Archive | February, 2011

A rose by any other name wouldn’t smell like Franco.

28 Feb

I just got home from the hospital (third time in two weeks – does that earn me a free visit next time?) because my left calf did its whole “swell to the size of your thigh” trick again as I left work. (More on that later – both the crazy ass people I met at the hospital and the diagnosis. In a nutshell: I’m fine but my veins are lazy.)

Anyway, because I was eager to put the hospital behind me quickly, one of the first things I did was check my blog traffic. And in addition to the regular hits, do you know what? I’ve had four search engine hits direct people to my blog because my pre-Oscar post referred to the hosts as Anne Hathaway and James DeFranco. Apparently, the name is James Franco. And yet, not one, but FOUR individual jackasses looked for James DeFranco.

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Kind of a stream of consciousness – but actually my tweets.

28 Feb

Last night I tuned in *briefly* to the Oscar’s red carpet arrivals via a live stream on line. Not that you care, but here is what I tweeted as a result.

Leo DiCaprio’s date is HUGE. Who’s the linebacker?

Oh wait – turns out it’s not Leo. That’s the director of Inception.

That makes more sense. You don’t go from Giselle to Girth.

I wonder if the director of Inception cast Leo because he looks like him?

Helena Bonham Carter looks like she hates this stuff. Why do introverts become actors? Don’t they realize this is part of it?

Gwyneth weighs approximately one pound. I could break her.

Has Donald Trump ever married a woman with a normal name? Melania? Sounds like a country.

Natalie Portman looks great. I love purple. Where is the dude who knocked her up? He should be walking the carpet with her.

Halle. Berry. Is. The. Most. Beautiful. Woman. Ever. FLAWLESS.

I understand that Jennifer Hudson lost massive amounts of weight. But I’d like to high-five the surgeon who gave her those breasts. That was a feat.

Jacki Weaver – I don’t know who you are, but if there’s a biopic of Katie Couric and someone needs to play the fatter, older version of her – it’s YOU!

Cate Blanchett – your dress looks like it’s missing something. Were you hoping for sponsorship?

Sharon Stone: you’ve had some work done, but I think it was paid under the table. Woof.

Christian Bale’s beard looks like something people should clean golf cleats on.

This morning I watched the highlights of the Oscars and it turns out Anne Hathaway and James Franco were as horrible as I predicted.

One tip for the producers? They might want to call this guy, to host next year. Sure, he probably couldn’t work off a script, but on the up-side, they wouldn’t have to pay Bruce Valance, and they’d be sure to get more that polite titters from the audience. Because everyone likes a train wreck.

In honor of the Oscars, I shall profess my ignorance of pop culture.

27 Feb

Tonight walking home from yoga I passed a dozen bars and restaurants that had chalkboards out front touting their Oscar parties. Part of me got a bit of Oscar envy, thinking it would be fun to be hosting an Oscar party in a couple hours.

Then I realized: I have absolutely no vested interest in the Oscars. I’ve only seen one – count it, ONE! – of the ten films nominated for Best Picture. And that was only because Alan and I motivated YESTERDAY (that’s exactly one day before the Oscars) to walk to Georgetown and watch The King’s Speech.

Aside from that, since I don’t own a television, I haven’t even seen trailers for the other films – unless I actively sought them out on Fandango over the course of the year. When the opening credits of The King’s Speech started rolling, I was shocked to see a microphone on screen – without any prior knowledge of the film, I had been assuming it was set back in the days of Henry VIII.

Um. Perhaps there’s something (albeit something small) to be said for television.

Interestingly, there was a whole crowd of Oscar “crammers” at the theatre on Saturday. Apparently Lowe’s offers a $50 Oscar ticket for people who want to do a marathon and watch ALL of the nominees in one fell swoop before the awards. I became antsy just looking at them, knowing they had resigned themselves to sit in a theatre for multiple hours. That might be my personal idea of hell.

Well, that plus some screaming infants, a line of people walking slowly down the sidewalk side-by-side, a menu serving only white creamy foods (like cream cheese, sour cream, mayonnaise and yoghurt), a Celine Dion album on repeat and a gaggle of women who refer to themselves as “mommy” when addressing other adults. That’s pretty much my idea of hell.

Speaking of hell… whose idea was it to have Anne Hathaway and James Franco host? The last time I checked, neither of them was a comedian, and that seems like about the ONLY prerequisite for hosting. Maybe I’ll hustle up a live stream so I can watch them bomb. Or… maybe that’s the real blessing of not owning a TV. I don’t have to.

Wait Wait! I’m going to tell you…

27 Feb

Full disclosure: I’m an NPR junkie. My idea of a perfect weekend involves bottomless chai, my recliner and a steady flow of NPR programming. One of my favorite programs is Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me.

If you’re not familiar with WWDTM, it’s an hour-long quiz show hosted by Peter Sagal and Carl Kasell, featuring three comedian panelists answering questions about current events. I recognize that this format might just qualify its fan base as ranking in the 99th percentile of nerdiness. So what.

Each week Peter Sagal notes that the show is recorded live in front of a studio audience from the Chase Auditorium in downtown Chicago. At some point in the last six months, this prompted a light to go off in my little nerd brain: DID HE SAY CHICAGO?

Hell, I’m out there twice a month for work. Why haven’t I made a pilgrimage to the seat of my personal religion?

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I suppose this justifies kids owning cell phones.

24 Feb

When I was in second grade, a McDonald’s opened in my small, five-stoplight midwestern town. It was a pretty big deal, so pretty much the entire town’s population – including my mom, my seventh grade sister and me – turned up for the grand opening.

Middle school is not the time when you want your little sister clinging around, so Alicia did her best to ditch me and hang with her friends as soon as we entered the restaurant. My mom had other plans, however, so after securing our tray of food, she seated us at a table next to where my sister sat with her friends.

Alicia tried to ignore me. I tried to pretend I was part of her table. My mom tried to mediate, making us each a bit more accommodating of the other.

And then I went to the bathroom.

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