Bloggin' The Oscars!

Cool day. I picked up the Baron at the train station in Doylestown. We had Faithful Companion in tow, because Faithful Companion let it be known In No Uncertain Terms that he was looking forward to a trip to the bark park this weekend. So off we went. We stopped at the drive-thru Starbucks and then hit the park. Where, of course, Faithful Companion was a hit. As always. My boy knows how to work a room. Or a fenced enclosure as the case may be.

Then, we stopped at the supermarket of the smokin' hot men, Clemons Market in Plumsteadville, to pick up stuff for dinner. At the door I gave the Baron a choice for dinner: chili con carne or beef stew. (I wanted to make it vaguely Brokeback. I wasn't gonna make beans. Or soup.)

The beef stew was sensational. (Tossed it with lemon zest and deglazed with balsamic vinegar.) I served it over slices of french bread slathered with danish bleu cheese.)

And here we are watching the Oscars.

First off, John Stewart is doing an amazing job. He is a total pleasure to watch. And it's just snorter after snorter.

The Baron feels that something has been lost with keeping the acceptance speeches so short so they can keep on track. After all, it was fun when you had no idea what was going to happen. Hearing the winner for best sound mixing or whatever have a melt down.

Boring clothes so far this year, huh?

Huh. So far King Kong is the winningest movie of the year.

The Baron and I enjoyed working up this whole thing about Will Smith. Mister "I Can't Kiss A Guy Cuz That's Not How I Am." (Funny, I thought that was called "acting.") Anyway, we decided that it was like what my old friend George Catravas said when I asked him if he ever had done drag: "No. Because I'm worried that if I ever got into a dress, I'd never get out of a dress." If Will Smith ever kissed a guy... By the way, Will, seen Brokeback Mountain? Think that was a good career move for Heath and Jake?

Yay! Phillip Seymour Hoffman! Yay!!! My favorite Truman Capote story. Tru was going out on the town with a friend of his. When he picked her up at her apartment, she said she neede another minute to get ready, so he amused himself by bouncing a ball for her greyhound to catch and retrieve. He gave a good bounce to it, and it went out onto the balcony and over the railing. And so did the dog. On the fourteenth floor. "I'm ready!" his friend announced. "Okay. Let's go," answered Truman. As they were leaving the building, there was a crowd gathered with people looking up. "Oh God," said Capote, "Don't look. I think it's a suicide!"

Awww, Felicity didn't get it. But I'm thrilled for Reese. If I remember correctly, her father is a proctologist in Nashville, who treated my Awful Ex for something. So Reese Witherspoon's father examined a butthole that I know pretty well. (Six degrees of something there, huh?) Joachim Phoenix is soooooo dreamy. He's no Vin Diesel, but he's not bad. I bet he's a great kisser. Although I bet he's gets pouty.

Dustin Hoffman! True story! Didja all know that the house that the Weather Underground blew up accidentally in the West Village on West Eleventh Street was right next door to Dustin Hoffman's house? And that because he was outed as a neighbor in the reportage, he had to move?

C'mon Brokeback. C'mon Brokeback!

Yesssss! Brokeback get it for Best Screenplay! Yesssss! And I love these guys.

That's so cool what Larry McMurtry said. "The culture of books." And did you catch the Andrew Marvell reference? "Rough strife?" Nice.

Best Original Screenplay is a tough call! Oh. Crash got it. I haven't seen that yet. Hasn't come to the County Theater.

Directing! C'mon Ang Lee! We're lovin' Ang Lee! Since I saw The Ice Storm I loved him. I even loved what he did to The Hulk. *sigh* The greatness of love itself. I'm down with that.

(Yesterday, when I got together with the Ball Breakers yesterday, the question was posed while four of us were walking down the street who was Carrie, who was Miranda, who was Charlotte, and who was . I'm Carrie, I said. Who's Mr. Big? I was asked. Special Guy. Special Guy is my Mr. Big. What's it mean that he's your Mr. Big. "It means," I answered, "that in the ups and downs of my love life, at the back of my mind is the knowledge that I had something great, and that maybe it will work around to us finding each other again."

What! Crash! No! No no no no NO! I hate Crash. I refuse to see Crash. We was so robbed.

Damn.

Okay. Not only was Brokeback Mountain the best movie I saw last year. It was the best movie I've seen ever.

Damn.

The Baron is being philosophical. I'm not. I'm being bitter. I want to lash out.

Anyway.

'Night.

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