Anything, everything, whatever comes out of my brain on a given day.
Monday, March 27, 2006
The Gauntlet II II
- I heart Randy. WTF is he doing with Kina???
- Speaking of whom -- if you press the mute button while she and Cara are fighting, not only will you not need prescription painkillers to get rid of the headache, but you can really imagine that they are fighting over who stole whose orange paint. I mean, "sunless tanner."
- I've always liked Robin, for some reason.
- And ya know, I tried to like Beth? I am relatively new to this horrifying trainwreck otherwise known as Bunim/Murray Productions, so I didn't have reason to hate Beth based on the past. And the "cool" people on this show are such an utterly loathsome bunch that I really wanted to root for the underdog. But she's just so un-self aware! Katie, I don't love her at all, especially 'cause she's so Thai from "Clueless," you know, the uncool one who claws her way into the popular group and somehow becomes more hateful for it, well to me, that's kind of Katie, but anyway, back in her day, she was at least scrappy, you know, when push came to shove, she did okay, but Beth was just like "Uhhhhhhh...whatever...." In summation: Shut up, Beth.
- Not that Aneesa doesn't need to shut up, too.
- So wait, why is Robin with freaking Mar(k?c?)? He's a douche. If I didn't already know this, it would be made evident by his wearing sunglasses.
- Awww, Dumb Cara had "crazy feelings" for whom?
- Wait! Does Randy like dudes?
- Or is he just so stoned that he doesn't realize about Kina?
- 'Cause there is no way that's not a drag queen up there.
- Brad is...shut up, Brad's crooked hat.
- Robin is so pretty. And her dress rules. She should get Randy, and Kina should get stuck with Mar(k?c?).
- Is Kina from Plainview?
- Is the host a porn star? No, but really, why is it that MTV can hire -- well, okay, their male hosts are basically morons, but at least they are sometimes funny and get to be famous. The chicks they get to host these pageants of dumbassery just get vapider by the second. Like, MTV, there are plenty of hot women out there! Do they all have to be sharing the same brain cell to be on your network? You used to have cool girl hosts! Remember Martha Quinn???
- Okay, I was holding my tongue for awhile, but. Panic! At the Disco -- are they really annoying, or like, what is their deal?
- Wow, MTV. Way to totally ruin the tiny bit of potential charm the "quit" schtick by TJ could have had.
- Oh, I'm sorry. Kina was giving a shoutout to Ireland! Orange skin! White teeth! Green eyelids!
- It's over? O...kay... Thanks for another stellar season, MTV! I hope to see all these beautiful people again SOON!
Ha ha -- so I'm watching "The Gauntlet" (I know), and it's Derrick up in the gauntlet as captain, and it is AWESOME because...
...it's between Timmy and David to go against him, and David is all prancing around with his abs like he just bought his brand new ab suit like Travis Barker wore in that movie or commercial or whatever he did when he wasn't doing his Boost Mobile stint and exactly WHY is he still considered a musician, is it just 'cause of the mohawk? But so David's all, "Yo yo I wax my chest and look at this six pack...
...and meanwhile Timmy's all cool, just like, "dude, just let me go into the gauntlet, since I don't need the money so much, seeing as I almost qualify for AARP"...
...and Derrick is breaking furniture...
...and Katie is CRYING ...
...and TJ walks in and is like, "Erm...how am I supposed to not laugh at this?"...
...and Mark (Marc?), who is apparently too studly to go to the gauntlet, starts pitching the whiniest hissy fit in the world about how Dave and Timmy just need to be men...
...and I REALLY REALLY hate myself for watching this dreck, but at the same time actually feel extremely bad for Derrick, 'cause he may be crazy like an under five from "Full Metal Jacket," but he really did work his ass off, winning multiple gauntlets and also dealing with Blockhead Brad, only to lose at the very end. That sucks.
Okay seriously, I would really like to know why half the apartments I've lived in have been haunted?
