Tag Archives: Fame

My Movie Briefs – Take #2

My Movie Briefs – Take #2

Yes, I am so late to the table on this second round of Tiny Movie Reviews (check out the first round here) that I should be too ashamed to even post this. I should feel shame that I have been working at a “real job” instead of going to movies. Or, I’ve been raising “real children” instead of writing about fake ones.

Whatever! I’ve never been very good at shame so…..

The Wolf of Wall Street – I’m trying to come up with a word to fully describe the complete depravity I witnessed in this movie. And, I’m only trying to describe Jonah Hill’s teeth. Don’t get me started on the dwarf-throwing or “anal candling” (a term I have just now coined….I think).

August Osage County – Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it. You are all Thespians who emote loudly. We are duly impressed.

Inside Llewyn Davis – I think this is just a super long commercial for Zoloft, right? Common side effects of Inside Llewyn Davis may include headache, nausea, diarrhea, dry mouth and increased sweating. Sexual side effects, such as problems with orgasm and ejaculatory delay often do not diminish.

What? Now you’re going to mess with my orgasm?

What? Now you’re going to mess with my orgasm?

Saving Mr. Banks – Sorry Mr. Disney, but even if he is a desperate drunk spitting up blood, I would still totally do Colin Farrell. And, actually, Emma Thompson too. She’s divine.

Her – It’s like when my grandpa goes all apoplectic because his computer box gadget won’t spit the thing out with the mouse do-hicky.  God damned technology!! It’ll be the death of us!!

Dag-blasted son-of-a-bitch! Why I oughtta…

Dag-blasted son-of-a-bitch! Why I oughta…

Weird computer on human sex action that is a sweeping commentary on the loneliness and isolation of the human condition. We get it. Oh, and Joaquin Phoenix – Creeps. Me. Out. Bad. And so do his high-waisted pants.

Rush – Thor can really be a douch sometimes.

American Hustle – I’ve been sitting here for the past three decades waiting for the resurgence of the Jerry Curl. David O. Russell, you complete me.

Philomena – Nuns are mean.

So there you are. A wrap up of the higher-profile movies of the awards season. Now it’s time to settle into the mindless drivel of entertainment that happens this time of year when there are no more awards to be won or careers to be made.

After slavery, AIDs and outer space, I could use a few car chases!

 

2013: An Awkward Death

2013: An Awkward Death

I am, admittedly, slow on the uptake for writing about 2013. After all, 2013 was so last month!

I’m going to blame it on my blinding anticipation of the new season of Downton Abbey. Damned Brits.

So, what can I say about 2013? It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was a year of weirdness, it was a year of boredom, it was a time of unsightly rashes and a time of emotional outbursts.

Does it seem to anyone other than me that 2013 has had the longest death scene ever? Haven’t we been trying to wrap this year up since about June?

The long, awkward death rattle of 2013

turkish2

So, here are a few of the oddities, in a vast sea of weirdness, from the year that made me tilt my head and say “Whaaaa???”

Zygote Infamy

Imagine having a lifetime supply of fame before you even develop limbs. Then imagine eventually being born to some of these parents.

  • We have yet more Kardashian blood on our hands now with the arrival of North West, who will most likely be bi-polar before hitting kindergarten.
  • His Royal Highness Prince George Alexander Louis of Cambridge selfishly took all the focus off of the final season of Breaking Bad by being born.
  • This created…something:

Wiz Khalifa, Amber Rose

  • But, to balance that, so did this:

Kristen Bell, Dax Shepard

  • Brad and Angelina did NOT have (or go get) any more children this year.

Dennis Rodman’s Love Affair

Celebrity couples are just like us!

Dennis Rodman, Kim Jung Il

They show their love in public.

They laugh together!

They laugh together!

They have serious discussions about stuff!

They have serious discussions about stuff!

They clap!!

They clap!!

Same Sex Marriage

A tip o’ the hat to California, Connecticut, Delaware, Hawaii, Illinois, Iowa, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Minnesota, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, Rhode Island, Utah, Vermont, Washington and the District of Columbia.

