Because you can’t say anything about the Academy Awards without first identifying what you are wearing, I am in $5 gray sweatpants that my mom got in Chinatown, an ESPN football t-shirt that I bought in D.C., and the Target booties pictured below. I’m having a glass of Malbec with some dulce de membrillo and cheese. Now, with that out of the way, my random thoughts on what Oscar means to me:
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It’s an occasion to scare the bejeezus out of my sister when she thinks I’m watching the show and it turns out I am really just talking to her while I sleep (yes, I sleep talk). She doesn’t realize that she’s talking to a zombie until the next morning when I ask who won (truth be told, this last happened in the early 80s when “Terms of Endearment” won, but it’s a great Oscar memory);
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It’s an occasion to remember sitting next to Melanie Griffith at the Oscars in 2000 (I was a seat filler) and wondering about her age because her hands looked like chicken’s feet; and
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It’s an occasion to get all mad when some man who clearly looks under the influence takes the opportunity to get all overly touchy with some actress (i.e., Adrian Brody with Halle Berry a few years ago and Gary Busey with Jennifer Garner this year).
Good times.
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Would it help if you knew that I dream in Spanish and only have nightmares in English? That would mean that when we lived together it was always dreamy.
That Adrien Brody/Halle Berry moment is still creepy. These folks think so too.
Oh really? You sleep talk? Gee…I would never know:-) As your poor Enligh-only speaking college roommate, you forgot to mention that you sleep-talk in Spanish with the clear subconscious intention of not letting me undestand what you were saying.