anonymouse

I turned in my Oscar pool sheet yesterday. I'm going to Byron's Annual Big Gay Oscar Party. I want to know what will be in the gift basket this year. In 2000, it was Scharffen-Berger chocolates, butt plugs, paper panties, and toilet paper with Russell Crowe's face printed on it. That was pretty neat. In 2001, it was water pistols, fake poop, a "Snaps!" book from the early '90s, and a wheel of Rochefort cheese. In 2002, the gift basket included a copy of The Velvet Goldmine soundtrack, Russell Crowe's face printed on toilet paper again, a picture of Ewan McGregor making out with Jonathan Michael-Rhys, a picture of a naked Ewan McGregor, and tampons. I don't know. Sometimes he goes nuts.

I know I'm going to lose a ton of money because I vote for who I want to win. It's like positive thinking. I'm hoping for some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, I guess. Here are the people I want to win and put down on my Oscar pool ballot, and I also included the people who will probably win instead:

Best Supporting Actress: Meryl Streep, because she's the Meryl Streep of Acting. But she's been in a slump lately. I think they'll give it to Julianne Whore instead. I mean, Moore. No, I like her, it's just... She was nominated twice for playing the same role in two different movies. But... They might give it to Catherine Zeta-Jones, and it would be funny if she went up on stage and said, "Freeze! Catherine Zeta-Jones is accepting an Oscar, but her manwhore of a husband couldn't make it because he's boning Lara Flynn Boyle. Looks like she could use a T-mobile cell phone to broadcast her acceptance speech to his ear." That would RULE. Except I don't like Catherine Zeta-Jones.

Best Supporting Actor: I really want Chris Cooper to win. He was so good in that role, and you know what? I've actually met John Laroche, and his performance isn't that exaggerated by much. I think they will actually give it to Chris Cooper. Come on, I can't loose all of my money!

Best Actor: Oh my god! Daniel Day-Lewis! Obviously! With the eye! And the hat! And the eye! And the mustache! And the eye! And the sexiness! And the he needs to put his wang inside me now! They're going to give it to Jack Nicholson though, and it will be worth it if Lara Flynn Boyle is in the audience, and they show her reaction. I hope she wears a tutu again. You know, she wore a tutu because Jack Nicholson fucked a "dancer," except she wasn't that kind of dancer. She was a stripper. Not a ballerina. Yeah.

Best Actress: I want to give this one to Salma Hayek and her boobs. She deserves it, and not just because she has flawless boobs. Because she gave a flawless performance. There's a chance they'll give it to Nicole Kidman, but I think The Academy is likely to bestow the Oscar upon Chipmunk Face -- I mean, Rene Zellweger. She's not a bad actress, Zellweger. I liked her in Bridget Jones' Diary and Nurse Betty, but... She's not a very good actress, either. I think there's a good chance Chicago will sweep The Oscars, though.

Best Director: Okay. Come on. Give Marty a break. It's not his best movie, by far, but The Academy has snubbed Scorscese sooo many times. It's not even funny. He's deserving of a statue, okay, if not for Gangs, then for his body of work. And if you don't give him an Oscar this year, then you better give him a Lifetime Achievement Award somewhere down the line, assholes. I'm positive they're going to give it to Rob Marshall, though, because apparently he's some crazy alien god from another planet or something. I don't know.

Best Picture: I put down Gangs of New York, even though it was flawed. I believe that you have to give the Oscar to the movie that the Best Director directed. It's a law. Or should be. Therefore, Chicago will probably win. Dag, yo. I said it before in this journal, and I'll say it again: Richard Gere can't tap dance. I don't know if it's because of the rodents up his ass. Oh. That urban legend reference wasn't totally uncalled for, was it?

So. Chicago sweeps The Oscars. That's my prediction. Coincidentally, I'm currently reading Devil in the White City. I've been busy catching up with my studies. I should've been done with it by now. In case you don't know, "White City" refers to the Columbian Exposition or the Chicago World's Fair -- it's called the "White City" because all of the buildings were painted white. The book switches back and forth between telling the story of the World's Fair and the story of the serial killer Henry H. Holmes. I'm currently on a chapter entitled "Dreadful Things Done By Girls." And if you know me, you'll know that this will be the title of my band's Platinum album. I don't have a band, of course, but if I do... WATCH OUT, THE DONNAS! WE WILL KICK YOUR ASSES! Yeah. The "dreadful things done by girls" is a paraphrased from a quote from a Madam named Chicago May: "What dreadful things were done by some of the girls! It always made me sick even to think of them. The mere mention of the details of some of the 'circuses' is unprintable. I think Rome at its worst had nothing on Chicago during those lurid days." It's an exciting read.

Back to the Oscars party: Byron's got his knickers in a knot over the red carpet, or lack thereof. A big part of the night involves sitting around the TV for hours watching Joan and Melissa Rivers on E! We like Joan. We're not so fond of Melissa, but Joan's a funny gal. She paved the way for comediennes, and that's okay by me since I wanted to be a comedienne when I was a little girl. So the celebration will start at 6 pm. We're all rather curious as to what Joan and Melissa will do since it was just released that no interviews will take place. That's no fun. In these turbulent times, we need frothy fun. And alliteration, too. C'mon.

One last thing: There have been requests for Wet's mp3s and lyrics to the songs on the demo. I don't think I'll upload any mp3s. I have a very punk rock voice, which is to say that it is simultaneously sharp and flat. I didn't think it was possible until I started singing, but woah. It's... not a pleasant aural experience. I will post some lyrics tomorrow, though. Until then, here is the chorus to "Picking Up Chicks at Abortion Clinics":

Pickin' up chicks at abortion clinics
I think I might have a chance
Pickin' up chicks at abortion clinics
May I please have this dance?

Ha ha. Go ahead, send me hate mail.

Please continue sending me pictures of your wangs. My goal is to see more wang than I saw during my years at Miami Killian Senior High Jazz Band Camp and class combined. Seriously. Kids used "piercings" as an excuse to show off their dicks, but... I don't know. I'm just telling you, I haven't seen half the wang I saw at Band Camp.

Oh god. I know at least one of you is thinking of posting, "And one time, at band camp, [fill in the blank]." Don't lie.