I Have Become Accustomed To Rejection

No news on the writing front. I am slowly losing my mind. I am not learning patience the way I should. Rejection continues to reject me though on the editorial front, I continue to receive rejections of my rejections and that’s a real treat.

I love awards shows. I love the pomp, the pretense, the absurdity of it all. I buy that shit hook, line and sinker. The Oscars are a close second in my heart to the Tonys. I plan on winning both–for writing, people. For writing. I’m not delusional.

Here’s what I love about The Oscars. Hollywood makes movies, right? They can make a movie like Avatar (which I loved) and all the other great movies we love or hate or love to hate and yet… every single year, the Oscars telecast sucks. That’s pretty remarkable, isn’t it? It’s like all that talent in Hollywood implodes on itself and vomits out a great big mess of a show that plods on and on. Every year they schedule the show for 3. 5 hours and it runs 4. JUST SCHEDULE THE SHOW FOR FOUR HOURS. Honestly. It’s like the weight on your driver’s license. It’s never quite right but really, why do we lie? Who looks at our drivers’ licenses that closely?

What was the deal with the lampshades on the set? And not just one or two–hundreds of lampshades. Awesome.

There are some great recaps across the Internet but I’ll share a few observations.

The commercials were even worse (awesomer) than the telecast. Whoopi? What happened? How are you shilling for panty liners for old people? Nothing made me sadder than that. I’m also pretty freaked out about getting cervical cancer by using perfume every 47 minutes. That was an insane commercial. Finally, WTF Samsung? Honestly, they ran their commercial 141 times. That stupid song is seared into my brain. OH OH. Hey Soul… hell.

I watch the pre-show and I hate the pre-show. You know something is bad when it makes you feel sorry for beautiful, thin, rich and famous people but watching them have to endure the stupidest questions in the history of stupid questions really fills me with a deep and abiding sorrow. I look at my life and think yeah, this is not so bad.

I remember Kathy Ireland. When I was a child she was a famous model. She had a round, perky little face and the prettiest eyes you ever did see. I had largely forgotten about Kathy Ireland save for knowing about the Kathy Ireland Collection that they used to sell at K-mart and the fact that she’s a super Christian like Kirk Cameron. I was really shocked to see her during the ABC pre-show special, her face stretched so tightly it was like there was a puppeteer in heaven holding the strings to her facial features. Her frightening look coupled with her inability to coherently engage with the red carpet pretty people nearly pushed me over the edge.

Neil Patrick Harris is awesome, even in a sad, shiny jacket but the opening number was confusing and unless you’re into old Hollywood musicals, you probably didn’t get why it was really kind of cool.

I didn’t love Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin as co-hosts. I laughed but I wasn’t bowled over. Another mystery: why is it so goddamned hard to find the right host, year after year? Is hosting the Oscars an impossible gig? I just don’t get it. Hollywood comes together to celebrate themselves and pat themselves on their backs and they can’t find the right way to showcase their self-referential awesomeness? WTFingF?

The stupid tableau of best actor/actress nominees at the top of the show was stupid. It was uncomfortable. Frankly, I was uncomfortable for 97% of the telecast. I would literally cringe and tell J make it stop and he’d say, “You’re the one who loves this stuff,” and then he’d have another drink. Poor thing. But I watch Bass Pro fishing whatever with him even though to compare that boring nonsense to the fabulousness of the Oscars would just be insulting.

John Hughes is amazing and the tribute was both fitting and necessary. I was sad that they made Molly wear such an unfortunate bang. I’m telling myself it was an unnamed they responsible because I refuse to believe she chose this hairstyle herself. When will Judd Nelson be appearing on Intervention so I can set my DVR? Jon Cryer is on a hit network TV show and Molly Ringwald is on ABC Family. That’s wrong.

Team Farrah! She was a LONG LONG LONGTIME member of the Academy and they decided she wasn’t worthy? Really? Their BS about not having enough room is shocking. Three words: THE BURNING BED. Another word: EXTREMITIES. Beloved Bea Arthur, sassy Dorothy? Maude? Ugh. The omissions were glaring. Like, what? The interpretive dance (more later) was more important than Farrah’s flip hairdo that I tried to get my mother to style into my hair to no avail? I do not think so, Academy.

Almost forgot… Kristen Stewart. Honestly. I love her work, I do, but the sullen adolescent misery thing whenever a camera is trained on her is a bit much. If you don’t want to be famous maybe don’t star in the movie series based on the books that are like the bestsellingest books in the history of bookdom.