First in Oneonta, my apartment was haunted by a boy. The first night I spent there with The Ex, we noticed: a wistful calendar in the kitchen that was made by a child, left inexplicably on March 2002 (it was August 2003 at this point); and creepy pictures hanging around this empty bedroom. The room had no closet, and it locked from the outside. This was all very unsettling, and we made nervous jokes about our apartment being haunted by the spirit of a dead boy, whom we decided to name "Timmy."
We continued with the gallows humor, because what else is one to do when one keeps finding evidence of no former life in the apartment except for unhappy child memorabilia? Things got creepier when we discovered a watergun on top of the refrigerator. But the real capper came the next morning. We'd gone to sleep in a completely empty room, besides the "artwork" on the walls. However. HOWEVER. When we woke up, there on the floor at eye level, was a single black crayon. No joke, it was NOT there the night before, it was just not. Never before had a crayon appeared so ominous.
In the end, Timmy did not bother us, although who knows if he was possibly responsible for the nonworking refrigerator and oven, or for the flood, or for the fact that our garbage was not picked up for two whole months? Wait, that was probably not so much Timmy as the "landlord."
So anyway, once I left the hellhole also known as Oneonta, New York, I thought my days of haunted apartments were over. Until Monday night. First, my cats have been doing that uber-creepy thing, where they just stare at seemingly nothing, and it's really really unsettling, because like, WHAT are you looking at, cats? They will both stare in the exact same spot, looking completely bugged out. Never a good sign.
THEN...my fish went missing. Sunday night, I cooked up some tilapia, but due to my sudden lack of appetite lately -- good because I lost seven pounds, bad because I have circles under my eyes darker than Timmy's crayon -- I couldn't finish it. So I put it in a bowl in my refrigerator.
Monday night I decided that perhaps coffee was not quite *enough* as far as calories for the day go, and decided to reheat the leftover fish. I opened my refrigerator. Everything else was just as I'd left it. I have a cross between crazy old lady frig, due to the dry cat food and medicine from my cold 2 months ago that I never bothered finishing, and bachelor frig, as the rest of the space is taken up by beer and condiments. So that was all still there, but the fish was gone.
No. No? What? As anyone who's ever had the pleasure of chilling with me at a bar, or work, or life in general can tell you, I have this tendency to lose everything I own at various points of the day and night. And I'm not the world's most fastidiously organized person, so when I can't find something, I just assume that I need to check again. My mother always tells me, "You look like a man," and since I'm pretty sure I don't have a single feature that's even remotely masculine, she can only be referring to the fact that I tend to "look" for things by opening a cabinet, deciding that no, there's no string beans, and carrying on with my day.
So I just assumed that was it, and I reopened my refrigerator, prepared to look like a woman.
Still no fish.
WTF!
Then I wandered around my apartment, thinking that a) I am a scatterbrain, and was probably just pulling a Mrs. Schaefer and had accidentally put the fish in like, my dresser, b) maybe the lack of food for three days was making me hallucinate, or c) I'd in fact, already eaten the fish but didn't remember.
Nothing.
Thinking that maybe I just needed sleep and possibly something to eat, I had a piece of bread and went to bed before the "Gaslight" experience was complete. As I slept, my subconscious overcompensated for the lack of fish by having me dream about huge humpback whales all night. Whales scare me. I think if I don't die in a plane crash, I'm going to get killed by a whale. And yes, I know that whales are not fish, but it's close enough.
I think that AOL is jealous. I've been on it since '97, but in the past year, it's become rather unnecessary for my life needs. During the day, I use my work Outlook, because the little white envelopes provide me with immediate gratification. For business emails, I use my Yahoo! address since I'm guessing that my full name comes off as more professional than my AOL name, which is a tribute to Thea Vidale, the sassy comedienne who starred for an all-too-brief moment on her own show about a hairdresser with a heart of gold who'd been working hard -- two jobs every day. And of course, I use Myspace email most of all.
