It’s raining and cold, and I’m sitting in front of the TV watching the Oscars — because Jon Stewart is the host. It’s sad that he left his funny in New York; couldn’t someone who cared overnighted it to him? And sent some to the rest of everyone trying to be funny, who are so not funny at all? It’s embarassing to watch, and yet, I cannot stop taking in the lameness. They’re all so detached it’s freaky. I’ve been kind of depressed this weekend and for some reason it makes me feel not so bad.
Anyway, I have a strong drink (I *need* it for this self-suckfest), I’m following the very mean, very gay Oscar liveblogging at toiletpaperonline.com as I follow along, and in an hour I’m meeting Annalee and Charlie to see Ultraviolet, which I’ve heard is Ultralame, but she has my name, my hair and rides a motorcycle, like me. To live with myself after seeing the Oscars, I’ll need to watch the video for Pink’s Stupid Girls (WMP, iTunes) a couple of times and smuggle a bottle into the theater…
