No. Not the one that happens after we die. The one I'm gonna render about last night's Oscars.
About 40 minutes into the program I suddenly had the urge to put my own eyes out so I didn't have to watch anymore. I know it would be smarter to just turn off the TV. But those of you who know me also know I don't know how to turn our new TV off and/or on. So yeah. That's why I always resort to the eyeball thing.
Anyway, I was regretting my decision to announce that I was live-blogging. I just couldn't get into it, so all my comments were pretty lame. I'm impressed I even bothered to put a period at the end of them because I was just so "meh." At least if the show had been truly ghastly, I would have had good material to work with. As it was, all I could do was express genuine happiness that Bret got an oscar, that Chris Rock was energetic, that Emma Stone stole the show, and that Angelina Jolie and her thigh presented like a hot Southern mess.
I might not watch next year. We'll see.
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3 comments:
The Oscars make me feel like I'm in high school again sitting at the nerd table with my peeps and watching the populars act like freaking idiots and wonder what's all the fuss about.
Confession: I do like to see their dresses. Who doesn't?
We watched the last hour. I shall regret Angelina's thigh on my son's behalf. Oy.
I'm with ya, sister. I keep watching, wondering why I watch. Maybe it's the dresses. Maybe it's for the surprising real moments. Who knows.
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