These states legalized same-sex marriage, thereby ensuring they will all be better pressed, accessorized and smell of lavender.

And, a wag of the finger at the rest of you states. You can all continue to wallow in the stench of backward thinking and fear while living in your trailers that lack tasteful yet vibrant throw pillows. No pop of color for you!

Paula Deen

Paula Deen loses endorsements due to stupid racist remarks = $12.5 Million

The sustained consumption of salt, butter and bacon causes obesity and diabetes = $450 Billion

A Spike Lee/Jaime Oliver/Paula Deen Fight Club session = Priceless

Paula Deen

Spike Lee

Jamie Oliver

God’s Bouncer

Mario Jorge Bergoglio, (ex-bouncer, chemist and janitor) dares to be the bad boy James Dean of Vatican City with his crazy ideas of relieving poverty rather than focusing on old news like homosexuality, premarital sex and abortion. What are you, some kinda Christian?

This kid's the pope!

This kid’s the pope!

Don’t get me wrong – My membership card expired many years ago. I mean, I am a thinking human with ovaries who birthed two males of alter boy age, all of which are cause for concern in the Catholic Club.

This Guy

Shut your pie hole. Really.

Duck Dynasty, Phil Robertson

So, in closing, I bid 2013 a tardy adieu and good riddance. Don’t let the door hit you in that freaky ass on the way out.

 

My Movie Briefs – Take #1

My Movie Briefs – Take #1

That’s right, I hand wash my unmentionables.

It’s the holiday season again! Time to get out the big box of decorations, bake treats, dig out my clapboard and director’s chair and listen with a child-like sense of magic as the nominations start to roll in.

That’s right, it’s the start of award season and I, for one, need to change my pants because I AM SO DAMNED EXCITED.

Knowing how busy we all are preparing for that “other” holiday, I figured I’d do a mini-review of the movies that look to be award contenders during this, the holiest time of the year.

Sort of a Reader’s Digest version without the old people cartoons about prostate cancer and hearing loss.

So I present a niblet, a trace, a whisper, and a whiff of my opinion on some of the movies I’ve seen thus far, thereby reducing the essence of the gigantic human effort of creating an enduring piece of cinematic art to one or two snarky lines.

Here are my Movie Briefs. (Not to be confused with my actual lucky movie underwear I’m wearing right now.)

Nebraska – This is nothing short of a renaissance for pissy, stoic geriatric Midwesterners. It’s finally your time in the spotlight! And Will Forte, you adorable bastard, call me.

I’m freezing and it’s too damned loud in here.

Blue Is The Warmest Color – Finally, I can now go out in public to watch my foreign lesbian pornography under the guise of French art house noir! If real porn were one-tenth this good, well, I’d probably have to quit my job.

Dallas Buyers Club – Heroine-chic is so 90’s and so OVER. If you are not sporting retro HIV-chic then I simply cannot be seen with you.

12 Years A Slave – Terrific, fantastic, impactful movie that states what we all grudgingly know deep down inside – white people are just very bad.

Captain Phillips – Tom Hanks acts out exactly how I responded to the news I was having twins with his amazing portrayal of PTSD. Nailed it.

I don't accept this! Re-do the ultrasound now!

I don’t accept this! Re-do the ultrasound now!

Blue Jasmine – Mental illness has never been so exceptionally well dressed. I wanna get me some of that!

Gravity – Sandra Bullock is one badass chick, floating through space all perfectly toned yet “sciencey” at the same time. Only thing that would have made it better is if they threw Melissa McCarthy out there with her. Now that is a buddy movie I can get my arms around.

Enough Said – So adorable, heart-warming and moving that I am suddenly drawn to overweight, balding yet soulful middle-aged men. That’s right, I’m looking at you, Dennis Franz. Call me.

That’s it for now. Stay tuned for round #2 when I’ll give you the 411 on depressed folk singers, dysfunctional families, techno-erotica, corporate greed and Walt Disney. Deck those halls!

