Belated Oscars Commentary

Now that it's a couple of days later, and everybody is completely over the Oscars, I think it's about time I weighed in with my thoughts. (In the form of a bulleted list, because that's always fun.)

- Ellen: Did pretty well as host, really, one of the more thankless jobs going. Think about it; tens of millions of people watching you, simultaneously expecting nonstop comedic brilliance and wishing you'd just shut up and get on with the show so they can go to bed, playing to a room of people who aren't going to laugh unless they can see a more famous person laughing so they know it's okay. So I'm not going to be too harsh on her comedy.

- I am, however, going to be harsh on her clothes. I knew she was going to be wearing a tux, and I'm fine with that. I could even have handled the fact that it was maroon velvet, if it had actually fit her. But nothing is going to get me to forgive the white patent leather loafers. (How many Salvation Army stores did she have to hit to find those?) Just because you're a comedienne is no excuse to go dressing like a used-car salesman attending a Lion's Club dinner, circa 1978.

- But I really should be thanking her for providing the necessary outlet for snarkiness, because otherwise the event was suffering from and unfortunate outbreak of taste and elegance in the clothing department, leaving poor Jennifer Hudson to face the collective wrath of the 5,864,233 fashion commentators present. And, yeah, the odd little shrug and disproportionate spagetti straps were unfortunate, but let's face it, it was no swan dress.

- Did you know they actually gave out awards at this thing? For movies! I hadn't seen any of them, because I have very bad taste.

- But I do have to comment on what was the greatest travesty of the evening, and possibly the decade: Happy Feet beating out Cars for best animated feature. I believe I have made my feeling on the former abundantly clear, but feel free to bring up the topic with me some time and I'll go ahead and rant some more to you.

- Based on the performances at the show, I would say that Best Song was a dissappointment too. I'm generally much more of a fan of Melissa Etheridge than Beyonce, but I have to say that any of the Dreamgirls songs (with a slight edge to "Listen", for being the most contemporary and least show-tuney) would have been better than whatever was the name of the one Ms. Etheridge won with. Seriously, the only thing I remember about her performance is that at one point the screen behind her flashed the word "recycle."

- I wonder what the CA Redemption Value of an Oscar is.

- About the running time. The show's producers are always blaming the winners for making it run long by taking too long with their thank-yous. That may have been true in the past, but if they try to use that excuse this year I'll be right here to tell you they're full of it. Because even if you cut every acceptance speech out of that program, it still would have run long by approximately, by my estimate, two montages and an honorary award. And anyway, shouldn't they be ready for long speeches? It's kind of like leaving yourself only fifteen minutes to get into the city on a Saturday afternoon and then blaming the fact that you're half an hour late on traffic on the Eastshore. I mean, what did you expect?

Getting all MSTie-eyed

Of all of my geeky traits, from the creation of science-themed artwork to the knowledge of pi to five decimal places, nothing identifies me so definitely as the nerd I am as my love for Mystery Science Theater 3000. Do you can imagine my delight when, during my search for Oscars-related videos, I came across this special (here in parts one, two, and three. Enjoy; I know I did.

Sparkly Old Ladies on Parade

In honor of Sunday's Academy Awards, a classy number from a past show:

Lunchtime Tourism

Today I went out to lunch with a couple of my coworkers, to a place nearby that specializes in Hong Kong-style food. Melanie, who is from Hong Kong, chose it, which seemed like a pretty good guaranteer of authenticity, though I was a bit surprised by the garlic bread and minestrone soup they served as starters (apparently, Asianized versions of Western food are as popular there as Westernized versions of Asian food are here). But the lunch options were authenitic to the point where I didn't recognize most of them, so I decided it was time to be adventuresome. After all, I watch No Reservations, don't I? And I want to be like Tony, fearlessly travelling the world and discovering fabulous meals in the most unlikely places, right? So what better way to start than by sampling the exotic foods right in my own backyard? (Actually, in the strip mall down the street from the office park, but same diff.) So I survey the menu, and choose, semi-randomly, "e-mein in XO sauce", which my dining companions explained was noodles. What can go wrong with noodles?
And indeed, my order came and it was tasty. For about forty-five seconds. Then the chili sauce caught up to me and it became painfully obvious that there was no way that I, with my weak white-girl taste buds, was ever going to be able to eat this dish. So Melanie flagged down the waitress and, after some discussion (in Cantonese), she (the waitress) offered me a replacement entree. Which was awfully nice of her, seeing as how it was hardly the restaurant's fault that I didn't know what I was ordering. (I got the distinct impression that I was being treated as the clueless tourist; not that I'm complaining.) So I just admitted defeat and ate my chicken chow fun. With a fork, because at this point, who was I kidding?

Being Cranky is No Excuse

This week's Very Important Lesson:
My sense of humor does not always translate well.

JCB Song

And now, quite possibly the sweetest song ever written about a piece of heavy earthmoving equipment.



Don't you just want to hug it?

A situation in which I would be required to do a situp to save my life

(Int. dungeon. I am lying on a plank over a pool of hungry piranhas with my hands tied across my chest and a giant razor-sharp blade hanging over me.)
Sinister, Shadowy Figure: Unless you can reach the cord hanging over you and grab it with your teeth in the next three minutes, this blade will fall on you and you will die!
Me: Curses!
Shadowy, Sinister Figure: Bwahaha! Now, I'd love to stay and watch, but I have a mah jongg game that starts at three. Tootles!
Me: (trying to sit up) Ehn!
Me: (trying some more) Urk.
Me: (flopping around, trying to build up some momentum) huphuphup- urg!
Me: Come on stomach muscles, do your stuff!
(My stomach muscles do what stuff they can, raising my shoulders a full four inches off the ground.)
Giant, Razor-Sharp Blade: Shthunk.
(I die.)


