A few people have asked me if I am going to the You-Know-Whats. (N00bs: that's how we refer to a certain awards show around here. Otherwise I get a tic. That whole brouhaha was amazing, but it also scared the crap out of Your Fragile Narrator.)
I won't be at the actual show-- they don't do the "returning winner" schtick with writers-- so no
legendary presenter swag bag for DC.
Quel horreur! I needed a mink oven mitt.
I might go to the big party on Sunday, though. You know I'm gonna crash a few group photos like "LOOK, KATE WINSLET AND I ARE FRIENDS! I'M RELEVANT! LOOK AT ME!" Or I'm in the background doing high kicks like Kathie Lee on a Carnival cruise. I actually have a hilarious picture of me and Shirley MacLaine where you can tell I just sort of mashed myself into the frame.
Last year, my friends and I discovered that if you're physically clutching an Osc_r, you (and all your dirtbag pals) can get into any party that night. So we were like, "Next year, let's bring it out again and see if it works." How tragically hilarious would that be?
Ma'am, may I check the year on that statuette? 2008? I'm sorry this is expired. Suck a few dicks and come back next year.(KID-DING)
I'm definitely watching the show, though. As an Academy member*, I'm not sure I'm allowed to say who I'm rooting for, but I certainly have my darlings. Too bad Katy Perry's not performing on this telecast. I can just see them lowering her onto the stage in a giant papier mache Cecil B. DeMille head.
*This phrase-- casually dropped with annoying frequency-- has become my personal version of
"As a retired model..."