Certain women have made ironclad pacts with Satan. Among these women let us include Demi Moore, Michelle Pfeiffer and Sigourney Weaver who look absolutely flawless. I’m pretty sure they sleep in warm baths of virginal blood and humidify their homes with baby breath.

We are now to understand that the term “Kanye” is a verb. Usage: That red-headed lady in the purple muumuu totally Kanye’d that one guy during his acceptance speech and it was uncomfortable.

The way the producers panned to the seven black people in the audience every single time Precious or The Blind Side was mentioned was insulting and hilarious and awkward.  The way they announcer kept harping on the first female director, first black this, first purple unicorn, on on and on was also awkward. I am still cringing. It was unbelievable. I had to consult my calendar to make sure it was, as I was led to believe, 2010.

I’m pretty surprised that the Kodak Theater didn’t burst into flames when Tyler Perry took the stage given that he is the anti-Christ.

Quentin Tarantino is a talented man but he’s a bit much sometimes, isn’t he? Also he has a scary face.

The middle 2.5 hours of the show where they give out the boring awards was a great time for me to play with my phone via Twitter and get into the world’s stupidest argument involving a lightbulb that has been out for four weeks and someone, though I’m not naming names, who hadn’t changed it yet. The argument may have gone like this:

“So, about the lightbulb in the bathroom and the fact that we’re pilgrimming it up in there LIke Laura Ingalls and Almanzo Wilder.”

There is a grunt and the light hiss of a Bud Light (gross) being opened.

As an aside, let us ignore that I could change the bulb myself because I’m tall enough. It’s the principle of the thing. My desk lamp in my office on campus hasn’t worked this year and by this year, I mean this academic year. There are tasks I prefer not to do and they include changing lightbulbs and putting trash out. I’m up front about these quirks.

“Maybe you could just stand on a chair and change it right now and then we could brush our teeth with a light source overhead and that might be nice.”

“You could just stand on a chair and change it too. I don’t live here.”

There was an awkward pause because I think he knew he had taken a wrong turn. I knew I was about to escalate in a truly ridiculous, unnecessary way and that he was only half-assing a response from the depths of an Oscar-induced misery compounded by my incessant chatter (I literally will not shut up during an Oscar telecast and my mom was out of the country and unavailable to chat with me) and my phone blinking on every 3.7 minutes as I Twittered. I soldiered forward. I am a real catch. I said, “Are you trying to be funny? Are you trying to be mean? Do you hate the chair? Do you want me to break a leg? I don’t stand on chairs! WTF?” I was throwing crazy left and right. I impressed myself because I wasn’t even mad. I kind of like to argue and he’s so mellow as to be practically comatose. I have to work at it.

Suddenly my sparring partner started paying attention but it was a bit too late. The phrases “hairball infestation,” “well you can leave sir,” and “good day,” may have been used at this point.

I did pause so we could enjoy the extraordinarily uncomfortable interpretive dance break that was not only random, decontextualized, sad and bizarre but quite long. I kept wondering if someone would fall off those set pieces. I’m glad nothing was hurt but the audience’s collective soul.

Suffice it to say, the fire burned bright and fast and five minutes later, there was light in one half of the bathroom and the other half will hopefully be illuminated tomorrow when I buy more lightbulbs. It’s awesome to be able to see in there again. I apologized in my own way. Also, I only don’t spend more time at his place (which I confess is not infested, there are only two felines) because I’m allergic to cats and to go over there I need to take Benadryl and Benadryl often makes me sleep. Also, I have a PlayStation and I’m not the one who plays it all the time. I have the Internet habit but his girlfriend is Call of Duty something or other and she’s a real tramp.

Having both successfully picked a fight and had it resolved quite amicably, I was in a good place to enjoy the best part of the Oscars–the final four awards.

I wanted Gabby Sidibe to win just to see what she would say but Sandra Bullock is a charming gal who may also have a pact with a certain overlord of the underworld and I enjoyed seeing her win. It’s kind of weird, though, isn’t it, that Meryl Streep hasn’t won an Oscar since 1982? Back to Gabby Sidibe. Does anyone else want to slice off her cheeks and nibble on them? They are juicy.

Jeff Bridges seemed a bit smug as he accepted his coronation but I reckon he’s earned it. Loved him in The Vanishing. Other than that, his voice creeps me out. Just cannot deal.

The most delicious part of the night though was seeing Kathryn Bigelow seated in front of James Cameron and watching her movie beat the tar out of Avatar (which, again, I did love) over and over and over. That never got old. Of course, he’s laughing all the way to the bank but still, Kathryn Bigelow made Point Break also known as one of the best movies in the history of all movies ever made anywhere so suck it James!