I didn't really watch much of the Oscars, but I'm so glad I caught the super cute guy who won the best whatever award. In his acceptance speech, he thanked his wife and told her he loves her more than rainbows. Which is, presumably, a huge compliment. I mean, he didn't really say how he feels about rainbows so we don't know for sure. But I love rainbows and I love that guy's speech.
But you just want to talk about fashion, right? OK, then I won't mention that Alec Baldwin drove me to distraction by incessantly tapping himself in the left hip, and get on with it. I thought everyone looked predictably pretty and fabulous. Here are my top three ladies who are not Sandra Bullock:
1. Helen Mirren. I don't even want to look like this in thirty years. I want to look like this right now.
2. Susan Downey. I guess someone's been reading my blog. Look how soft, pretty, and understated she is. And all in horizontal stripes. Oh, now you're just showing off!
3. Demi Moore. I know. But you can't deny how amazing she looks in this dress. You can't.
And here's everyone's favorite, Sandra Bullock.
FYI- I don't have a problem with this. It's fun. She's having fun.
But I do have a problem with this. Because it makes me feel old. Oh, sure, I am old. And, apparently, so is the Brat Pack. But I try not to dwell on it. I'd like to thank the Academy for reminding me of my mortality.
And now it's time for an Internet confession. Can we dim the lights for a second? Thanks. I was deeply saddened that my pretend boyfriend, out of respect for his wife, let's call him Shmason Shmeitman, and his blockbuster movie, Up in the Air, didn't win the Best Director, Best Picture, or Best Screenplay awards. Apparently the Academy has a problem recognizing genius. But, more importantly, what's up with my weird attraction to Shmason Shmeitman? It just doesn't make any sense. LL Cool J, yes, that's obvious. But Shmason Shmeitman, less so. I suggested to Mr. Blyleaf that it's pheromones or something, but he's convinced pheromones don't transmit via television. I don't know. Shmason, call me. I love you more than rainbows, baby.