So in order to win back my affections, AOL has put in a valiant effort to provide me with all sorts of imperative products and services! And it's eerie how well my trusty AOL knows the real me. Here are just 10 of 500 thoughtful emails I have received in the past few days:
1. "Free makeover -- look 10 years younger!" So the ladies at ShopRite can think that I am in 2nd, instead of 12th, grade. And so not only will I be, in the words of Andrew, "old enough to be (his) mother," but I will look young enough to look like my own...child? Or something like that.
2. "The 10 mistakes most women make with men." This is an ad for a book, although I'm really pretty sure I caught all the brilliant nuances just from the email itself. Apparently, I should shut up and have sex until the guy gets tired of me. Actually, let's just move on.
3. "Adopt your little bundle of joy." EXCELLENT! I've been meaning to obtain more random Russian children, and this looks like it could be my chance. I hope the baby likes 9 Lives, because that is the food that is in my apartment right now.
4. "Ephedra is back!" Love it. Like Jason, it keeps returning from the dead, 'cause I guess it hasn't taken enough lives just yet.
5. Okay, this is EXCELLENT. "Ashley Parker Angel at the Crazy Donkey!" No, really, does anyone want to go with me? I've been thoroughly enjoying his train wreck of a reality show, and now that it's ended, I need a fix, and also to see if his psycho girlfriend will be there. Seriously, why (WHY) do the mean, bitchy girls always hook the sweet guys? Granted, he is about as bright as the penny that was rejected by my customer the other day, but man, Tiffany is a piece of work. Like, who talks about her baby's daddy's morning wood with her mother?
6. "Rent a private island." Now that is good marketing, right there. "Know your audience," indeed. I will probably get to "renting my own private island" right after I finish "renting a movie from Blockbuster with change I find in my car."
7. "Black Singles Connection -- connect with someone today!" Well, sure. But my uber-whiteness aside, I'm not sure anyone's going to want a 10-year-old mother who feeds her Russian baby cat food and also probably makes 10 mistakes with men.
8. From Youstaycoolonthego: "Portable air conditioners!" I -- what? How! Are these like those little fans that were so exciting to get from the gas station when I was nine?
9. "Victoria's Secret Clearance Sale." Translation: "We have one extra small fuchsia slip top that's unraveling as we speak, that you can pair with the 36C yellowing white bra that no one wants, and wear it out with the humongous floral patterned muumuu sweaters that we inexplicably sell."
10. "Savings on Similac/Enfamil." This way my Russian baby won't have to eat 9 Lives, so that's good. I think I shall name my baby "Chorus," and it will be an homage to Ashley Parker Angel's baby, Lyric, and I will bring Chorus to the Crazy Donkey, where we will meet, and together form not only a family but also a complete song.
So I read on craigslist that someone in Tribeca is looking for a "poet's assistant." And basically, I don't even want to begin to understand what that means.
It's a tough thing, "poets." On the one hand, I absolutely, 100 percent, love good poetry. I am friends with many a talented writer. One of my all-time favorite classes in college was on Hopkins, Yeats, and Eliot. I truly and deeply long to collaborate with a musician and record a bunch of Dorothy Parker poems as songs. And song lyrics in general are extremely important to me.
So okay, though, now that we've gotten that disclaimer out of the way: people who call themselves "poets?" Well, it's hard not to hate them.
Besides all the obvious reasons, I think this probably stems from all the memories of angst-filled nights spent in coffeehouses. I went to a lot of Bible studies, and therefore spent an inordinate amount of time in diners and coffeehouses. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I mean, if I haven't already made it abundantly clear, coffee is my One Great Love. And I'm totally down with that whole used bookstore/shabby living room feel. Secondhand couches, old paperbacks, the awesome smell of must and caffeine. That's good stuff.
But that isn't why I went. No, coffeehouse life was way more socially political than that. I got the initial invitation through insiders, but if you plan to become a fixture at MIBs (RIP), or Witches Brew, or The Cup, or wherever -- I'm not counting Classy Coffee though, that place stresses me out -- then you better have one or more of the following: a) brown hair down to your ass that has never seen a shampoo bottle, b) five visible piercings or else a septum ring, c) artistic talent of some kind, or d) angst.
