The Oscars

I watched the Oscars the other night.

Actresses are still wearing those strapless dresses. I guess they flatter the boob implants.

I read somewhere that it was shocking how the cameras cut to Anjelique Jolie (or whatever her name is) when Jenn-Jenn Aniston was on stage. Why would that be shocking? Two actresses that America has an unhealthy obsession with...and they are getting older in a career that punishes the aged. Those two need all the media coverage they can get. And Arm Pitt is no one to fight over. Just my opinion. I've seen better looking homeless dudes. But I live in California. 'Nuff said.

The other moment that I found interesting (for lack of a better word) was when Sean Penn accepted his award for some movie he was in. I wasn't really paying that much attention and I didn't see the movie he was in. But I could have sworn the move was called "MILF"...now doesn't MILF stand for "Mother I'd like to F***"? And why would Sean Penn star in a movie about that? As far as I can tell he isn't anyone's mother...but who knows...

All that I could think of, as I watched him accept his award and rant on and on about something (no, I wasn't paying close attention) was about this newspaper article I read awhile back. Apparently, Sean Penn and his wife, Robin Wright Penn, went up to Reno and rented a hotel room (according to the article). Sean insisted on his own room. Because he wanted to f*** 2 Russian models. He talked his downtrodden wife into the separate rooms, but apparently wasn't clear about why he needed this separate room. Poor wifey walks in on drunk Sean in a hot tub with 2 hottie Russian models, according to this article I read. It was kinda sad. She filed for divorce, realized he had all the cash and she was an aging actress with no career prospects, and they (miracle of miracles!) reconciled.

Anyway, the whole time he was ranting, I kept thinking about the above article. And how, when Sean was married to Madonna (years and years and years ago), another article said he tied her up like a turkey, went out for the evening and didn't come back to untie her until he'd gotten his groove on later that night. She filed for divorce.

I don't think he makes an ideal husband.

Other than that, it was Slumdog Millionaire all the way. Even Hollywood is predictable.

The Secret Diary of a Call Girl

So, I was walking down an aisle in Target about a month ago when I heard 2 women talking.

"Oh, there's that series, "Secret Diary of a Call Girl", a middle-aged woman exclaimed to her younger friend.

"That's a great show!" she twittered on about. I was looking for something, so I couldn't listen any further, but I took note of the conversation.

You see, I have Netflix, and I'm always on the lookout for a good show to rent.

This sounded promising. I pictured an English, lurid version "Sex and the City". Honestly, I really did.

What did I get? Well, I just got the first disc this week.

Let's just say, only the English could make even sex boring!

I couldn't believe it. It's horrid. It actually makes celibacy look really, really good.

HGTV

I love HGTV.

I love watching House Hunters and Design on a Dime and Designed to Sell and What is it worth and Colorsplash and Landscape Design and Property Virgins..and, well, you might get the idea that all I do is watch tv. Currently, you would be right. I'm trying to get over a cold (again...this school year I've had more colds than ever) and I don't like socializing when sick.

Plus, before the cold hits full force, I have a hard time producing things or working on anything. Now that the cold is here, I'm actually more effective. I know that an end is in sight.

But what I like about these shows is the potential, the promise. If I were to move to ho-dunk small town nowhere ville, I wouldn't have neighbors sitting on top of me, my job would probably be less stressful, I could have half a dozen animals and my cost of living would be minimal. Oh! and I could buy a house in all cash, with no mortgage. Yeah, that sounds great!