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Sunday, Feb. 25, 2007 / 3:12 p.m. ~Oscar Night~ I know it's weird, or, okay, maybe it's not, okay, it's not weird at all, but I'm excited about the Academy Awards, aka The Oscars, tonight. I think I'm always excited, every year, even when I tell myself I'm not in the mood at all, and really I could not care less. I think I'm always still really excited. I find myself thinking about the nominees the night before, wondering how nervous they are, wondering what they're doing, wondering how they'll be made to look gorgeous, even if they spend the night drinking and worrying, all anxious that they might fall down on their way to the podium, or even worse... not win at all. Practicing their "Well, I'm just honored to have been nominated..." looks, and speeches backstage afterward. Sticking fingers down their throats to throw up that last little bit of pasta from the night before, today, worried they won't fit into dresses far too tight. And then men and their ties, and those awkward bow ties, and those suits that are so uncomfortable, and then there are the jewels, and the guards assigned to watch the jewels, and the photographers capturing every little move, every nuance of every unintended facial expression. How nervewracking. I think my favorite thing about the whole event, all of it, from the buzz about possible nominations, to the nominations themselves, to the Big Night, is that it's not about me. I don't have to go through it, I will never be nominated, I will never be famous, I will never have photographers following me when I get in my Toyota and drive to the Publix for groceries, nor capturing every ugly facial expression I make when I think they're not looking at me on my way down the red carpet on Oscar Night. I like being excited about it, but something always lets me down, and I suppose it's usually the first absurdly long acceptance speech wherein the Oscar recipient thanks a list of people read off a small piece of crumpled paper pulled from a tuxedo pocket, or out of a chest full of cleavage, name after name that I will never recognize, all read in a monotonal drone that makes me want to hurt someone just to hear it. And then the music starts, the orchestra leader playing the person off stage, but the person wanting to read off every name, and then remembering a few that weren't there, and then maybe it's the bright lights shining in his or her face, but the person seems unable to leave the spotlight, and keeps going on and on, and we're all squirming then, the people in the audience at the Kodak Theatre, and the billion or so people around the world sitting on sofas and chairs and barstools watching this nightmare of an embarrassing acceptance speech, and when the person finally leaves the stage we applaud quite thunderously, not because we are happy he or she finally won, but because he or she has finally left the goddamned stage! This year Ellen will be our host, and she is fantastic, always, she is never anything less, and she's a lesbian, the kind of lesbian the whole world can love, and she now has a beautiful lesbian girlfriend, so we're happy for her, and she is so clean and good and safe for the whole family, the first family-oriented lesbian that is not adopting a family all Rosie-O'Donnell style, but family-oriented in that she is clean, and she is kind, and she has those beautiful blue eyes that sparkle when she smiles, and even when she's not smiling she is smiling, we can feel it, and really we would all like to fuck her, every last one of us, because she appeals to the men and the women, and we like lesbians, so there's that. She's funny too, did I neglect to mention that Ellen is funny? So she's a funny kind hearted clean joked lesbian that everyone loves, man, woman, child and especially animal - Ellen loves animals too! So, tonight should be good. I'll watch the arrivals on E!, and then I'll have to move to the bedroom so I can tape "The Amazing Race" on the living room TV where the VCR is, and then I'll head back into the living room to watch the last three or four hours of the Oscars, and I'll roll my eyes at the stupidly long acceptance speeches, and I'll be suitably embarrassed for the people who are played off stage by that ridiculous orchestral noodling music, but I'll be smiley and happy for the people who win, because they were nervous that they would not, win, and there they will be, winning, and long-winded, and their families will be watching at home, if they're not there in the Kodak Theatre. And then they'll all go out to fabulous Hollywood parties with fabulous food created by fabulous celebrity chefs like Wolfgang Puck, and I can assuage my envy by imagining that none of it is vegetarian, none of the fabulous food at those fabulous parties, so I wouldn't want to be there anyway. There was one time when I thought I was going to the Academy Awards. My mom knew one of the actors, and I forget his name, but he was small potatoes, comparatively, and yet she knew him, and she said he would get us tickets, and we would go, and I wanted to wear one of my sister's outfits, and I tried it on and I told my friends we were going, and then of course, well, we never did, but for a time I imagined I'd walk the red carpet, and I'd have people taking pictures of me, and I'd be famous too, for a night, little ten year old me. Now? I'm happy to watch from my futon sofa, or from the bed for the first hour while the VCR tapes "The Amazing Race" for me to watch tomorrow. And I'll be happy to get up when I need to, to pee, or to get something to eat, to make a cup of green tea. And to sit and laugh, and smile, and groan, and flip channels when I get really bored. It's Oscar Night, after all. Cost of the War in Iraq
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