Obviously, I lacked a, b, and c, so I needed to really make sure my angst was operating full throttle on a weekly basis as I spent all freaking night long at the coffeehouse every Tuesday for...shudder...open mic night. Open mic night. REGULARLY. No wonder I suffer from anxiety attacks. It's post-traumatic stress from years of THAT.
So but you know how that all worked. If you've never done the coffeehouse thing, maybe you have done the all-ages show thing, and it's pretty much the same, only with more sitting and fewer studded belts. But there would be that one guy. You knew he was sensitive, because how could you sing/play/paint/whatever like that and not be Someone Who Really Feels? So even though he was cute and popular and everyone was in love with him, obviously he would choose you, because you were concentrating all of your energy into d), 'cause you were soulful. As was he! It was just a matter of him talking to you for longer than five seconds so he could see it!
The problem was, that Soulful Guy? Really didn't have that much going on upstairs. Therein lay the problem. He wasn't really deep, just kind of showy and vapid. So what seemed like a dark mystery to which only you held the key was actually a doofus with a guitar. And when he laughed at and listened to the comedic stylings of your Ashleys and Mikaylas as they alternated between witty and deep about how like Alice in Chains was like so meaningful and also their cousin's friend was named Alice, so they knew it was like, a connection, he wasn't being nice, he was being...himself.
But in the meantime. In the meantime. There was much in the way of sifting and enduring in the form of tortured dudes in bajas. The ones who actually were sensitive, but just...NOT FUNNY to the nth degree, and it was seriously just like...what do you do? Because he'd come over and sit there and once the topic of where you went to school and oh, did you know so and so had been exhausted, all that was left was for him to say, "Would you like to read my poems?" And then you'd sit there and awkwardly read from his spiral notebook with all pictures of like, eyes and dragons all over it, and his poem would usually involve you know, knives, or his childhood swingset or something. Then you'd be all, "it's good!" and instead of saying "thank you" or something, he would nod all soulfully, like almost complimenting you for being deep enough to appreciate his genius. And what was UP with that? And these are totally the guys who fast forward to the present are all bitter that no one has sex with them, but like, maybe that's why, dude, ya know, like if a girl you like is paying attention to you, pull yourself out of your navel long enough to buy her a cup of coffee or something!
So yeah, I know the same thing basically goes on at bars nowadays. But the bar is easier in my opinion because a) Faux Soulful Guy will show his true colors much sooner after he gets drunk off of his Scotch and starts making out with some chick named Heather, thus saving you a lot of time and energy, b) Open mic nights at bars usually have a lot of hot musicians who may not be any better, but will be more funny and at least no one will be ironically snapping their fingers because they learned about that in that upper room of the Hofstra arts building, c) Many bars don't have open mic nights at all, but rather jukeboxes, where you may have to hear a lot of Dave Matthews, but at least you can play your own stuff and also weed out the douchebags by how self-seriously they "Uh uh uh!" to "Sweet Caroline," and d) The poets have usually gotten a lot better over the years, and if they haven't, you can always start singing "Fading Shadows," a mortifyingly awful song you wrote very sincerely in eighth grade. This will usually scare them away, or at least inspire them enough to buy you a beer.
- Why does every show seem to do that episode where its all, "Hey, it's your birthday? WHO KNEW!" I mean, Ryan's been living with the Cohens for what, two years now? Why is everyone surprised that it's his birthday? And I realize the 18th birthday is a big deal, but maybe you "O.C." folks could not rip off an entire "That '70s Show" episode, only instead of stealing a street sign, Sandy steals Ryan's alcoholic mother from jail.
