THE OSCARS.

Last night, since it's been a few years, I went to a friends and watched the Oscars. Yes, I attended an Oscar party. No, I did not bring a manfriend (Clint was in LA, ha-ha, shut up). I wanted to give the Academy Awards another chance. There's so much hype and people get all excited about it, so I figured perhaps my belief that the Oscars were a self-serving load of bullshit propagated by Hollywood to make itself feel even more famous was wrong. Maybe they're entertaining and funny.

With an open mind, I nabbed a two-litre of Hawaiian Punch and trudged through the falling snowball snow to the home of our gracious host. There was a good crowd on hand and they were already well into their Oscar night (I didn't get there until around 9:30), complete with Oscar prediction sheets, caramel corn and sushi. Luckily, many of the folks in attendance were my friends, which allowed me to talk with people while the torturously slow and dull ceremony dragged on. It seems my previous feelings were correct: that little statue must be limber, because the Oscar sucks his own dick.

First, applause for choosing Ellen to host the show. While I've never been a huge fan, Ellen is second only to Oprah when it comes to female talk-showish hosts that women and gay guys are addicted to. She fell out of favor awhile ago when she came out, so Hollywood was saying "sorry Ellen, we think it's okay now, you can host our show." How very PC of the Academy. But from what I saw, she only did one funny thing, which was to give Scorsese a script. Which opened the door for Clint Eastwood to quip, “where’s my script? I saw you give one to Marty. Now my feelings are hurt.” Both funny moments.

But everything else was fairly awful. Mainly, the Academy's obsession with montages. The foreign film montage, the “people who died” montage, the “movie this bitch worked on” montage, the “how writers are portrayed in movies” montage. Enough already. You're Hollywood. You're telling me that for your biggest award show you can't come up with something more original than cutting together old footage to music? The only cool thing that they did was hire the acrobats from that car commercial to make shapes—notably the one for Little Miss Sunshine. The best part of the entire night was when some foreign lady referred to her Oscar as "this doll." That, my friends, is comedy.

Anyways, it turns out that I don't care that much about the Academy Awards after all. I care enough to read the list of who won for best picture, best actor, etc. But to sit for five hours and watch that jackass Chris Connelly interview people backstage? Nah. I think next year I'll sit at home and read a book. Or maybe I'll do some stretching and try to suck my dick instead of watching Hollywood suck its own.