Best of 2013

"There are years that ask questions and years that answer."
- Zora Neale Hurston

I've always like that quote. It's just so...accurate. Especially as I get older. I'd like to add, though - it might be a while before you know which years are which.

2013 was kind of a weird year. Intense. One of those slow burns, where you don't realize how much has changed until it's over and you do, suddenly, realize - how much it's all changed. It can take a while to comb through all the Qs and all the As. Some things might belong in both piles, some in neither. Some might make their way from one to the other over time. I'm grateful for all of them, though - even if, in the moment, my feelings were more akin to 'Are You Fucking Kidding Me?'

It'll be a minute before I dig into that deep shit. Also, I just got back from visiting my parents and my dog isn't home yet (sometimes we holiday separately), so I'm somewhat emotional, and I don't really need to hop aboard the New Year's Crazy Train of Emotion right now. It's a local, making frequent stops for tiny tearful outbursts. It's fine, it just takes fucking forever, that route is exhausting. So, for now, some lighter - but no less true - fare:

Hotel Experience I Only Need Once: The Yotel.

Almost every hotel I stayed in this year was purely lovely. It was an utterly charming year in hotels. Even the Holiday Inn Express near Penn Station - the bed was apartment-sized, and I had a view into a kids' fencing academy across the alley. I didn't even know that was a thing!*

The Yotel was...different. I think the concept was 'The Future' - specifically, the future envisioned by people in the year 1995. Which included a lot of purple track lighting and pod-like spaces. Man, we really toned down our cultural expectations in the 90s. In Back to the Future Part 2, everyone was like '2015: Flying Cars, Hoverboards.' By the Clinton administration, we were like 'purple, smaller.'

Bathcorner adjacent view

So, in the future, New Age Murphy Beds are a thing. Your tiny couch will extend into a bed, extremely slowly, via a vaguely hospital-looking button installed into the leg of your tiny desk. When extended, the bed will touch the wall, bathing your feet in the warm glow of the giant television, allowing you to wonder if your whole life is occasionally a terrible Truman Show performance art piece. (Note: I was basically standing in the bathroom when taking this. Excuse me, the bathcorner. It was not a room.)

Watching tv from the shower was pretty cool

In the future, you can see your toilet from your bed. I don't like that. It makes me feel like I'm in jail. Fancy jail is still jail, people. Also jail-like (clearly I have never been to jail): the body wash and shampoo/conditioner (a 2-in-1, SHUDDER) were in dispensers, bolted to the wall. I'm not sure, but I feel like this takes innocent toiletry-hoarding into misdemeanor teritory. Yotel: the airport-jail experience. Of the future.

Salacious Yet Inspiring Memoir: Pam Grier's Foxy: A Life In Three Acts. Do you want to read about the time Richard Pryor's mini horse destroyed in the interior of Pam Grier's Jag with its mini horse pee? Of course you do.

Trip I Will Make My Assistant Take Next Year: The answer to this question should be Buffalo, because Buffalo is the worst. (Sorry, anyone from Buffalo. Sorry on several levels.) We should just give it back to Canada and see if they can do better**.

Even getting to and from Buffalo is an exercise is late industrial depression. My flight was supposed to leave at 10:10am. At around 10:15, myself and the other sad individuals making their way to Buffalo on a Tuesday morning were permitted through the gate and loaded...onto a bus***. I'm pretty sure it was the bus that transported Andy Dufresne to the penitentiary in The Shawshank Redemption****. We were driven to a 'plane' with about eleven seats and nine seat belts. I don't think I heard an engine, we were just catapulted into the air and piloted on like, air currents and hope. The lone flight attendant was a cranky 80-year-old man who immediately reminded everyone aboard that alcohol was available for purchase. (He was Hall of Fame. I asked for seltzer water and he kind of rolled his eyes. He asked if I wanted ice and my affirmative answer earned a double roll with a side of 'of course this bitch wants ice' airs. I LOVE HIM.)

