Although I hate to admit it, I watched the Oscars this year. And like everyone else, I thought they were awful and could not tear myself away from the television. I needed to see every awful minute. I don't care what anyone says, including JLo, she did have a wardrobe malfunction. There was definitely the shadow of a nip that was not properly tucked. I'm not sure why she was a presenter. No one else knows either, except my husband, who at first tried to say she had had some kind of bona fide career in the movies - to which I replied "Monster in Law!" - and then, realizing the folly of that statement, he retreated, mumbling something about how it had been determined that she appeals to a certain demographic. Ah! That's more like it.
I don't know when the Oscars became a runway show, with some of the models even affecting little runway poses. It didn't used to be that way. Then I left America for more than two decades, and when I came back the Oscars were all messed up. All I know is that this is not my fault. (As an aside, Davey Jones died today, and I can hear in the distance yet another Monkees song on the radio. Enough already!) The worst Oscar moment this year, and there were many to choose from, was probably Angelina and the Aggressive Leg Shot. I think everyone agrees on this point. What was she thinking? Angelina, what were you thinking? You looked really, really stupid, even though you are gorgeous, etc. Maybe you wanted to prove that you are, after all, a mere mortal? There has to be a better way.
And while I'm on the subject of movies and the Oscars, can someone explain why Steven Spielberg's War Horse was among the films nominated for Best Picture? Is the Academy afraid of pissing him off or something? And though I think Martin Scorcese has made some great films, Hugo is not among them and it was quite annoying to hear everyone thanking the great Marty S profusely, as if they were afraid not to. You'll never work in this town again kind of thing. Just as an aside, has Martin always had those Groucho Marx eyebrows? Scary.
The real purpose of this post is to say that I've been reading so much lately I haven't had time to do much else. Latest read: L'amour et des poussières by Clémence Boulouque. Feelings: Mixed. Maybe I'll elaborate another time, if only to figure out why this book bothered me before my book club meets to talk about it.
Me in my Oscar attire,at the after party (and if you can read what is written on my t-shirt, then you do not need to feel concerned by those words for a few more years at least):
