Since somehow my invitations to the Oscars and the post-award parties were misplaced in the mail my snarkiness levels as I watch this evening are climbing in direct proportion to every lame joke, fake smile and silicon body part being flashed. So with no further ado here are my Oscar musings:
As I shared last night, America's rehab clinics and psych wards were emptied so that our favorite, and not-so-favorite, celebs could make an appearance on the Red Carpet. The first escaped loony to make his mark was Gary Busey. Gary decided to maul poor Jennifer Garner while she and Laura Linney were being interviewed by the qu...I mean king of E! It appeared that Ryan was under the influence of heaven-knows-what or is a complete blathering idiot...or both. Jennifer was much too polite (though clearly had the pee scared out of her by Busey) The Aging Disco Diva would have applied a swift kick to the little shriveled buseys the minute Gary tried to place those nasty lips of his anywhere close to my fabulousness. What was pretty funny is that you know Jennifer was thinking "Who the F' is this creep?" She honestly had no idea who he was.... and Gary was thinking "Man, she is so hot for me right now!" Gary hon, I hate to break this to you, but anyone under the age of 35 has no friggin' clue who the hell you are. Heck those of us over the age of 40 barely recognize you.
Anyway...while I am thinking of it---Hey Ryan, great job of protecting Jennifer from the creep...oh, wait a minute, that's right you didn't, you useless dweeb. And wasn't it classy of him to ask Jessica Alba about her breastfeeding plans?
Why, why, why do they feel the need to have each song performed? Sigh. Well, at least it allows the Diva to run upstairs, take a quick potty break, wash her hands, check her reflection in the mirror (OMG, time to touch up the roots again...) refill her champagne glass, grab some more Godiva chocolates and get back downstairs in time to hear the end of the song and to realize "Damn, that song really sucked"
I am puzzled about some of the presenters who were selected....Jessica Alba? Katherine Heigl? The Rock? Gee... three names we will never expect to hear announced after the phrase "And the Oscar goes to..." Razzies, maybe---Oscar? Don't bet the farm.
I was glad to see that someone told Miley Cyrus that less is more and that you do not have to wear enough makeup to prepare thirteen ladies of the evening for a long night's work when you leave home. She actually looked somewhat like a teenager, rather than a twenty four year old hooker who was ridden hard and put away wet.
I am convinced that there was enough Botox used by the audience to immobilize a fair sized third world nation. Their eyes might be smiling but everything else is frozen in place.
How many celebrities are going to slip on that damn spot on the stage before someone does something? The latest is John Travolta. Is it my imagination or does he look like Eddy Munster gone to seed? And oh yeah...what the freak does he have on his head? It is truly ghastly. Evidently Scientology does not believe in realistic toupees. For some odd reason the phrase "Simonize it" (If you are under the age of 50 you won't get the obscure reference) keeps popping into my brain with each Trovolta close-up.
Well, is over for another year. It was a bit of a snoozer; turns out the Busey assault was the most exciting thing to happen all night.
