Everyone is NORML

Photo: How in the world could Ryan Seacrest be gay? I think the answer might be: easily.

I've been combing through my Livejournal blog, trying to find a post that I desperately need but did not tag; it's not an effective way to search, since all I do is re-live every moment by reading every post. I've also been going through my other accounts, like Myspace, Xanga, Facebook, Meetup, and Vox. There are some noteworthy one-liners throughout all of them, but I enjoyed my Ode to the Oscars '06 List enough that I'm re-posting here. Enjoy!

March 4, 2006

OSCAR...A Whole Lotta Man in Just One Night (or, Why I'm Watching the Oscars with Girlish Glee!):

1. Jon Stewart, host. That deadpan, Jewish motherfucker is going to entertain me in ways that I can only dream of; he'd better bring it. Previous hosts include Chris Rock, Steve Martin, Whoopi Goldberg, and Billy Crystal, who regaled us with song-and-dance medleys that celebrated each cinematic triumph of the human spirit; during these slapstick dance numbers, I usually died a little on the inside. Tonight, one can only hope for fantastic choreographed tap dancing, complete with showgirls and snow leopards, where we are dazzled by all of the senseless deaths in 'The Constant Gardener' and 'Munich'. Nothing says "musical entertainment" quite like two gay cowboys and Johnny Cash.

2. The Lifetime Achievement Award. Finally, this award is going to someone over the age of 60. Robert Altman will probably be remembered for the TV series M*A*S*H, but I will remember him for being on the advisory board of NORML (the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws), being voted the 17th Best Director of All Time by Entertainment Weekly (oooh, the honors!), and for spawning a son who wrote the lyrics to the M*A*S*H theme song, "Suicide is Painless", when he was just 14 years old. No issues in that household.

3. Goodbye to the Deceased Unknowns. Every year, people die. More importantly, celebrities die. When a celebrity passes, the whole world must watch in sorrow as the famously deceased receive their last 2.5 seconds of detached recognition...and we insignificant subhumans are allowed one last, tearless goodbye. Unfortunately, this section of the program includes not only actors, actresses, directors and producers, but a whole slew of non-essential nobodies from the movie set as well. As your tears well up over Don Knotts' heavenly departure, you will be robbed of your grief by another photo, this one of Barry Felcher, Second Grip Assistant. R.I.P., Barry.

4. Fashion, and how! Red carpet moments make my life worth living. Not only will Star Jones be there in her newly gastric-bypassed glory, she'll also show up with her amusing gay entourage--or as she calls him, "my husband Al". One onscreen moment with her equals enough material to headline a comedy show in Vegas. The gowns, the couture, the vastly expensive and cheap-looking bling, the beautifully plasticized women and their equally overtanned mantoys...it's spectacular. If fashion is eye candy, then fashion faux pas are a goddamn Willie Wonka factory, Augustus Gloop and all. I'm hungry.

5. Lord of the Gays. For those of you who love Ryan Seacrest, do me a favor and sterilize yourself now. When he says "Seacrest out!", he means that he's a super-poof trying desperately to stay locked in the closet with Tom Cruise. The newly-minted host of E! Entertainment News starts his post on March 13th, which means we have 8 days of glorious silence to prepare for his arrival from the Mothership to Planet Earth. While he may be on the red carpet tomorrow night, I'm hoping he comes down with a serious case of hickory-smoked butthole. If he happens to be absent from Oscar's big shmoozeroo, then my life will become more meaningful in a nanosecond. He is a massive tool.

6. Oscar speeches, the ugly ones. Nothing is better than when a big-name celebrity wins an award, graciously walks to the podium in their finest threads, and makes an Oscar speech equivalent to Greg Louganis doing a bellyflop at the Olympics. The speeches that are painfully funny to watch are when unprepared celebrities: trip, fall, cry, shake, breathe into the mic too hard, run over their time, thank four million people, drone on in a monotone, forget their loved ones, say thank you and walk off, come prepared with a politically-charged rant about Indians or weapons-of-mass-destruction, say "Wow! I never thought this would happen!", or prattle off a long and windy religious piece of bullhonky to God and Jesus Christ, their personal Lord and Savior. I'm cool with God, but He's probably not watching the Oscars; hopefully He's saving the children or something, not checking out your ass in a ten thousand dollar dress made by nimble 6-year old fingers in Thailand.

7. Seat-fillers. I like to try and ferret them out, like an upscale reality version of Where's Waldo? I can usually tell with the women. The female seat-fillers look like cheap and shiny advertisements for the surface benefits of L.A. Their shared features include blond highlights, big fake tits, and a low-cut, sparkly gown to attract the single celebrity males as if they were deep in the Amazon jungle. They wave those flashy beaded funbags around and momentarily stun the single male into confusion, stalking him like wounded prey--by the time he comes to, they're already divorced and she's taken half his loot. Ah, the sanctity of California marriage laws.

8. Animated Feature and Documentary Feature. This year, these categories are hot, hot, hot! Usually no one has even heard of these films or there is just one standout in a crowd of nobodies. This year--oh, the possibilities! I've seen every one of these films and not just because I'm a broke and boring homebody. They. Are. All. Good. It's a battle of wits, raw emotion, street smarts and handicrappers. Plus, Wallace and Gromit. If you haven't seen any of the films nominated, consider yourself a loser.

9. Soundtracks from the motion picture. There are always performances of songs made especially for the Oscar-nominated movies. The performances are few and far between, and for some reason, always involve Sting or Randy Newman. It seems almost sad to have an entire category consist of two, maybe three songs. It's a lose-lose situation. If you win, you only won over 2 other yahoos. If you lose, you feel like a first-class idiot for losing in such a barren category. The songs are always cheesy and usually made for an "EPIC" film (Hello, Lord of the Rings) or a kid movie (Monsters, Inc. anyone?). It's annoying to see a song for kids performed by a sweaty, overweight, middle-aged man who needs a haircut; this 'everyman' is usually playing his choppy tune with all the eagerness and gusto that I imagine Beethoven employed during his 9th symphony.

10. "It's just an honor to be nominated!" It's tired cliches like these that keep me coming back for more. Every nominee says it and about one percent of them mean it. "Do you want to win tonight?"--Joan Rivers will ask through her surgically implanted mouth. "OOOH, it's just an honor to be nominated!" Sometimes, if they've already won an Oscar (and can afford to be generous) or they're brand new to the scene (and can't afford to be ungrateful), they'll add to that sentence, "...among such talented and amazing women that I totally look up to!" Like I'm supposed to believe in the newfound humility of a starlet filled to the brim with tranquilizers and leftover coke from the limo. Bitch, please.

Seacrest out!

***Added: My son saw this photo and here was our conversation:

Oren: Ryan Seacrest!
Me: Oh, you know him?
Oren: (makes a face) Yeah.
Me: What do you think?
Oren: He is NOT attractive.
Me: Oh, really.
Oren: He's, like, GAY. Not gay-gay, just...gay.
Me: Actually, I think he's gay-gay.
Oren: I wouldn't date him.