I Watched the Oscars So You Wouldn’t Have to

Feb 24, 2008 by

All seven hours and 48 minutes of it. Now you owe me.

Let’s see what I remember – cause it’s fading fast.

Javier Bardem won for Best Supporting Actor Who Would Blow You Away without Blinking if He’d Lost. Tilda Swinton won for Best Supporting Actress Who Would Crush Your Nuts if You Hadn’t Voted for Her. Marion Cotillard won Best Actress Who Can Still Lip-Sync in Middle-Aged Latex Makeup. And I’ve already forgotten who won the Best Actor Award.

Oh, no, wait, I remember, cause Helen Mirren gave it to him. That was what’s-his-name, the guy everybody considers the best actor walking the face of the earth right now so the rest of you guys might as well just kiss your careers goodbye and call it a night. He’s married to Arthur Miller’s daughter.

What else do I remember?

I remember the Coen brothers acting really weird and above it all while Frances McDormand – the wife of one of them – was having a barroom ball, yelling and whistling, when they started winning all the big Oscars.

I remember that chick from the Show-Me-the-Money movie coming out to give an award, looking all body-builder in a white gown covered with sparkly stuff and slit up to here. Can somebody tell me how she can even see to walk with her eyes closed all the time?

And I’ll never forget when the announcer announced my girl, Dame Helen, and she just stood there in a red number with rhinestone sleeves. She looked hotter than any woman her age has a right to look. Then she crossed downstage to the microphone real slow. She made ’em wait for her. That’s what a real woman does. She even spoke real slow. Like a real woman does. And she said cojones. Like a woman says cojones. With a tinge of danger.

Helen, come home. Please, come home. I promise you’ll never find me sleeping on your stoop again. The last time it happened, the cops really set me straight. I’m clean now, and sober. I’ll only walk by every now and then.

That’s pretty much all I remember. I have to go to bed now.


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