- I really hope you guys get your act together and keep Ryan and Marissa apart, because it was like you took Pinocchio Ryan and breathed life into him and turned him into a Real Live Boy last night. He's much hotter as slightly confused, trying to overcome his life's bad hand Ryan than as Marissa-whipped, beleaguered Ryan. Ben McKenzie can be a great actor, but he definitely does much better when he has chemistry with people. He and Sadie seem to have some. He and Marissa do NOT. If that's where you were going with all "The Model Home" flashbacks -- that they had something lost that is now gone, or burned to the ground, if you will, then nice job. If it was to make us all yearn for Their Great Love, then...not so much.
- I love Julie Cooper, and am charmed by her social ineptitude, but PLEASE don't have her throw herself at Dr. Neal's feet. It's great to have someone to share your Hot Pockets with, but not at the expense of your spine.
- Although Foreigner is so not better than Journey, that whole thing was worth it for Ryan's adorable reaction to Seth's excitement.
- It was great that Summer finally got to do something besides abuse Seth and worry about Marissa. Loyalty is one of Summer's sweetest qualities, and seeing her look out for her dad was very nice. Rachel Bilson is very good in her role. Please stop wasting her...
- ...And speaking of wasted actors, not only did her hair look lovely, but Kelly Rowan got to speak tonight -- thanks! They really should have a required class in school: "Be a Man, Not a Douchebag: Gentle Smackdowns by Kirsten." Although maybe with a less porny-sounding course title.
- When we last saw Marissa, she was with alcohol and a bad boy. Good job. Those two things have made her semi-interesting in the past. Throw in some Tijuana Vicodin and/or another purple-haired girlfriend, and I might actually get invested in her character again.
- The end of the episode left me with hope, because you were focusing on what "The O.C." does best -- interaction among the core characters that involves continuity and genuine emotion. The great thing about old-school "O.C." was the irony that in such a seemingly homogeneous community, a group of people with widely different backgrounds and dysfunctions could come together and be stronger for their unlikely, familial relationships. So keep it up. And keep Ryan and Marissa apart -- this cannot be said enough.
So most of you know that I have no sense of direction. As in, it is absent from my being. It’s not a matter of paying attention; it’s not a matter of practice; it’s not a matter of doing fewer tequila shots at the bar. Well, sometimes it is.
But still. It’s like, just not a part of me. Even when I try valiantly to pay attention to where I have been, in order to gain a better understanding of where I need to go, it doesn’t work. After two or more turns, everything I’ve retained just -- * poof * -- gone. Wiped clean like “Memento” guy’s short-term memory.
People don’t understand this, or believe this. Either they think I’m too smart in general, or that NO ONE could be that stupid. Maybe both. But often times, the people who are affected by my directional dementia seem almost offended, like I’m trying to pull one over on them or something. And I understand this. I can remember the title of every “Buffy” episode and what Shannon wore to our 9th grade science fair, but I still get lost on the way to work sometimes.
No, I am not kidding.
Why my brain is this way, I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that I can literally get lost anywhere. And it’s tough, because there really isn’t great cultural awareness about a problem like mine. Maybe what I need to do is make an Afterschool Special about it so people will know. Actually, maybe I should do that anyway, because that would be awesome. PRODUCERS! Call me! Although there aren’t afterschool specials any more, which is total bullshit. Granted, there are Lifetime Movies, which, let us all bow our heads to the brilliance for a moment, but there’s a lot of sifting through earnest original television series and Susan Lucci movies to get to the good stuff about eating disorders and that actress who looks like if you crossed Natalie Portman with the chick who plays Taylor Townsend on “The O.C.” But more on that another time.
Anyway. So yeah, I’ve gotten lost a lot. I’ve thought I was in Malverne when I was in Cold Spring Harbor. I’ve been late to ShopRite because seriously, the entrance to the 135 from Jerusalem Avenue vanished. I had a serious relationship with a guy who lived in my town of 15 years and still couldn’t find my way to Sunrise Highway…which was around the block from him…sometimes. Okay, most times. But none of these instances prepared me for last night.