The Future – Where You Still Have To Plug In Your Laptop

The Future – Where You Still Have To Plug In Your Laptop

SPOILER BLOG!!! Turn away now if you are one of those people who have to experience shit for yourself instead of heeding the warnings of others. Close this down and jump off that bridge, fool. 

I have emerged from the deep, finally, after not posting for several weeks. Life gets in the way often, but NOTHING gets in the way of my annoyance with bad movies so here ya go.

It’s been a while, thankfully I suppose, since I’ve seen a really terrible movie. Not that many of the flicks I’ve sat through will win any awards, but every now and then there is such a stinker that I just have to get my rant on.

I had high hopes for Elysium.

First of all, it had Matt Damon who, up until now, seems to make good choices in his career. He also is just doggone cute and, frankly, hilarious.

God, you are so right. Just look at me…I’m goddamned adorable!

God, you are so right. Just look at me…I’m goddamned adorable!

Secondly, the director is that South African dude who did District 9 which is, in my humble opinion, a freaking awesome sci-fi movie.

So, I will admit that I may have had unrealistic expectations from the start. However, even if I were DOING Matt Damon, I’d slap him upside that adorable noggin.

In a nutshell I’ll give you the rundown to save you the trouble.

  • Poor people are noble, rich people are assholes. WE GET IT!
  • Evidently, even though everyone has a tanning bed-like machines in their homes that can cure everything from Leukemia to a blown off face in a matter of seconds, in the future we will still have to plug our laptops into walls for a network connection. Evidently, wireless didn’t end up working so well. Who knew?
  • You can literally change the political and social direction of an entire planet by typing the word “Legal” in some code. Duly noted.
  • Jodi Foster is not only “not” saying she’s gay, she’s also “not” saying she has completely given up on acting. And, given up on her dialect coach, evidently, because she had the weirdest futuristic French accent ever. If that’s how people talk in 2154, thank god I’ll be long dead because I’d stab them all in the eye.

    Do you see my intense stare and severe haircut. I’m ACTING, people!!

    Do you see my intense stare and severe haircut? I’m ACTING, people!!

  • Diego Luna, a BRILLIANT Mexican actor was totally wasted, being relegated to a street urchin looking like a cross between Tonto and Pippi Longstocking.
image

It makes no sense to us either, Diego.

  • Sharlto Copley, who was awesome in District 9, has also gone to waste. His character is so one-dimensionally evil that by comparison you’d think Hannibal Lector ran a soup kitchen.
Would you like your chowder in a bread bowl?

Would you like your chowder in a bread bowl?

So, to summarize. The future looks stupid and even Matt Damon’s awesome abs can’t save us.

The End.

Personal Space Invaders

Personal Space Invaders

At one time or another we have all come across one. Some of you may even be one. What I speak of is the Close Talker, the all-too-frequent person who just loves to get all up in your space.

It seems like, and this may just be me and my pile of neurosis, but the universally agreed-upon personal space boundary of 18 inches to 4 feet seems to be in jeopardy. I’d love to think it’s simply my exceptional magnetism that is causing people to stick to me like flies on shit, but I believe it may be a wider spread problem.

It seems to crop up all over the place. At work, social events, standing in lines. Who hasn’t had that  person behind you in line seeming to climb up on your back while waiting to buy their Hot Pockets and Tab?

No one will take your crappy food products, honey. Back off and relax. Do NOT make me mark my territory….because I will. In fact, it’s one of the few times when I sort of wish I had a penis, as marking off that distance would be much more effective with that tool at my disposal.

We are not in China, people! We have wide open prairies here.

We are not in China, people! We have wide open prairies here.

Then, there are those who get up in your junk because they are simply liquored up. These people live in the “negative-space” world where they actually seem to try to crawl inside of you.

Now, I understand situational space limitations when one needs a drink at a crowded bar. I’m not an animal, people. I have feelings.

Barkeep! Another Gin Fizz for the little lady!!

But, if you are pushing your way in for, let’s say, your 10th drink, I no longer have the empathy I would have had for your 1st or 2nd.