It didn't get a lot better from there. It was snowing, then slushing, and I spent much of the trip was sliding around in a filthy white VW Beetle trying to avoid hitting rogue Buffalonians trudging down the middle of unplowed streets like refugees from a nuclear holocaust. Outside the tiny historic district I was visiting, the city was ringed with big-box dollar stores and fast-food joints; relics of once-lovely early 20th c. architecture, now host sites for methadone clinics, windows boarded across the upper floors. Mega churches that could double as indoor stadiums, schools easily mistaken for 1980s courthouses. I got lost and the sliding was unsettling, but the streets - and the stores, and the buildings - were mostly deserted. Except, of course, for the refugees We failed you, Buffalo. My lord.

That said, everyone I met in Buffalo was so nice. Like, absurdly, ridiculously nice, the kind of nice that makes me sort of nervous, but that can more than compensate for a shitty snowy afternoon and road zombies.

So, my actual answer is New Rochelle. Holy shit. I was there for less than an hour, and I'm pretty sure I stared directly into the face of evil about four times. It was like that movie Fallen, except the evil spirit was just being passed around to wherever I was likely to look next. One guy looked exactly like Laura Palmer's dad at like, the height of his possession. I realize none of this is specific or seemingly based in reality, but believe me, it was deeply unsettling. And absolutely the place I visited this year where I felt most in danger of being kidnapped and organ harvested^. I was terrified it was all going to downward spiral into a Mouth of Madness situation, I'd never be able to escape the city limits, and some old lady would chain me up behind the desk of the Trump Tower (which HAS to be ironic, right?) and eat me. Also, I had a vicious hangover for a portion of the trip, which is not New Rochelle's fault, but  it really didn't help impressions.

Okay, sorry, the actual answer is: Buffalo and New Rochelle. Both. My assistant will have to do both.

Repeat Offense: One afternoon, late in May, I sat at the window of a tiny restaurant in Woods Hole with a perfect taco and a glass of red wine, watching the ocean turn indigo as the sky grayed. I had an hour and a half to kill before the next ferry to Martha's Vineyard, so I went to get lunch. I've made this trip three years in a row. In 2011, my father and I had a talk about families and mortality, surrounded by noisy teenagers en route to a varsity baseball game. How strange to grow up on an island. In 2012, Kyle came with me. We sat inside and made a list of the most efficient ways to cross water, depending on distance. I still have the list. Across the top, the game ending answer: 'Like Jesus: Walk^^.' In 2013, I went alone.
It wasn't raining, but it was more than fog, and from the window I watched the ferry pull in and thought about those trips, about those years. We all have our unexpected places, rearview mirrors we stumble across, angles that have become our own. I have this corner of this street, this hour before I get on the ferry, the air full of water, water everywhere.
You can learn a lot in three years.

Happy New Year, everyone. May it bring you love, and laughter, and plenty to remember.


*Maybe it was a YMCA class and not an academy but WHATEVER, those crazed little beekeepers just delighted me.
**I know it wasn't part of Canada. Actually, I don't know that at all.
***I am not even going to get into the passengers. Okay, briefly: they included an Australian lady who I'm pretty sure was lured to Buffalo in an organ-harvesting scam, and a noticeably drunk guy in a rumpled suit who was 'in the perfume business' and planned on 'starting his life over'. In Buffalo. 
****I will admit to asking myself at this point 'are we just going to drive there?' Given my limited handle on American highway geography and like, physics, this thought probably generated more pondering than it warranted.
^And...the second organ harvesting reference I've made in the footnotes to a blog post? What the hell is the matter with me?
^^Which is certainly not the most efficient way, but it made us laugh. We'd also listed 'scuba walking' and 'water skiing tubing' (short trips only)'. While we were on a boat with cars inside of it.

Gravity: Underpants and Confusion

Okay, so I owe my dad a post about peeing in New York (that was weird to write) and it's coming, I promise - especially since I have another travel week on the horizon - but first: my review of the critically-discussed movie Gravity. Massive spoiler alerts. Sort of.

As a disclaimer: I'm not really into space. I actually think space is pretty stupid and don't understand why anyone would want to go there. Did you run out of amazing places on Earth to visit? Yeah? Liar. It takes forever to get NOWHERE in space. There's no wine. You can't bring your dog. I'm pretty sure there's no internet. No bookstores. Space is literally infinitely boring.