Okay, so as those of you who love me enough to read my bulletins know, I got an iPod, thanks to Greg. And I have no idea what I’m doing, but I did manage to get “Appetite for Destruction” and other assorted good songs for jogging in (on?) it. One of the main reasons I wanted an iPod was so that I’d start jogging again. I was REALLY not in the mood last night, but I forced myself, saying I could walk or jog, whatever, but I had to be out for 10 songs.
And what better way to make sure I did not come home early, but to use my God-given skills at getting hopelessly lost! Excellent. I set out on my journey, and quickly got into the experience. Sure, I had no idea what to do with the newfangled “iPod” contraption, but I did figure out that the right arrow button meant “skip.” The air was nice and chilly but not too cold, the streets were dark, and I had music. It was great.
But I still wanted to challenge myself, so anywhere I could make a turn, I did. I live in North-ish Merrick, where the streets are twisty and seriously, like I guess there is some town ordinance that states every street must have multiple counterparts, because there are like 12 Park Avenues, but that is not good enough, because there also has to be Park Place and Park Street and Park Boulevard, and unlike my other hood, Baldwin Harbor, there is no rhyme or reason to the street names, I mean at least in Baldwin there is the presidents section to save you before you get lost forever in the Harbor-Harbor down by the park and the Christmas house that’s like the 9 ¾ track from Harry Potter, in that it absolutely cannot be found by mere mortals.
What was my point? Oh yeah, just that Merrick doesn’t roll like that, because there will be the 75 different Parks, but then all of a sudden? Horatio Place. And so on and so forth. All of which is to say that I was getting good and lost. I’ve been half an hour late to work by car for way less than the way I was walking around last night.
About eight songs and forty minutes later of throwing caution to the wind and wandering the dark, twisty streets, knowing I was probably going to end up in East Meadow or something, I saw a light ahead. Oh, I wonder what street I’m coming up to, I thought. One thing was for sure – it was going to take me awhile to get home. I forged ahead, really digging this Modest Mouse song that I’d never heard before.
I got to the new block, and literally could not believe my eyes.
I was a block away from my house.
The street was Camp Avenue, which is right next to Park Avenue , my street.
I was literally stopped in my tracks, jaw agape. I could not believe this had happened. Like, is this the trick??? To TRY valiantly to get lost, and I’ll end up exactly where I need to be???
As I stood there, I really was having a slightly out-of-body experience. Often in my life, the line between the natural and the supernatural, and between the waking and dreaming, has been severely blurred. This was feeling like one of those times. I mean, I know I have no sense of direction, but this felt…bigger. And creepy.
But not as creepy as what came next.
As I stood there feeling like the butt of some cosmic joke, wanting to laugh, but feeling completely unnerved, the Modest Mouse song started wrapping up, and this is what I heard:
The universe is shaped exactly like the earth If you go straight long enough you’ll end up where you were
So now that I’ve reenacted “The Blair Witch Project” complete with ironic score and “Wizard of Oz” undertones, I can’t wait to see what happens on my next walkabout. But if you don’t hear from me for 24 hours, call the police and tell them I’m missing, and that they should look for me either really far away, or like, right next to my house.
(I started late, because it's not really fun without someone to watch it with.)
- Oh -- oh...nooooo, Nicole Kidman -- WTF??? Someone needs to stage an intervention or something. I know celebrities like to switch up the look, but...she started out as this vibrant woman, so beautiful and different with her red curly hair and freckles. So, she wants to mess around with the dye and that's cool, but...she's become like, absent of pigmentation! And also eyebrows! And I didn't notice any wrinkles before, but I guess she's absent of those too, because she looks rather *unable* to smile or make any expressions to speak of.
- Is it just me, or does Frances McDormand seem like she'd be really annoying in real life? Like, Frances, you're nominated for an Academy Award, and yes, the Oscars are basically just Hollywood masturbation, but you did show up. Don't be the female Sean Penn. I mean, don't wear makeup or take a shower if you feel like that compromises your integrity, but like, could you maybe not choose the EXACT moment after they play your clip to scratch your nose and basically roll your eyes? Thanks.