I had an experience just recently with this exact situation. While standing at the bar of a groovy new hotspot I started to feel a strange pressure against my back that slowly turned into a full-body press. When I turned around to see who my assailant was, I realized it was a famous person who I will refer to as “Sam” because that is his name.

This fine establishment was obviously not his first stop of the night as he was doing that squinty-eyed swaying sort of thing that indicates either an astigmatism and vertigo or being tanked. Me thinks it was the latter.

So, instead of swaying and toppling over, why not just lean up against someone and hope they don’t make any sudden moves. Find a human lamp post, as it were. And if said lamp post is a woman, and I am a drunk dude, all the better.

I was a human lamp post to the stars. A very proud moment for me. Though not so much for him as he was soon escorted out of the place.

So, the moral of  the story is simply this:

Back the hell off!!!!

I will leave you all with this educational film. Watch it and learn. And, by God, stand your ground!

 

A Bunch Of Words About Aging

A Bunch Of Words About Aging

I am 35 years old.

Oh, shut up! I know I’m not 35 – let me explain!!

I seem to have frozen in time at that age. I have not advanced one second past that age. I would say I will die at the age of 35 even though most people will argue that I will be more like 95 (and a HUGE pain in everyone’s ass).

I felt my best at that age and decided I’d hang out there indefinitely. At 35, I was in good physical shape, blazing trails in a successful career, had disposable income and was under the misguided impression that I was in control of my destiny.

I was not too young, nor was I considered old. I was in my sweet spot.

But, my body clearly did not get that memo.

So, this being the case, I feel I’ve become somewhat bi-polar with my insides and my outsides not matching up. I have a good angel/bad angel on each shoulder giving me opposing views.

Sitting on one shoulder sits the woman who will stop at nothing to remain young and beautiful. Let’s call her Carrot Top.

I know!!! I totally look like a woman!!

I know!!! I totally look like a woman!!

On my other sloping  shoulder sits the gnarled and bent figure of the aged and self-possessed woman. We will call her Kathy Bates.

Yep, I’m naked and I’m OK with that, goddamnit.

Yep, I’m naked and I’m OK with that, goddamnit! Get over it!

It doesn’t help that I live in the land of happy, shiny, perky breasts. The buying public, and no matter what my Visa statement says, it does NOT include me, has set the standard for what beauty is all about. The buying public is named Stassi, Shauna, Brandeeeee or some other made-up name.

Do I, like, have something in my teeth?

Do I, like, have something in my teeth?

So, back to Carrot Top and Kathy. Let’s start with Carrot. He sits there with his plump lips, surprising eyebrows and permanent eyeliner. He is telling me that all I need to do is a lift here (to help those falling butt cheeks),  a tuck there (to shore up the jowls that make me look a little more like Nixon every year), a tweeze (because what is it that makes you turn into the Fly after 35?), and a few good shots of some unnatural material to plump you up in just the right spots.

All this for the special package cost of your soul.

But there is Kathy sitting there, a little stooped and a bit androgynous in her look. She wears no makeup or adornments because, well, what the hell’s the point?

She whispers into my ear in a raspy voice “We’ve worked at this beauty thing for decades. We’ve bought every lip plumper, push up bra, gut-sucking underwear, and spent the national debt on anti-aging everything like good little soldier.

Aren’t you just weary of all that work and wasted energy? You could have written several novels, found a cure for the common cold AND found Bin Laden way earlier with the time and brainpower put toward “beauty”….which is a subjective word, by the way.”

(We will pause here while Shauna looks up the word “subjective.”)

So I ask, is there a happy middle ground? Aren’t we supposed to learn moderation as we get older (along with where interest rates are and how our 401K is performing)? Can we learn to love ourselves enough to allow our bodies to age gracefully, as intended?

I see you getting all indignant, shaking your fist at the sky and bellowing “But it’s not us, its MEN who make us this way! It’s MEN who expect perfection!” This may well be at least part of the problem. I don’t know of any men who hang posters of Madeleine Albright in their rooms because she has a really big brain.

And, yes, most men would take a killer rack over a sagging one any day of the week. Who wouldn’t?