So the whole premise of the movie - some lady like, falling out of her spaceship or whatever* - is not that sympathetic to me. If you fall out of your spaceship, that is your fault. For being in space in the first place. I feel much the same about people who get eaten by bears while camping in remote areas. Do you know that we invented hotels? People bring you new soaps every day. Nice soaps. And towels. You want to sleep in dirt, fine. But don't blame the bears. You failed a Darwin test. There are no bears in hotels.

Anyway, you're like 'so why the fuck did you go see Gravity, you joyless harpy?' Fair question. Kyle had two free movie passes, and we'd heard Gravity was kind of visually ill when viewed on IMAX/3-D, and that was happening at the theatre near Kyle's house, and the idiot government is still shut down - you might have heard - so no museums are open, and it was rainy, so we were like 'let's just do that'. Everyone likes George Clooney. Even if he's in stupid space.

Before we left, we spent a moment with the new inhalation contraption favored by cool kids and people like Action Bronson. Kyle took a shot of E&J in the basement, because that's where they keep their E&J. We had weird/great/unnecessarily strong mango margaritas at a Mexican place near the train station. This paragraph kind of explains the rest of my review.

We got tickets to the 5:30 show. It took forever to get popcorn and Junior Mints, and once I was out of the line we walked through the first door we saw with 'Gravity' scrolling across the marquee line. Inside, the ONLY seats left were in the middle of the very front row. It didn't seem like we had much choice, so we just sat.

It was close to 5:40 - figuring three to five minutes for previews, we didn't think we were in such bad shape. But everyone was SUPER SETTLED IN. No shuffling around or anything; it was sort of intimidating. I was a bit put off. How seriously can you take any situation where every person in the room is wearing the same silly glasses? On screen, Sandra Bullock was deep into some existential crisis, and I was like, Jesus, space movies are IMMEDIATE bummers.

But whatever, we were there, so I tried to commit. Even though the first row of a 3D IMAX movie is unpleasant as HELL. It should be illegal to sell tickets to those seats. If you have any kind of seizure disorder, I am almost sure you could sue AMC for triggering the shit out of you.

After ten minutes, I was pretty bothered by the lack of set-up. Was this movie just throwing conventional narrative structure out the window? That seemed unlikely, given the target audience. Something was wrong. Kyle was on the same page.

"Do you think this is maybe the middle of the movie?" It seemed possible. We had no idea what was going on. Then George appeared. He and Sandy already seemed familiar. He dropped some knowledge. I elbowed Kyle: "Yo, let me look at the tickets." He handed them over. They said 5:30, and it was only 5:58, so this must be the beginning. It took another five minutes for me to realize the movie might be playing on several screens.

"This has to be the middle of the movie." We agreed. "Should we leave and find the right theatre?" We could not decide. Kyle'd become invested. That more or less settled it. And it was cool, I kind of was too, and we'd likely have similar problems in the right theatre at this point. I was mostly just annoyed that no one seated around us had the decency to be like 'hey, morons, this is the middle of the movie' when we walked in.

Anyway, onscreen: Clooney gives Sandy a pep talk, justifies her child's death-related depression, then disappears. I assume George died earlier in the film and that was his space ghost or something.  The talk works, because he's George Clooney, and Sandy's inspired to live or whatever. So she punches a LOT of buttons in an attempt to send herself back to Earth - like honestly, she gets out an instruction manual and just presses a ton of shit randomly-  it's exactly how I approach every DVR/cable set up I've ever encountered, so now I'm pretty confident I could be an astronaut. Then she blasts back to Earth and lands on a tropical beach, and gets out of her pod and lies on wet sand (gross) and cries, and she's wearing a tank top and underwear and I was like "When did she take her pants off? Did they burn off on re-entry? Is this Bali?" And those remain my biggest questions about the movie. Because then it ended. Also, Sandra Bullock is like, 50 years old and looks AMAZING in her underwear. Just wanted to shout that out. Hot-ass middle aged people in this movie, if that's a drawing point for you.

