And The Oscar Goes To…
Despite not having seen, oh, ANY of the Best Picture nominees, I watched the Academy Awards last Sunday night. I never really make hard and fast plans to watch, but every year we usually end up recording it on the Tivo and then tuning in about an hour into the broadcast so we can fast-forward through the awards for sound mixing and the awkward “We-are-cutting-your-speech-off-with-flowy-violin-music” moments.
I can take or leave the red carpet stuff (it’s only really fun to read about it online the next day), and I’ve been known to fall asleep before the Best Actor/Best Actress presentations, but there is ONE part of the Oscars that I must see every year. One part that I get really touchy about if I feel they’ve done it “wrong.” One part that scratches some strange little itch in my psyche so well that I’m always a bit sad when it’s over. Which part is it?
Oh, how I LOVE the dead people montage, Internet. I don’t know why, and I don’t really care to find out. And I always get a little cringe-y when the crowd applauds for, say, Paul Newman (I mean, as they should), and then you hear complete silence whenever some random cinematographer comes up, BUT STILL. The dead people montage. LOVE.
Anyhoo, in the spirit of the Oscars, I present to you my own personal Academy Awards. Enjoy.
Best Recent Google Search Term: “male escort named luke phoenix”
(Runner up: “coffee fucking”)
Sweetest Moment of My Morning: Discovering a little love note from Brad on my steering wheel.
Creepiest Memory it Evoked: When one of the garage attendants at work left a note in my cupholder that said “Call me!” and was signed “Carl” (complete with phone number and smiley face).
Most Inappropriate Anger Ever Felt: When I discovered that Carl had been leaving such notes in ALL the women’s cars. Fucking Carl!
Best Bizarre Topic on Which to be Nagged by One’s Parents: “You need to get the baby’s portrait professionally taken.”
Worst Resulting Stubborn Behavior: My father refusing to display anything but a professional portrait on his desk at work; telling coworkers that he’s still “waiting on a picture” from me AS IF I have not taken roughly 30,467,269 photos of this child since DAY ONE.
Best Pushing of Jive Turkey’s Buttons: Ahem.
Best Weather: Pittsburgh, this week. Srsly. I want to take this weather back to my place and make it a man.
Best New Habit Acquired by Offspring: Making a silent-movie-star-style “shocked” face on command.
Worst New Habit Acquired by Offspring: Squirming like a damn greased pig during diaper changes, SO HELP ME if you get poop on this carpet.
Worst Combination, Like, Ever: Hormones + too much caffeine. Trust me on this one.
Best Combined Use of Overactive Imagination and Sub-par Math Skills: When I thought I might be pregnant (I’m not!) because I fucking COUNTED TO FOUR incorrectly.
Worst Overstepping of Boundaries, Immediate Family: A tie! Constantly expressing displeasure over our party plans for Sadie’s birthday, and asking when Sadie will be provided with siblings, OMG.
Best Excuse for Not Going to the Library on My Lunch Hour to Force Myself to Read More: I thought it would be gauche to tote my huge bag of wine in there (see above).
Most Disturbing Thing I’ve Ever Heard My Mother Say: The word “sexting.” In a sentence. Used correctly. Moments after she used the word “Kardashian.”
Have a good weekend, Internet!