I know we’d like to think of ourselves as highly evolved creatures, but the bottom line is, we’ve been doing this little dance since we crawled out of the primordial slime. The vision of a healthy, big-breasted cave woman with childbearing hips sent all the knuckle draggers into a frenzy…just like today.

Oh, our foreheads have come in a bit (except for James VanDerBeek), we’ve discovered bathing (except for Joaquin Phoenix), and now we can talk (often, this is NOT a good thing), but those pesky little DNA strands are still calling the shots.

Don’t you give me the stink-eye young man, you get in that shower NOW!

Don’t you give me the stink-eye young man, you get in that shower NOW!

Women still want to look attractive to men and men still want them to look attractive.

So, do we go against our very nature? Do we thumb out nose at our chemical make up? Why are you asking me? I have no freakin’ idea!

But, it would be nice to think that our intellect would have exceeded this need by now. It does seem like we should know better and would be able to hold other deeper traits in higher regard.

So, it may seem obvious that the Kathy Bates has won the fight. She has triumphed over shallowness and has driven her point down our turkey-like throats. We will be happy with who we are. We will find healthy, graceful, and proud examples to follow. We will love ourselves, cellulite and all.

And, only the evolved, forward-thinking men will be allowed in our sacred presence.

Only the men who, themselves have reached that inner peace. You know, the ones with the “love handles” because somehow that makes fat cute. The ones with arms that jiggle like your grandmother’s…

Gotta go now, Carrot Top is driving me to my Liposuction appointment.

Ode To A Naked Gold Man

Ode To A Naked Gold Man

 

The big event arrives on Sunday

our hearts are all aflame

Daniel, Sally, Helen, Ben

MacFarlane, don’t be lame

 

The glitz and glamour of red carpet style

The men all handsome and lean

With yards and yards of wardrobe tape

Nary a nip will be seen

 

Who will be the big winner this night?

Could it be Zero Dark Thirty?

Or maybe Silver Linings will win

Bradley Cooper makes me feel dirty

 

Lincoln, Django, Life of Pi

All wonderful movies, surely

But with runtimes over 2 hours long

Our bladders were starting to get surly

 

Bradley, Daniel and Joaquin

Denzel and Jackman, Hugh

Thespians every one of them

But which one would you screw? (you know you’ve thought about it….)

 

Who will be the lucky presenter

For Beasts of the Southern Wild

To say the name Quvenzhane Wallis

Big name for such a small child

 

Chastain, Lawrence, Riva, Watts

Each one is the one to beat

Their acting chops are unsurpassed

Honey, please get something to eat

 

Adele will sweep the Best Song prize

And I for one could hug her

I only hope she drinks lot’s o’ plonk

So I can ‘ear ‘er say bollocks and bugger

 

So prepare your snarky comments, all

Let’s judge and rip and tear

Which awkward speech will get played off

Who will trip on a stair

 

You may all wonder why it is

Oscar makes me weak in the knees

The simple, honest, truth is this

I  f**king love movies!

Valentine’s Day – SPOILER ALERT From A Grumpy Non-Romantic

Valentine’s Day – SPOILER ALERT From A Grumpy Non-Romantic

I am not a Valentine’s Day type of gal. It’s never mattered what my relationship status has been. I just have never gotten into it.

I see it like I see New Year’s Eve – it’s amateur night.

But, in honor of St. Valentine (who most people think was made up by Geoffrey Chaucer who I love so maybe it all makes sense after all) I will throw a giant bucket of cold water on the event everyone is hoping will happen tonight.

Yep, I’m all sour grapes. Turn back now.

With the constant deluge of “leaked” celebrity sex tapes, I think we may all be under the misguided idea that we are looking pretty hot and sexy ourselves during “the sex.”

I hate to burst any bubbles, but most of the time these celebrities are fully aware they are being taped so they are adjusting their responses accordingly, able to look seductive and well-coiffed even at the peak of the experience.

They are THESPIANS after all, with many having completed the all-important Porn Method Acting 101 class.

