Okay, so here’s how I won the Oscar Pool for the second year in a row. I didn’t bet the list I’d made for my column here. Just moments before the award show began, and after hours of watching Joan toss it to Melissa, I jotted down who I thought would win. Not who I thought should win, not who I’d heard would win, but who I thought would win. I beat out my friends and managed to make notes along the way. Now I’ll share them with you.
Pre-show’s best moment was seeing Joan kiss the ass of the new E! CEO. Worst, was hearing her say, “It’s great to see the Asians here.” It’s like she’s at a party, going, “Oh, look, there’s the Goldsteins. Oh, and the Johnsons came. Oh, and I’m so glad the Asians made it.” What an idiot!
E! had this thing going called a Sizzle Meter, and you could go online and rank whomever Joan was interviewing. It was in poor taste to leave the graphic up when Sting’s final score was revealed (a 2 on a scale of 1 to 10).
I do want to thank Joan Rivers for wearing a dress with netting across her back. Since the camera angle takes in more of her back than anything else, I think I speak for everyone when I say thank you for covering that skin well.
Winona Ryder… what were you thinking? Your hair’s a mess, your eyes are all black and smudged… oh, I get it, she’d just watched “Edward Scissorhands” and got all nostalgic.
I’m very glad to know that Ellen Burstyn won the Independent Spirit Award Saturday night. That makes it okay that she didn’t get the Oscar.
Kate Hudson and Chris Robinson… what a cute couple! They did Goldie and Kurt proud.
I saw Siguorney Weaver autographing someone’s bottled water. That was sweet. Loved her dress. She actually looked quite classy… for an old broad.
Speaking of old broads, Judi Dench was just gorgeous. You go, girl!
On the red carpet, I’d said, “Oh, thank God Jennifer Lopez covered up her breasts with this dress. Then I saw the twins. Now I know what J-Lo stands for.
My epiphany of the night: I live my life like an interviewer on the red carpet. I’m listening to you. I’m asking (somewhat) intelligent questions. I’m right there with you. But I’m constantly looking just over your shoulder, in case someone better is coming up the path. Now, that’s deep.
Um, Juliette Binoche, uh, Madonna overdid the pearl thing in the mid-80s. And what bad hair! Matched only by those scary gloves. Wow! What a fashion don’t!
Marcia Gay Harden – gorgeous! And right behind her, there’s Joaquin Phoenix, jumping up to give high-fives to the folks in the bleachers. Pretty cool. I feel really bad for the stars who start arriving at 3pm. But, the chaos at 4:50pm is way too much. I wonder if they could have the actors take numbers, like at a deli, and arrive in that order. Sounds fair to me!
Okay, James Coburn, are you doing your own private tribute to “Shadow of the Vampire” or do you just want to look worse than your tin-foil wrapped wife?
Angelina Jolie looked great. She dressed like a grown-up and she left Billy Bob and her brother at home.
Faye Dunaway, on whom I usually bag, looked great. Good for her! But Frances McDormand, put on some makeup when you go to the Oscars, for God’s sake!
Willem Dafoe is such a cutie pie. Casey and I watched “Wild at Heart” Saturday night, so I’m in a good mood toward him even more than when I wrote up my predictions.
Ashley Judd with some bad hair — oh, man, she got dressed with Juliette Binoche!
I liked how unflappable the older stars were, when interviewed by various media types. Morgan Freeman, Anthony Hopkins, just too cool.
Chris Connally? Who knew you could go from being on MTV to landing a big gig on… oh, wait, it’s just ABC. Never mind. Lateral move.
Julia and Benjamin are a royal couple. Wow. They just look like movie stars. Casey tells me a story about seeing Ben and his brothers in a head shop in San Francisco last Christmas Eve. Then he asks me to edit the story so that it’s clear the head shop is also a place to buy hippie bracelets and hats and things. So there.
