The Cure For Insomnia!
Honestly, could this show get any worse? I generally only tune in to see what the women are wearing but occasionally I flip the channel back over and am immediately overwhelmed by a tsunami of YAWN. Doctors should make their patients watch the Oscars instead of giving them pain killers or amyl nitrate poppers before surgery. (They do that, right? If not, just don’t tell me. I’ve had enough heartbreak in my life.) 10 minutes of Oscars = COMA TIME.
There you go, President Obama. Health care crisis SOLVED! Next time you have any drug related issues, ask a stoner. They are full of good information. That and THC.
But back to the Oscars. I hate to say it but WTF happened to Billy Crystal? I know that as people age, they tend to gain weight but ONLY IN YOUR FACE? For a minute I thought they got this guy to host the damn thing.
Yeah, I was drunk. Why do you ask?
Back to the fashion. Another layer of boredom was dropped on me when I realized there were really no bad dresses. I mean yeah, some were worse than others but this year there was no swan dress, no psychedelic tunics and no shoulder apparatus that looked like a vagina. Talk about disappointing!
Seems the attendees were just as bored as me. Just look at Maria Sharapova:
I totally have this nightgown in peach.
This is apparently the youngest Olsen sister. Why their parents didn’t stop after the Trolls, I have no idea but here is Elizabeth Olsen wearing a long black t-shirt. zzzzzz……..
Here is Charlene Wittstock, a young woman who was pretty much forced at gunpoint to marry Prince Albert of Monaco.
I guess things have gotten better, because doesn’t she look HAPPY? Her posture may say “royal princess” but her eyes are saying “please oh please throw me in the back of your Kia Sera and let’s haul fucking ass away from this toad.”
This is what my mother would have worn to my wedding. If I had one. Which I didn’t because I knew she would wear this freaking dress.
One thing that’s improving at the Oscars is tolerance. Nowadays, people from all walks of life are invited. Look, here’s one of the undead!
All right, I’ve had my fun but I’m not the meanest ho in the parking lot. I actually loved one dress and here it is:
Oh hellz yes. This is exactly what I would wear if I could afford it. And were invited. And were, you know, not drunk. And…well you get the idea. She even has my hair! Wait, I was just loving on her and now all I have to say is, “Jessica Chastain, are you copying my imaginary badass self? Because I swear to Johnny Thunders, if you start showing up at shithole bars in Dallas drunk on red wine and wearing too much makeup, I will totally follow you to the bathroom and pull your hair. Live in fear.”