The rest of us, however, look like we either stubbed our toe or ate a lemon when we reach the top of the mountain. But we don’t know it and we don’t particularly care because NO ONE IS LOOKING.

It’s in our DNA to close our eyes because otherwise the human race would cease to exist. It’s hard to get that picture out of one’s head once it’s there.

Let’s face it, real people sex, while lot’s of fun, can be kind of ugly to look at since, despite what may be happening in your head at the time, we are not professionals.

Exhibit A:

What we think we look like.

What we think we look like.

 

The terrible reality.

The terrible reality.

So, Godspeed, my romantic darlings. Buy those giant hearts full of chocolate and the red roses, wear that super tight dress to dinner and, for the sake of humankind, keep those eyes closed!

[Creative disclaimer: In reality, I am a hopeless romantic. Hell, Love Actually is my favorite movie! But hopeful and happy is just not as funny as bitter and grumpy.] 

Fact: Zombies Don’t Floss

Fact: Zombies Don’t Floss

Some of you may have gathered by now that I have a tendency to get a little obsessive about some odd little thing. Ya think?

So, in keeping with that, I’d like to take just a moment to discuss our nations disturbing tolerance, nay acceptance, of bad oral hygiene.

Let’s start with two of my favorite movies this year – Django Unchained  and Les Miserables. Is there an award for best dental makeup? If so, it would be a dead heat.

I think the attention to detail is fantastic but the quantity of sheer gore in Django did nothing to turn my stomach like Leonardo Dicaprio’s mouth.

Though, I do posit this question: How could his teeth be so nasty while his skin is still so….luminous?

Why did I still find him repugnantly attractive?

Why did I still find him repugnantly attractive?

It was a similar experience with visiting early 1800’s France. There wasn’t a pearly white in that country, evidently.

Not only could I feel the winds of revolutionary change, I could smell the thick fog of halitosis wash over me along with the national pride.

Thank God John Waters didn’t take this one on and add Smell-O-Rama to the experience.

I think tooth decay is the new terminal disease with actors and a sure-fire road to an Oscar nod.

You have Alzheimer’s, Cancer, Irritable Bowel Syndrome? You acting hack! Smear some green gunk on your teeth and look odiferous and you are a THESPIAN!

So, now on to the smaller screen and some actual, real people who clearly do not have a dental staff.

**Disclaimer: I have seen a combined 90 seconds of all the hillbilly TV shows that are on right now. So, yes, I am making a leap of judgment. But, I feel OK with that. I can be judgey, don’t judge me for that.

Not sure there is much to say, really, with titles like Hillbilly Handfishin’ (one must always remember to drop the “g” to be authentic), Duck Dynasty (I actually thought this was some sort of homage to Daffy Duck but I was very wrong), and Swamp People (obvious),  I think we can safely surmise that Hillbilly Dentist is not doing a gangbuster business.

Which brings me to my idea for an awesome new show called….you guessed it….Hillbilly Dentist, where a Doctor’s Without Borders type group of dentists travel the Bayou in search of the most disgusting maw.

Look Mama, I’m on the television box!

Look Mama, I’m on the television box!

I think our tolerance for watching icky things has run amuck. I can watch people do unspeakable things that are usually reserved for the privacy of ones home (or are deemed illegal by the health department in many states) and not blink an eye.

I make one exception for Zombies. It is a fact that they do not floss so I give them a pass on the whole dental thing.

Brains! Sonicare! Brains! This is so hard!!

Brains! Sonicare! Brains! This is so hard!!

None the less, I sit squarely in the shallowness of simply not liking to look at non-Zombie rotting bridgework.

And, remember kids, in the words of the prophet, Dr. Seuss:

“Don’t gobble junk like Billy Billings, they say his teeth have fifty fillings.”

The Golden Globes – My Lady Parts Are All Tingly

The Golden Globes – My Lady Parts Are All Tingly
Darcy St. Fudge and Damian Francisco of "Dog President"

Darcy St. Fudge and Damian Francisco of “Dog President”

I know there is a glut of Golden Globes commentary floating about the web-o-sphere. I also know that I couldn’t pass any opportunity to barf out my opinion if I tried.