The awards begin. Steve’s already cracking me up. I’m sorry, but Russell Crowe is still a dang sourpuss. Get a sense of humor! Steve Martin is funny!
Oh, here’s that Pepsi commercial everyone is talking about. The consensus at the party is that every girl under 16 will now want her navel pierced just like Britney. Oy vey!
Okay, what’s the facial hair thing? Ben Stiller, you’re at the Oscars, wash your face! Leni tells me it’s cool, it’s indie, it’s rebellious. Whatever, it’s unshaven Ben. Clean it up and comb your hair while you’re at it.
Sting looks like Celine Dion whilst he sings. Have we gotten that old?
Dustin Hoffman, is that a rug on your head? If so, can’t you afford better?
Sarah Jessica Parker, for the first time, has lovely hair. I’ve always bagged on her stringy hair. Now, instead, I’ll bag on her dress. It was fine, but where was the rest of it? This ain’t HBO, sweetheart. Cover up those bowlegs.
Next Pepsi commercial. As a stockholder in the Coca-Cola company, I must protest the idea that people who work for Coke would ever drink Pepsi. It’s just not true. People who work for Coke have been brainwashed since birth and will burst into flames with just one sip of that Pepsi swill. Pepsi, stick to making tacos and chicken and pizza and leave the beverage market to the professionals. Of course, I don’t even drink soda, but I still have a vested interest, dammit!
Bob Dole makes a comment to his dog, upon seeing Britney, “Easy boy!” Leni suggests he’s talking to his Viagra-assisted penis and not to the dog. We laugh about this for the rest of the commercial break.
Oh, shit, I didn’t know Billy Barty died. He was so great in “Foul Play.”
Augh! Another Ben with a micro-beard. The worst part of it is, they work to get their facial hair to look like that. What a waste!
We notice that Jennifer Lopez is in a camera shot that crops her tighter than other presenters. Hmm… why is that? Leni comes up with another quip: “Elvis’ hips, J-Lo’s nips!” More laughter.
Casey deduces that Danny DeVito wants better eyesight, since he’s wearing shades and eating carrot sticks. We’re an intellectual group at this Oscar party, lemme tell ya.
Hillary Swank! Oh my God, where did those boobs come from? And those hips? We decide she’s pregnant. I’d bet money on it!
Russell Crowe wins? Oh, shit, I didn’t take into account the fact that he should’ve won last year for “The Insider.” Oh, they were feeling bad. I totally didn’t add that fact into the mix. Oh well, at least I still won the pool.
Thank you, Julie Andrews, for having had no work done. It’s so nice to see a woman look her age. Especially in this town!
Okay, Paul Newman could be 100 and I’d do him in a heartbeat. He’s just that damn sexy.
Casey makes a comment here about how a Hollywood exec can make a producer feel “like he’s got an endless supply of jelly beans in his underwear.” No one knows what this means, but Casey made guacamole, so we think it’s brilliant (or maybe it’s because we had cheap wine).
I’m so proud of my fellow Georgia gal, Julia, for showing all those teeth and being giddy and happy. We southern belles know how to share our joy!
The screenplay adapter from “Traffic” looks like David E. Kelley, no?
Oh, I’m so glad I was wrong about the Best Director winner. Go, Steven! That’s a well-deserved win.
Look at those “Gladiator” producers. That’s a bunch of rich, white, impotent republicans if I ever saw any. They were financiers, not artists! Boo, hiss!
Considering only 5600 voters make up the Academy, I’m surprised there weren’t more surprises. Okay, so besides the fact that the night ended with a big downer on Best Picture, I still collected my money with the proper amount of gloating, promising to continue my streak at next year’s Oscar party, wherever that may be. Of course, it is my intention to attend an Oscar party thrown by the studio who put out my next film. That may put a cramp in my betting, but I bet it’ll be a hell of a lot more fun to be catty about everyone else when I’ve got my own dose coming up from Joan and Missy. Do you think I can pull off wearing jeans?