I asked Kyle if  we should  find someone and explain what we did wrong and see if we could watch the beginning parts that we missed, and he replied "I don't really feel like I need to, and now we have time to catch the Sox game." Which - word. Because it was probably better with more George Clooney, but even the parts in space that we did see were pretty boring, because they were in SPACE and that shit is boring as hell. So then we both went home. On my way, I bought some brown rice sushi at the Foggy Bottom Whole Foods and it was terrible. But there was still a whole box of Junior Mints and half a bottle of wine in my purse, so I'm chalking it up as a win.

Overall, pretty great little Saturday.

*My confusion regarding the premise of the movie will become clear in a moment.

Stranger In My House

Perhaps you've seen some of the recent press devoted to the epidemic/trend/bias word for 'observation': lots of people live alone these days. More than ever before, I guess. And it's making some people weird.

Like, really weird. I read about one dude who so delighted in the 'freedom' of living alone, he took the damn doors off his bathroom. Dude, I mean...I'm glad you're so comfortable, but this also suggests that you're at a place where you've stopped considering even the possibility of entertaining guests - or, really, any other human beings, ever - and that doesn't seem like a great sign.

I don't know how they do it.

And I'm not even really a 'people' person. In theory, I am full of love for all people and things. In practice, I hate like, 90% of everyone. Hate them a lot. I also really enjoy my own company. (Convenient, no?) Most things that people want company for, I really, really like doing by myself:

- Shopping

With the exception of Miss D, I really hate shopping with anyone. It takes too long. I only really care about what I want to buy. I want to be able to get really neurotic and try one thing on four times without judgement. Sometimes after two minutes in a store, I'm like 'fuck it, I don't want to shop right now, I want to talk a walk by myself and look at buildings' and if you're with somebody, that's hard to explain. It's also crazy selfish and flighty, so why put that on someone else?

- Going to Museums

I LOVE museums, and while I enjoy them with other people, I only truly LOVE them by myself. It's impossible to find someone who dorks out over the exact same shit you dork out over. Sometimes it's cool to have someone nearby, so you can exclaim 'OMG they have four Reginald Marsh's here!!!' except then they're like 'who's Reginald Marsh?' and that's fine, but still, Reginald Marsh! I'm going to check that out...by myself.

- Having any Kind of Spa Treatment

You know what I would LOVE? A hairdresser that did not feel the need to speak to me. I have so much anxiety before every haircut. What am I going to talk to this person about for 45 minutes?!?! It's why I don't think anyone needs to have breakfast with strangers - perform your service, and let's get out of here. We shouldn't have to make up common ground! The only time I've ever had a regular hairdresser was when I lived in the North End. This lady made my hair look fabulous, and was completely indifferent to me and I LOVED her for it. Then she moved and didn't really say goodbye, and oh my god I loved her so much.

But living alone? Uh-uh. I've done it for a month at a time, tops, and it's always awful. I drink so much! I hallucinate faces outside the windows constantly (probably not helped by the drinking, I know) I get glued in one spot. I don't get anything done. I watch entire seasons of America's Next Top Model that I've already seen. It's a total fucking meltdown. And I guess I'm lucky in that I've had pretty excellent random Craigslist experiences. Maybe it's weirdish, but it also seems like a really human thing to do. Like we're all this band of survivors who got out of our mid-20's without our living situations figured out, and now we have this weird little community in the New World. I don't know, it's not that dramatic.

Back in law school, my friend T extolled the virtues of solo living: "You can eat toast in your panties at 2am!" And as cool as that sounds, not once in the seven years since she dropped that on me has 2am rolled around, and I've I been like "I wish you motherfuckers did not live here, SO I COULD JUST SIT HERE IN MY UNDERWEAR AND EAT THIS TOAST IN PEACE." Like, seriously, most living situations I've been in, I'm pretty sure everyone would have been like 'dude, if it means so much to you, knock yourself out."

Certain things just seem unnatural to me. I guess living alone is one of them. Actually, besides living, I think there are only two other things I CANNOT DO by myself:

- Go to the Movies

This is not unnatural to me at all, I just can't do it. I don't know why. It's not like you can talk to someone during the movie anyway? Probably it's the post-movie discussion. If I'm paying $10, I want someone to chatter with afterwards. Also, I need someone to tell me what happened while I was in the bathroom. Oh, I totally get why I don't go alone.