I had a lady boner all night for Tina Fey and Amy Poehler.

(I will give credit where it is due right now – I got the term “lady boner” from the fabulous Jen at http://jeneralinsanity.com. I want it put on my gravestone when I die.)

I believe they are two of the funniest most talented women who ever walked on this crazy blue marble we call earth.

I am in awe of how many amazingly funny women we get to watch these days. Add in Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy, Zoe Deschanel, Leslie Mann, Rebel Wilson, Lucy Punch….I could go on and on, which makes me…well, get a lady boner all over again! Happy day!

Though, some observations did tend to kill my lady buzz, one of which was Mel Gibson. He appeared to either be highly medicated or just stricken. I believe he was paralyzed with fear being surrounded by a room full of Jews, women, African Americans, and any other group he has abused in the past.

Mel Gibson

There’s one behind me right now, isn’t there? Right…behind….me…..

Along with Mel, I’m going to give another thumbs down to Robert Downey Jr. As talented as he may be, he acts like such a giant self-obsessed tool that I can’t bear to watch him.

Which brings me to our friend Jodie Foster, who, in addition to choosing some odd friends, gave one of the most rambling WTF speeches since Mariah Carey at the Palm Springs Film Festival.

My two main thoughts around this are as follows:

Jodie, it is no longer 1985. You seem to think that any of us are sitting around our groovy condos wildly speculating about your personal life while drinking our micro-brews and wearing our hipster knitted caps. Unless we do it ironically, which is highly possible.

We knew you were gay when you were 10. So, either there is a parallel world were tabloids still care about this or maybe Ms. Foster is under the misguided impression that her sexual orientation is more interesting than Lindsay Lohan’s most recent arrest or the sex (and species) of the Kanye West/Kim Kardashian offspring.

BUT, my polar opposite second thought was that the piece about her mother was so beautifully delivered, so graceful and authentic, it made me cry.  Thanks for the emotional rollercosater J-Fost! Like I need more of those in my life.

Then there was Arnold and Sly. Wow. If someone made candles in the likeness of each of them, then burned it for 30 minutes or so, they would be the actual live them. I think their wicks were hidden under their toupees along with their little horns.

Then, just when I thought my buzz was forever rendered useless and sad, along came Will Farrell and Kristen Wiig. They did a take on Garth and Kat from SNL that was crazy funny! If the space-time continuum didn’t exist, I would want to be their love-child

I thought Sacha Baron Cohen’s sarcastic slam on Russell Crow in Le Miserable was pure brilliance: “Russell Crowe had three months of voice training. Money well-spent!”

If I could just….remove this sword from my thigh…I will plunge it into the chest of my agent.

If I could just….remove this sword from my thigh…I will plunge it into the chest of my agent.

And, as much as I want Danel Day-Lewis to be some sort of a freaky asshole, he just isn’t. He’s an eloquent and humble bastard, damn it!

Though, he has to be a challenge to live with what with all the Method acting. Imagine asking Lincoln to take the garbage out or have Bill the Butcher from Gangs of New York mow the lawn.

Is that a gopher hole I see? I will defeat my enemies! Vengeance shall be mine you son of a whore!

Is that a gopher hole I see? I will defeat my enemies! Vengeance shall be mine you son of a whore!

I’m just saying that Mrs. Day-Lewis is a hell of a trooper.

There were many more noteworthy tidbits from the night but I don’t think any of us need me to ramble on and on. We had enough of that on Sunday.

(Though, Leah Michelle needs a spray-tan intervention, Lena Dunham needs to throw a couple of Dr. Scholls inserts into her shoes, Jennifer Lawrence was a little bit of a shit about Meryl but I love her anyway, and Anne Hathaway, can we all just agree to not say “blerg” anymore?)

Suffice it to say that I’m more than ready for the Oscars.

Seth McFarlane, do us all a solid and slip Ben Affleck in for Best Director, will ya? It’s the stand-up thing to do.