- Ohhhh, okay, no WONDER I was so confused when Keira Knightley was everywhere, and I was like, "she seems different now." That's because she was, in fact, Rachel Weisz this whole time! Until she became Keira Knightley apart from Rachel Weisz, and I forgot about Rachel until just this moment when she won an Academy Award.
- Damn, wow. That is some ker-razy cleavage, Rachel Weisz! I feel kind of bad for her. She looks like I felt the year I Ace bandaged my boobs to be (The New) Jan Brady.
- Michelle Williams looks just lovely and flabbergasted to be here. That's nice. I think I'd like the Oscars more if everyone looked a little more honored to be invited.
- That Best Actress spoof thing was surprisingly good!
- Okay, I don't mind if actors don't seem excited to be there if they all act like George Clooney, like they've got mad swagger-boy ADD going on . He's like, jumping around in his seat and looking all around and it's awesome.
- You know, I sent an email to Charlize Theron right after "Devil's Advocate" when no one knew who she was, and she didn't write back.
- Wow, how great would it be if EVERY Oscar winner brought a stuffed animal up on stage like the "March of the Penguins" dudes?
- Wait, what did Bodiless Oscar Voice just call Jennifer Lopez? "Entertaining and versatile"? Just because you showed that clip of her from "Selena" from before she was J. Lo doesn't mean she gets to be called those things.
- Although I think I found out who's been stealing all of the orange from Nicole Kidman.
- Well, many have referred to "Crash" as self-consciously artsy and overly self serious. Thank goodness this performance of "In the Deep" was neither.
- Is it wrong that every time there is an absentee speech given, it reminds me of 90210 and all the telegrams?
- Hee! Samuel Jackson knows how to WALK.
- Sid Dennis...huhhhhh...I feel like I'm at a work meeting now. Or, should I say, "holiday party."
- What? Did he just say "state-of-the-heart movies will always be around?" Shut up, Sid Dennis.
- Hello, Mickey Rooney! I wasn't sure if you were still alive. Nice to see that you are.
- Salma Hayek looks beauuuuuutiful. That dress is fantastic. It seems like the theme this year is "Act like you're classy," but she doesn't make it look like an act. Nice.
- Okay, there is the real Keira Knightley. I like her ever since I read an interview with her where she just came off as this total neurotic freak. Not that it got me to see any of her movies. Or kept me from thinking she was Rachel Weisz originally.
- So I've never heard of this "The Constant Gardener," but I'm going to venture a guess and say it's one of those movies where everyone in the movie is a minority, but the whole point of the movie is the one or two white actors who get to be important and save everyone and also get nominated for the awards.
- Which also reminds me of 90210.
- Why does Jessica Alba keep getting to do stuff?
- I think they made this whole dramatic clip montage just so Naomi Watts could feel less bad about being there when her ex and his baby momma are high focal points of the evening.
- Ha ha! Ha ha ha! A montage montage!
- They're never letting Jon Stewart host the Oscars again, are they.
- Jessica Alba's dress is like...it should be nice, and it looks like it was on the way to being so, but took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up looking like a bathingsuit with a really fancy sarong.
- Okay, I spent the afternoon watching horrible scripted "banter" in the form of MTV's "Parental Control." But like, THAT IS MTV. What is Lily Tomlin's, Meryl Streep's, and the freaking Academy's excuse???
- Oh my God they're still talking, and HEY! WRITERS! The word "peyote" is not in and of itself funny.
- I am so confused right now. Like seriously, I feel like I'm watching some entirely new show.
- HOLY CRAP! That was all for MORE CLIPS!!!
- I'm starting to remember why I haven't watched the Oscars in six years.
- It's weird seeing clips of Tim Robbins from before his eyes began the long day's journey into the middle of his head.
