I LOVE awards shows. I know! God forbid you have to watch those boring award shows that go on for hours. Most of you would rather have bamboo shoved up under your fingernails.
I guess it’s not a secret that I like movies. I’m not one of those Indie film buffs that scoffs at the Academy Awards. Far from it. I ADORE the Oscars. It’s a love affair that started when I was 8 years old. I watched the Academy honor Chariots of Fire with the best picture award instead of Raiders of the Lost Ark. English men running in slow motion to Vangelis is not as exciting to a 3rd grader as Indiana Jones running away from a giant paper mache ball. But anyway, it didn’t change my feelings for the Academy. I don’t hold a grudge.
Instead, ever since that night that dazzled me watching all those movie stars, I loyally perched myself on my couch for the 4 hour marathon each year, to see which cinematic legacy would be awarded. Unlike that first year I watched where Ark lost to Fire, I have agreed mostly with the Academy’s decisions. Hurt Locker vs. Avatar; The Kings Speech vs. Black Swan (thank God)…However, I didn’t like Unforgiven winning over Howard’s End. I have a love affair with Emma Thompson, okay? At least she won best actress that year. And The Departed beating The Queen or Little Miss Sunshine? Oh well. I realize Martin Scorsese is awesome, so I will let it go.
One day I will attend the Oscars. I always dreamed I would go as a nominee. Yeah, that ship has sailed. Unless they come up with an honorary nominee of lifetime achievement watching movies from a couch, I’m not qualified.
But I still put it out there in the universe that I will attend the Oscars. I will see movie greatness in person. By then studios will be greedy corrupt conglomerates and there will be like 20 best picture nominees. Oh wait… we’re almost to that point. What is up with 10 nominees for best picture?
Still, I probably won’t be wearing the Bob Mackie dress I envisioned myself in when I was 13. Yes, it had more fabric than Cher’s getup. Maybe Valentino, Zac Posen, Dolce & Gabbana. Oh wait- I don’t have the body for safety pins up the side D&G style.
Or maybe it will be from Nordstrom Rack like my Grammy dress. Either way, I will go and I will probably tinkle in my SPANX yet again.
Let’s hope I go before I’m 80. It would be so nice to be able to wear SPANX instead of Depends. Well, that could be sooner than 80…
This year, I will be wearing Lululemon Haute Couture and eating quinoa cakes with almond milk, while sipping oolong tea. Emma and I might go wild and have a Rice Dream frozen sandwich and some homemade popcorn sprinkled with nutritional yeast. It will be so much fun.
And in case you are wondering. I will never host an Oscar party. I can’t possibly enjoy my show while trying to see to everyone’s drinks and hors dourves and shushing everyone. That’s not fun.
Until I’m there at the Kodak Theater, or wherever they will be in 2030, I will watch comfortably on my couch.
If anyone knows any producers of the show, boom operators on the red carpet, spray tan facilitators for Ryan Seacrest, or towel holders in the ladies’ restroom- I’m happy to be hooked up. Hey- putting it out in the universe is the first step Oprah would say.
I will be blogging incessantly about the Oscars until Monday. Next will be about my love affair with Meryl Streep. My devotion to Helena Bonham Carter and how she’s nuttier than squirrel turds, but how I love her anyway. And also, how Glenn Close really deserves one of those gold statues sometime soon.
I love Billy Crystal, but I’m a Hugh Jackman fan, so I would really appreciate it if they brought him back. Leave Anne Hathaway to her movies though and James Franco to his writing and art. Thank you.