- Attend a Party/Wedding/Function Where I am Expected to Mingle and/or Network

Oh, my goodness, I HATE doing that shit on my own. I tell people this and they're like 'but kk, you love parties, you love talking to people, you love...' Actually? I don't. Actually, I'm cripplingly insecure with a rabid case of social anxiety that I refuse to accept, so I end up drinking, and then I'm really fun and I do love meeting you and talking to you, but also, I'm drunk, and would you rather just go for a walk and look at buildings?

People + Buildings. It just always makes sense, to me.

Oh, Lord. Awkward Confession Time.

I have a dilemma, sort of.

See, there are approximately 20 movies out now/that will be released in the near future that I really really really want to see, and 'Milk' is at the top of the list, because it's supposed to be amazing. However, unfortunately for me, I already know that I will not enjoy 'Milk' - at least not like everyone else will. And you know why? It's the worst reason ever. It's...because ever since Sean Penn starred in 'I Am Sam' I CANNOT TAKE HIM SERIOUSLY. It's so stupid, but I can't get over it. It's not even Sean Penn's fault - I just hate movies that are purposely emotionally manipulative, I hate mannequins and I hate robots*...so OBVIOUSLY I hated 'I Am Sam'...

I am trying to get over this. Generally, I think Sean Penn seems like a pretty whacked out dude, and that's pretty appealing - I like my artists a tad unhinged. I'm aware he's actually a really good actor or whatever. AND THE MAN PLAYED JEFF SPICOLI. I mean really. What is my problem? 'Milk' is going to kick ass. Gus Van Sant! James Franco! I am going to love it. Really. NO I PROMISE MY BRAIN WON'T OVERRIDE THE SYSTEM AND ONLY HEAR SEAN PENN YELLING "IT MATTERS TO ME" DURING EVERY DRAMATIC MOMENT. I promise to try, anyway. Sheesh.

* Dakota Fanning is probably a robot.

Live Action Oscar Rambles

Oooh look! The Oscars are on! I didn't realize those were tonight. Hey - Jon Stewart is hosting? Yay! I love Jon Stewart! I'm going to watch this.

8:15 - Ok, there is a half hour pre show? On ABC? Hasn't E been doing this all day? I'm going to walk the dog.

8:30 - Finally. Opening monologue. I love you Jon Stewart. I even love your jokes that fall flat. Love you, love you.

8:40 - Initial thoughts on Oscar Hair 2008: so far both Ellen Page and Jennifer Garner are rocking messy textured hair that would look a whole lot better if it was just a little shiny. Messy hair is cool, but reassure me that it's clean, ladies. Jennifer Garner's hair actually looks exactly like mine did this morning. But I woke up on the couch this morning, after arriving home Saturday night and determining that my bed was simply too far, and the path there littered with too many shoes. Jennifer Garner's hair looked like it shared the evening with mine.

8:47 - Hey! George Clooney in the audience! Did you know his girlfriend was a waitress until like 15 minutes ago? Vote Clooney!

8:50 - 80th Oscar Birthday Montage. I dig the montage. By the way, when did the whole cultural backlash against Billy Crystal begin? Like, all of a sudden everyone hates him. What the hell did he ever do to you?

Oooh, I wish I had been alive when Isaac Hayes performed Shaft. That should win the Oscar for best performance in Oscar History. Then the category should be closed. It was that awesome. And Jesus, Hollywood was really open about its rampant drug use in the 70's. Oh, and the 60's. And the 80's.

8:52 - I love Anne Hathaway's skin. Her dress, however is heinous. It looks like she snipped a red lei in half and stapled it to her chest.

Jesus, I have seen no movies this year. This whole 'waiting till shit appears on HBO/On Demand' thing is killing me. Was Hot Rod nominated for anything? No?

Katherine Heigel...so, one shoulder brightly colored dresses are in this year? Kinda ick. But I am digging this pale skin thing.

