Meanderings: March 22, 2000

Wednesday,
March 22, 2000

Just an advance word of warning, folks. I may not be posting regularly for a week or so -- there's been something of a family crisis back home (no deaths or hospital stays -- yet, she says ominously), and I'm going to Chicago on Friday to help out. If you don't see anything here for a couple of days, don't assume that I've dropped off the face of the earth or finally run off with that hareem of pool boys -- I'll be back.

Besides which, you know where to email me. Who's your poppa, huh? You betcha, baybee.

In a weird sort of way that's completely separate from the reason I'm going in the first place, I'm kind of pleased that I'll be in Chicago this weekend -- this way, I not only get to attend my nephew's 14th birthday party, but it also means that I can watch the Academy Awards live on Sunday night.

Of course, I can watch it live here, thanks to Sky One, but it won't be on until 2:00 am EST and would probably run through 6:00 am, which makes getting into work afterwards something of a bitch. Oh, don't get me wrong, I was planning to do it anyway -- I earned my title of Media Slut fairly and honestly, thankyouverymuch. But it is more fun to watch it at a somewhat more reasonable time.

The frightening thing is that so few of the nominees have made any sort of an impression on me. I haven't seen AMERICAN BEAUTY, THE INSIDER hasn't opened over here yet, and the only two acting nominees I can think of offhand are Annette Benning and Hilary Swank. Much as I hate to admit it, the real reason why I'm looking forward to this year's array of tack and glitz is one specific nominee for Best Song.

Yes, you know it. I want to see the production number for "Blame Canada!" I can only guess at how the Oscar team is going to tart this one up, but I can just see Bette Midler singing it in full costume as Mrs. Brotlofsky. But just think of the lost opportunities -- completely apart from the logistics of mounting "Uncle Fucker," (oh, get your minds out of the gutter, sweeties -- there's barely enough room for mine as it is), the Oscars would have been the perfect venue for "Vive La Resistance," "Up There," and Big Gay Al's showstopper, "I'm SUPER -- Thanks for Askin'!" complete with the final flash of Big Gay Al's Little Gay Al. Oooh, ooh, and they could've gotten Kevin Spacey to sing it and collect even more females set on rescuing him from his homosexuality!

Yes, I know -- the hair dye has finally affected my brain. I'll just go pack, then. . .

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