Before we get to the good, the bad, the ugly that was the Academy Awards, I just have to say something: y’all have been really lazy lately. I mean, I keep showing up to this blog and nothing much is happening. It’s the same posts…and the same posts…and the same posts…day after day after day after day. What’s up? Why isn’t anyone adding anything new?
Wait. Are new posts up to me?
(Hangs head in shame) Starting now, I’ll try to do better.
Starting now, that is, assuming my dang kids will quit getting the dang flu. We’re currently on round two. Did you guys know you can get the flu twice in two weeks? I didn’t. It might have been nice if my doctor had given me a heads-up, so that I could
escape with my boyfriend Fabio to Europe make sure I had all the right medications to make my children more comfortable. Oh well. High fevers and stomach aches it is. But if I get it again…let’s just say it won’t be pretty. Let’s just say I have Fabio on speed dial. And if he doesn’t answer because of being a germ freak or something, there’s always his brother Sven.
(Shhh…don’t tell my husband)
What did you guys think about the Oscars? Did you watch? I did, and I came away with a few observations so profound they may actually solve world peace if our government leaders would give them half a chance.
Here’s one: if the camera really adds ten pounds to a person’s appearance, some of these actresses have the super-sexy figures of eleven-year-old boys. And I just got creeped-out from typing that sentence. But seriously, does anyone in Hollywood believe in eating a hamburger? Or a milkshake? Or more than a single French fry? Because I have some recommendations if they need a place to dine. Of course, the drive to my part of the country could be a drawback, but it’s just a minor inconvenience. Besides, they have access to airplanes, I think. So I’m begging anyone who can help, please give these women something to eat. Sit on them and force it down if you have to.
Among the less emaciated crowd, there were a few stand-outs. Jennifer Lawrence, I’m talking to you. Did y’all see her dress? She looked EXACTLY like I imagined myself all those years ago when I used to play dress-up and pretend I was Cinderella. Her dress was gorgeous. Her hair was gorgeous. Her delivery was a little bland, but she looked super-nervous. Considering no one knew who she was just nine months ago, I guess I can’t blame her. And that fall at the end only made me like her more, because I fall a lot, too. More often at the grocery store than the Oscars, but there’s really no difference.
Adele. The lady can sing. The lady can write a great song. The lady looked beautiful. The lady just had a baby. Let me be the first to cry foul.
Twitter and Facebook were pretty evenly divided, but I have to fall on the side of thinking Seth McFarlane did a pretty decent job. He’s no Billy Crystal, but by some outrageous oversight or just a lack of being interested, Mr. Crystal wasn’t there. So, whatever. But there was a good opening number, so that definitely scored points with me. Plus, the guy can sing. So that scored a few more. But then he made an off-color joke about Adele’s weight, and then lost a few. So the lady likes a hamburger? I think she and I could be best friends. More likely, I could be her mother, but let’s not get too picky.
I did not like the Jaws theme they used to usher people offstage. It was rude. Obnoxious. More than a little intimidating. And after these stars spent all that money on outfits and all that time getting ready and all that effort giving a performance worthy enough of winning, the message “In ten seconds we’re going to eat you if you don’t get off stage,” might not be what they intended.
I wanted Bradley Cooper to win, but Daniel Day Lewis was fine. And hey, who knew he was funny??
I did not see Argo, but from the looks of all the producers—including Ben Affleck and George Clooney—it was nice to see that very shaggy beards are back in fashion. I guess we can thank Duck Dynasty for that. Maybe they should get an award, too. Or not.
Well, gotta run. Another kid is sick. They’re dropping like flies around here, and someone’s got to take care of them. And since neither Fabio or Sven will return my calls, I guess that someone is me.
P.S. We’re supposed to get snow tonight. Like, real snow. None of this phantom stuff our dumb weather people keep telling us about and getting wrong. So if you’re the dancing sort, put on your shoes and join me. We’re shooting for a foot of the white stuff, people, so don’t stop until we get it!!!