Hey, the third Pirates of the Carribbean movie came out already? I still haven't seen the second one.

8:55 - I'm seeing La Vie En Rose like, immediately. I just developed the hugest crush on Marion Cotillard.

9:00 - I hate the Oscar songs. Always. These songs always suck. Except Shaft, of course. And when Three Six Mafia was nominated. The song sucked, actually, it was just a really weird cultural moment. Why the hell is Amy Adams singing about scrubbing toilets? Why is she wearing an outfit from my elementary school music teacher's wardrobe? Her heels are killer, though.

9:05 - Yes! The McDonald's commercial with the b-boy kid dunking his apple slices! I want to hang out with that kid.

9:07 - When did The Rock become a legitimate actor? What did I miss? I mean, he's not presenting for Best Actor or anything, so he's not that legit...yet. At this rate he'll be the mayor of someplace in three years. Oh, you don't believe me? Did you know that Jesse Ventura was in Predator? Wrestler --> Actor --> Politician. That's how the politically ambitious and heavily muscled roll.

9:10 - Vanessa Paradis has lipstick on her teeth. I didn't know that actually happened in real life.

Ooh, Cate Blanchett is presenting. I LOVE Cate Blanchett. It's almost impossible to believe she's real. Did you see Notes on a Scandal? She's super human. I could write poetry dedicated to her hair in that movie. And I like her dress, except for the collar. What the hell is going on at the neckline? It looks like she's holding the fabric up with a floral boa constrictor.

9:20ish - Best Supporting Actor Award, presented by Jennifer Hudson. Goddamn, Jennifer Hudson. Did you take like 4 Ambien and attack your dress with a pair of scissors before you got on stage? Are you a robot? Is your system malfunctioning? Someone help her.

Javier Bardem wins! And then immediately makes out with the old lady next to him. Isn't he dating Penelope Cruz? Did he just love all over his mom? That was weird. She looks like she rocks though - check out her bracelets! And dope speech, Javier. God, he's sexy. Ok, but stop making out with your mom, man. It's creeping me out.

9:30ish - I adore Kerri Russell, and her necklace and her dress...but why is the bodice so huge? I love that she's cool with her small chest...but a camera with a birds eye view could make this shit x-rated real fast. You're Kerri Russell. Get it fitted.

Woah, the song from August Rush does not suck. Who is this little girl singing? She's incredible. Is she wearing track pants?

And the Oscar for Whitest Moment of the Evening goes to Jon Stewart...for referring to the ubiquitous white person dance as 'the cabin patch'. My flame of love for him flickered a little there.

9:40: Best Supporting Actress Award. Tilda Swinton wins! Goddamn, Tilda looks a hot mess. That is the ugliest dress I have ever seen. And I love the pale skin this year, but this woman looks dead. Like she was buried for 3 months, and dug her way out of the ground just in time for the ceremony. She is still wearing the shroud she was buried in. Her speech was cool, though. She said 'nipples' and 'buttocks' in the same minute. Jesus, how freaking hot is George Clooney? I need to see Michael Clayton.

9:45 - Even Jessica Alba is pale! I love it! God, she's gorgeous. But what the hell is with all the horrendous bodice-feathers tonight? The inspiration, apparently, was a very timid showgirl.

9:50 - Best Screenplay Based on Material Already Produced or Published or Something...damn, didn't this category just used to be called 'Best Adapted Screenplay'? How do they fit all that on the Oscar? There's not much room for text.

9:52 - Another wack song. Miley Cyrus terrifies me, although her dress was beautiful. (Did you know Miley is short for Smiley, which is what her parents called her as a baby? That is the stupidest nickname I have ever heard.) Kristin Chenowith is so cute, I wish she wasn't torturing my ears with this heinousness. Do she and Kerri Russell shop at Too Big In the Bodice 'R Us? It's cool that you own your flat chestedness. But you're rich. Find a tailor. Oh my God, this song is awful.

10:02 - Is it weird that I have an ENORMOUS CRUSH on Seth Rogen? I don't usually go for pudgy guys with JewFros. And yet.

