Oscar outrage.

Things I do religiously that are evidence that I'm a pop culture whore:

1. Read the annual "Best and Worst Dressed" issue of People magazine
2. Read the annual "Most Beautiful People" issue of People magazine
3. Read all manner of trash fashion magazines
4. Watch--and, what's more, care about--the Academy Awards.

There was much anticipation in the megastore basement tonight, as children, spouses, aunts, cousins, and dogs gathered around the family television to watch the Oscars. The evening, however, was fraught with difficulties and obstacles. First of all, we thought that the broadcast started at 7 p.m., like any civilized major event, but no, it started at 6 p.m. That meant that all the food preparation I had intended to do in 1.5 hours needed to be done in .5 hours. That's 30 minutes, and it included making brownies. Luckily, the technologically enhanced youngest son saved the day by reminding us that we could Digital Video Record, aka DVR, it, which was genius, because it also meant that we could fast forward through the commercials.

Bruiser made himself a nuisance, sorry to say, by expressing his insistent opinion that he should be able to eat off everyone's plates. He managed to snag whole slices of buttered bread and a brownie before the evening was through. Otherwise, he was engaged by having a hilarious, three hour sparring bout with a dachshund, the dog of my daughter and her husband. My children bickered throughout the broadcast about who was being most annoying (my vote: several way tie).

Then the DVR ended before the actual broadcast did--precisely as they were showing the Reese Witherspoon Best Actress clip. Somehow, apparently the DVR believed that the Oscars would be over in precisely 3 hours. Bastard DVR! In the chaos that ensued, several people shouted at the techno-genius son to get us back at the live broadcast and make it snappy, at which point he shouted, "Shut up all you mother f-ers!," which was the high point of the evening for my aunt, which is why I love her so. (For the record, he did say "f-ers," pronounced "effers." We have standards here.) We got back to the broadcast just in time to hear that Crash won for Best Picture. The horror.

It's all nonsense and bullshit, but I still watch it--laugh at the funny stuff, cringe at the crap, tear up at the sentimental stuff, feel moved by things like hearing Robert Altman talk about his life making films. I may, however, edit the guest list for next year. Note to self: I may want to enjoy my nonsense and bullshit in peace and quiet.