I have encountered a significant hurdle or two in my Oscar quest.
It's not that I haven't seen all the movies. I haven't, of course, but I've seen a lot, most recently Cars, which did not suck as badly as I thought. Monday was a three-movie day: Volver, Water (fabulous, and would be a winner in a year without Pan's Labyrinth), Marie Antoinette. Tuesday was Inconvenient Truth. Today is a girl-date for Dreamgirls, playing at the last theater in town. If I can stomach it, I'll squeeze in United 93 this evening. Saturday should have time for Half Nelson and The Departed. Let's just say, I've been getting plenty of knitting done in front of the television set.
Hurdle number one involves my hair. One cannot go to the Oscars with boring hair. I was absent from school though on the day they taught us girls how to do our hair. The stylists who best get fabulous party hair, African-American beauty salons, tend to be closed on Sundays for churching. I run into the problem every year. Depending on the dress I choose, I either will or will not spring for a stylist.
The bigger problem is that I had some blood drawn yesterday and the aide who drew the blood dropped the cotton ball just as she was finishing. She had to turn around, reach over to the counter, and find another one, all the while with the needle still in my arm. The word "bruise" doesn't even really begin to cover the situation here. It's unbelievably ugly. It's probably best that I had trouble with the photo and only got a blurry picture. It looks like someone colored on my arm with a burgundy Sharpie and is sure to look worse by Sunday.
It's not that I haven't seen all the movies. I haven't, of course, but I've seen a lot, most recently Cars, which did not suck as badly as I thought. Monday was a three-movie day: Volver, Water (fabulous, and would be a winner in a year without Pan's Labyrinth), Marie Antoinette. Tuesday was Inconvenient Truth. Today is a girl-date for Dreamgirls, playing at the last theater in town. If I can stomach it, I'll squeeze in United 93 this evening. Saturday should have time for Half Nelson and The Departed. Let's just say, I've been getting plenty of knitting done in front of the television set.Hurdle number one involves my hair. One cannot go to the Oscars with boring hair. I was absent from school though on the day they taught us girls how to do our hair. The stylists who best get fabulous party hair, African-American beauty salons, tend to be closed on Sundays for churching. I run into the problem every year. Depending on the dress I choose, I either will or will not spring for a stylist.
The bigger problem is that I had some blood drawn yesterday and the aide who drew the blood dropped the cotton ball just as she was finishing. She had to turn around, reach over to the counter, and find another one, all the while with the needle still in my arm. The word "bruise" doesn't even really begin to cover the situation here. It's unbelievably ugly. It's probably best that I had trouble with the photo and only got a blurry picture. It looks like someone colored on my arm with a burgundy Sharpie and is sure to look worse by Sunday.
Dress choices thus become very difficult. Now, not only must I find a dress that fits over my hips and doesn't accentuate any back fat, I need one that covers my arms to the wrist as well.
Jesus.
While I could hope to end up looking like this,
I'm more likely to end up like this.
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