- Hahaha, "Honorary Oscar." That's like the prize in high school for "Best Attitude." Like, sorry you weren't smart or talented or athletic enough to actually win anything real, but hey, we feel mad guilty since you keep failing, so here ya go!
- Oh hey, M. Night Shamalayan's in an American Express commercial as himself! And it's just like his movies! Only instead of tedium for 2 hours with a "twist" at the end, it's just tedium for 30 seconds with no twist. Actually, I think I'd rather watch that commercial for two hours than ever sit through "The Village" again.
- "It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp." EXCELLENT. I really, really wish they would pan to the audience right now. I think the only two people who you'd see not looking confused right now are Sam Jackson and Kate Hudson. If she were there, I don't think she is. But she'd have that big, vapid smile on and not look grim in the way that you know Emma Thompson would. If she were here. I really haven't been paying attention to this crap in awhile.
- OMG! My girlfriend Queen Latifah is here! Yay!
- BTW, I'm not cheating on Lizzy Kaplan. It's figurative speech, ya know.
- Jon Stewart looks like you do when you have a boyfriend or girlfriend, but you basically know that they suck, and the two of you are hanging out with people who are really funny and cool, and then you have to leave to go be with your SO, and it's all disappointing. That's how pissed he seems that the audience isn't made up of the "Hard Out Here For A Pimp" people.
- You know, I've made up with Jennifer Garner since she broke Knoll's (TM Maggie) heart, but it's just so wrong that she gets to present at the Oscars while Keri Russell sinks further into obscurity.
- Aw. Pat Morita. Okay, I was going to complain about yet MORE clips, but this is always really sad, the dead people montage. Except for the part that many have pointed out, which is that it's really really awkward that it's kind of like a vote-by-applause popularity contest.
- But I'm still crying! I can't help it! But to be fair, it started with watching "Walk the Line" before.
- Wow, was that intentional, what they just did? Where they held the dim light over the audience for an extended moment after the tribute? Like as if to say "You're all gonna die, too"?!?! Because, seriously, how AWESOME would that be.
- Ew, I HATE when winners say "Don't start the music." Like the Oscars aren't long enough without your extended Last Will and Testament.
- Hilary Swank forgot to wear a necklace.
- OMG that is Busy Phillips sitting with Michelle Williams! What a turvy-topsy world, with a "Freaks and Geeks" alumnus at the Oscars as a guest of a "Dawson's Creek" alum. Well, Busy was on "Dawson's Creek," too. But you know what I mean.
- I'm honestly starting to believe that Judi Dench keeps taking the most random roles just to see if she keeps getting nominated for Academy Awards.
- I really want Reese to win, if for no other reason than to encourage her to keep making good movies.
- Yayyyyyy!!!!! Oh, and she looks so beautiful. I mean, SLIGHTLY like one of those dolls with the big skirts that disguise perfume bottles, but still.
- Awwwww, I love this speech! You know, I didn't see "Walk the Line" until today, but I'd read that June Carter's kids thought that Reese Witherspoon portrayed Carter as shrewish, but I didn't get that at all. I thought her performance was beautiful and subtle, and full of that inner struggle for truth and self respect, like Reese just said in her speech. So good for her for speaking so articulately about June Carter in what must be an incredibly emotional and nervewracking moment.
- Way to not pan to Felicity Huffman right after she loses Best Actress and Jon Stewart jokes about "Desperate Housewives."
- Wait, what, Dustin Hoffman?
- The chick who's accepting the "Brokeback Mountain" screenplay award totally seems like she accidentally wandered in from an Aaron Spelling nighttime drama.
- Okay, WHY is no one wearing a necklace tonight?
- Hee, I think now Laura Linney just makes movies where she gets to dye her hair drab colors and look wan.
- Sandra Bullock appears to be doing her best Paula Abdul impersonation tonight.
- Well, that was creepy. Matt Dillon just stared directly into the camera for like 20 minutes.
ETA that nothing else interesting happened, Ang Lee won, "Crash" won, yada yada, good night!
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