The Sound Mixing and editing Award...Tommy Lee Jones was in No Country for Old Men? I didn't know that. There's this whole weird segment of the population who insist he looks like my Dad. Really! Whenever my Dad used to tell me this, I never believed him, because he looks nothing like Tommy Lee Jones. Then we were having lunch one time and our waitress ACTUALLY ASKED HIM if he was Tommy Lee Jones. It was bizarre. Other, normal members of the human race think he resembles Mike Lowell.

10:10 - Best Actress Award. I knew nothing about Marion Cotillard before tonight, but now I adore her. Not the mermaid dress so much, but she's French, they can get away with that. Cutey speech, too.

10:18 - It was sort of strange that they came back from commercial to Jon Stewart and the August Rush singing girl playing Wii Tennis. Was this product placement? Or did the writesr burn out before they edited this segment? Oh Jesus, another fucking song. Hey! Is Colin Farrel talking about the song from Once? I loved that movie! And all the songs! Are they going to perform? Yay! And who don't I have a massive crush on? Because Glen Hansard? I love him. You know what? I'm going to put the wine down for a little bit.

10:25 - Best Picture Montage. I have seen exactly 26 of the Best Pictures. Out of 79. I feel like I should have seen more. But there are some movies I am just never going to see. Like Lord of the Rings. Oh, get over it.

10:32 - I hate Nicole Kidman. I have to say that before I admit that she is wearing the most gorgeous necklace I have ever seen. Now, I will repeat: I hate Nicole Kidman.

The Honorary Oscar Presentation. Dude - Robert Goyle looks INCREDIBLE for 98. 98! He came out wearing a towel like Rocky, and then spouted nonsense for five minutes. Do your thing old man! 98! This might wind up as my favorite moment of the whole night.

10:45 - ANOTHER song from Enchanted? Really? Hey look! John Travolta! Oh my God! Why is he dancing to this crap? Ah, because he's going to announce the winner. If the song from Once doesn't win...Yay! It wins! And Glen Hansard told everyone to make art and I totally love him and I almost cried a little. Shit, how did this wine glass get back in my hand?

10:58 - Cameron Diaz has my favorite dress of the night.

11:00 - I got hungry here and prowled around the kitchen for a while and missed the people-who-died montage. Ok, I did it on purpose. That shit makes me cry.

11:26 - Best Original Screenplay. Diablo Cody's badass Betty Rubble dress rocked...and her near breakdown was adorable. Look at all these people with emotions tonight! Emotions and pale skin! It's all very deconstructed this evening.

Yes, I need to see Juno, too. I told you! I wait till shit comes out on HBO! It costs at least $10 to see a movie in Boston, and I can never decide which one to see, and I get thirsty or have to pee at least once, and I can never find my seat again, never mind the correct screening room - one time I left to find the bathroom and somehow used an exit that deposited me directly INTO THE PARKING LOT. It took me forever to figure out how to get back into the building. Movie theatres are stressful. Plus, I am a girl who is taking notes during the damn Oscars. I am easily distracted. I like possessing the ability to rewind.

11:30 - Best Actor. I'm actually loving the retrospectives. But I can't even see a clip from Philadelphia without tearing up, so I'm already misting a little when Helen Mirren takes the stage. Weird dress, but she's the shit. Obviously, I am rooting for George Clooney, but everyone says Daniel Day Lewis is going to win. DDL's my Dad's number one man-crush, though, so I'm not mad at him. And he wins! Look at his crazy old school suit! He bows for Helen Mirren! I am so, so charmed by his crazy ass. I know he's supposed to be this super intense method acting nutcase, but his speech was sweet and humble...so charmed. He's a real artist. Make art!

11:41 - Best Picture. Hey! Denzel! My Momma (who is the truth, as mommas go) has loved three men in her life, that I'm aware of: my Daddy, Peter Jennings, and Denzel Washington. As such, I have similar feelings of warmth. Man, I really need to see No Country for Old Men.

Hey, its over? Cool. I'd like to thank my parents and their non-Tommy Lee Jones-resembling, Denzel-loving, pale-small-chested-child producing asses; my brother, the other pale flat chested relative I love; and my dog, whose studded collar was the best accessory of the night.