See? That's what I'm talking about.

Appropriate Motivation

As some of you may have noticed, it has been raining lately (this is assuming, of course, that all of my readers live in the Bay Area, because they do). And one problem with rain is that it makes my preferred method of exercise, jogging, less pleasant than usual. So I've been forced to come up with another type of physical activity, eventually settling on push-ups (the girly kind, from th knees) and crunches (depressing discovery: I could not do a real, full-on situp if my life depended on it. Fortunately, this seems unlikely). Which is all well and good, and I'm sure it would be nice to have stomach muscles, but they aren't a lot of fun. So I've had to come up with some way to motivate myself:


It's all about finding out what works for you.

Muffins!

Muffins.



(thanks to Mary for this one)

A post that was just supposed to be a joke about American Idol, but got out of hand

Place: A secret laboratory, behind a strip mall somewhere in the Deep South.
Two scientists are huddled over a dimly-lit tank, from which choppy strains of "Unbreak My Heart" can be faintly heard.

Scientist 1: It's almost ready! Soon we will be able to put the final stage of our plan into action.
Scientist 2: I'm telling you, you're being too hasty. And since when do we have a plan?
Scientist 1: Of course we have a plan! You know that we are creating our army of blonde southern naifs to advance as American Idol contestants before turning into our brutal agents of destruction.
Scientist 2: Oh, that plan.
Scientist 1: They'll never create enough antivenin in time!
Scientist 2: Yes, yes, but why the hurry?
Scientist 1: Our lease on this place is up next month. Damn landlord wants to put a Hardee's in here.
Scientist 2: Gotcha. Well, I guess we'd better fire her up then. Phil!
(A RESEARCH ASSOCIATE, who has been doing all of the actual work, appears from under a piece of equipment.)
Research Associate: Are you talking to me? Because Phil left last month.
Scientist 1: Whatever. Get moving, we're going live!
(Switches are thrown, cranks whir, machinery springs to life. Variously colored liquids move through tubes over the tank. Somewhere in the distance a coffee machine turns on. A thin, blonde figure stumbles out of the tank and looks around for a camera.)
Scientist 1: Yes! KMI005 is a go!
KMI005: *giggle* Who, little ol' me? *giggle*
Scientist 1: She's adorable! No one will be able to resist.
KMI005: *giggle* Y'all want me to sing sumthin? Ah've always dre-uhmed of bein' a singuh. *giggle*
Scientist 2: I don't know, don't you think you've set the accent a little strong?
RA: Yeah, we're almost out of the starting material, so we had to crank up the Southern charm to compensate.
KMI005:(warbling) Give meh one moment in tahm...
Scientist 2: Starting material? You mean the DNA from that water bottle we stole from Faith Hill's dressing room?
Scientist 1: Right. We used most of it on KMI001; we've been running on fumes ever since. We filled out the gaps for 005 here with a combination of frogs and Hooters waitresses.
KMI005: Ah keep on fahling in 'n out of love wit y'all... *giggle*
Scientist 1: (to RA) How's the backstory coming?
RA: I think I've got it. You see, she's an orphan, because her dad was a trucker, and one day he came back from a long haul and his friend told him that his dog had run off and his wife was cheating on him with another man, so he went to see the guy and found him dead, so he shot his gun off to get the attention of a patrol car, and they arrested him and hanged him almost immediately, even though it was really his sister who killed the guy, plus the wife, for reasons that remain unclear. What do you think?
Scientist 2: Isn't that the plot of the song "The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia"?
RA: Yeah, but I added the part about the dog.
KMI005:(off-key) ...and Ah'm hungry lahk the wolf...
Scientist 1: Dammit, this isn't working. (reaching for a knob) We need more charming Southerness!
Scientist 2: No! The system can't take it!
(Scientist 1 cranks the knob all the way into the red.)
KMI005: *giggle* Ah lahk pea-yus. *giggle*
RA: She's gonna blow!
Scientist 1: Oh, come on, she's not that bad.
RA: No, I mean--
RKI005:(exploding) KUH-BLAYUM!
(The scientists emerge from the pile of heavily accented rubble.)
Scientist 1: Well. I guess we'll have to go with plan C.
Scientist 2: I think that was plan C.
Scientist 1: Plan D, then. Phil! Bring the frisbees.
RA: (dying) I'm... not... Phil.

THE END

One of my favorite things in the world is my sattelite radio (XM, because they have baseball). And one of my favorite stations is UPOP; all Europop, all the time. This is one of the reasons why:




(Yes, it is a dance cover of a seriously uncool eighties pop hit. And yes the video is so cheesy it passes by "so bad it's good", right back to just "bad". But face it; if that song does not make you want to get out of your chair and get down with your bad self, then you may be clinically dead.)

This Is Just So Sad

You know your team is not doing that great when the main point of your advertising materials is that people should come to the games to see the great players on the other teams:

SEE KOBE, IVERSON, AND CARMELO

Take advantage of this exclusive opportunity to purchase individual tickets for the Lakers and Nuggets

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