Post-Oscar Thoughts

Sir Knavely had a grand time at the Annual Oscar Party.  Then he then promptly went off food for two days.  I swear, the child is worse than a college student on spring break.

The rest of the guests seemed to enjoy themselves though.  They brought snacks that included shrimp, nachos, tacos, sushi, pasta salad, and pretzels.  I made my own brand of strawberry mikshakes.  Yeah.  Good food.  No highbrow approach for us.  Good food.  That's what it was about.  Oh yeah, good movies, too.  Last year, that is.

Yes, yes.  We avoided merlot in honor of Miles, sticking to pinot noir.  But in spite of our best efforts, Sideways failed to capture the bacon.  Or many little golden men.

Million Dollar Baby?  What's up with that?  How could Clint Eastwood win?  Maybe last year, but this year?  And it's not that I have anything against Dirty Harry:  I admire his directing style, and I love Mystic River.  But Million Dollar Baby?  The film didn't deserve the credit it got.  Want me to prove it?  Okay, think about this.  I was really moved by Million Dollar Baby when I saw the trailer.  Moved to tears, for god's sake.

And then I saw the film.  Didn't much like it. 

Of course, I wasn't on the same mission that Hollywood Steve was the other night.  He would have set up bleachers from which he could boo every time MDB won.  I had to disallow this idea.  So he contented himself with wild, angry cries whenever Million Dollar Baby took home an Oscar. 

This year, with my third annual Oscar Party, I discovered that Sir Knavely has superb taste.  As I sat there in my easy chair watching the Oscars, Sir K joined me, stretching his lanky body out across my legs, watching the screen.  He had opinions.  He liked Chris Rock, for instance, and he watched him with interest.  Otherwise, he just looked around while people talked, or else he napped.

I should mention that Sir K quickly got bored watching Beyonce.  She didn't quite make his rigorous cut.  Too bad the Academy decided to use her for THREE of the four songs.  Now that must have been embarrassing for poor Beyonce.  Imagine.  When Sir Knavely disses you, I imagine can just forget about having a future in showbiz.  At least in Sir Knavely's world, that is.

NOTE:  If you've wondered why it took me this long to review my own Oscar party, you should know that I've been writing grades.  Remember?  I'm a teacher too.  It appears now that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  Let's hope it's not just a fast train.