As I type this, my belly is swollen with Star Pizza and my dearest pal Tamarie is eating raw cookie dough…yeah, it’s that night. The Oscars. The Super Bowl for girls. The freaking show hasn’t even started yet, and we’ve already eaten too much.
So here we go with the running commentary…starting…NOW.
Why the hell is Regis working the red carpet? Did Army Archer die?
John Travolta…neck is huge. Is he on steroids now? Wonder what the Scientologists would have to say about that.
Hi. I’m George Clooney’s girlfriend. I was a waitress and on Fear Factor. Now I’m at the Oscars. Like, ohmigawd!!!
Hannah Montana…give her five years and it’s Britney 2: Electric Boogaloo. I’m a TERRIBLE person for thinking that.
Jason Bateman…come to my house with no pants on…thank you.
Nothing against the deaf, but what’s Marlee Matlin doing there? When was the last time she made a film? Who’s her date, Tim Matheson?
Why do all the women have their hair styled so lazy like? What’s up with the wispy updos? It’s a tousled, someone-just-had-his-way-with-me-against-the-fridge-and-now-I-put-my-hair-up. Weird.
What the Hell is on the front of the dress that Daniel Day Lewis’s wife is wearing? It looks like it belongs on a Christmas dress. And Daniel, what’s up with the pirate earrings?
Cameron Diaz…Memo to Cameron: There’s only one woman who could pull off the dumb blonde, and that was and is Goldie Hawn. Seriously, girl. How much longer do you think this act is going to work?
Hello, Tilda Swinton from the planet Androgynous. Dress designed by Hefty Trash Bag.
Ellen Page, soooo cute. I love her. LOVE HER. Remember when the hot young female star was Julia Roberts? Ellen is just way better.
Oh, it’s Hilary “I’m just a girl from a trailer park” Swank. Wonder if Chad’s watching from a pay-by-the-week motel in L.A. somewhere.
I’ll say this for Regis. Nice suit.
What’s up with the bizarre video game/clip show beginning? Bring on Jon Stewart. Please. Oh…damn good joke about the Vanity Fair Oscars party and no writers ever getting invited. Love it.
Dang, Julie Christie looks good. Ruby Dee looks better than me and she’s 80something.
Jon Stewart is killing me with the Jew joke, the Hillary Clinton joke, the Norbit joke. Who was Billy Crystal?
I bet you 20 bucks Dennis Hopper is tripping on some serious windowpane acid.
Best Costume Design…don’t care. I thought they usually started with Best Supporting Actor. However, you can always count on the costume designer winner to wear some crazy yet awesome outfit, and Alexandra Byrne is no exception. LOVE it. Short nice speech, too.
I’m crying at the clip show with Charlie Chaplin and the fucking Celine Dion song. Oh my god, it’s not even the Celebrity Death Reel, and Tamarie and I are crying.
Anne Hathaway, come to my house with no pants on.
It’s only 8 p.m. and I’m already drunk on raw cookie dough.
Erg…I do love Amy Adams, but I’m so not into the Best Original Song performances unless it’s “Blame Canada” from South Park.
The Rock is presenting at the Oscars. This is a criminal act. A CRIMINAL ACT.
Okay, I’m beyond my word limit for this entry, and I’m hopped up on TaB and Star Pizza. Got to turn off computer now. Ladies and gentlemen, I will report back on Wednesday with my stupid and meaningless opinion on the major winners.
Love and Kisses,
PS Should they or should they not change the Ken nub on the Oscar doll into an actual penis? My vote is yes.
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