Oscar, Oscar

So I didn't watch the show last night, mostly because award shows are b-o-r-i-n-g, but also because it stings a bit to watch something you wanted to be a part of. And I don't mean in an abstract, "wouldn't it be cool..." way, but in a sincere, "might have had a chance..." way. Put it like this, I'm pretty sure one day I'll see people I know on the red carpet, and if circumstances had been a little different, it could have been me. Envy is a horrible emotion (sigh).
Anyway, I'm offering my critique on Oscar fashions because I often disagree with the fashionistas, and because I don't feel qualified to comment on the awards themselves having not seen any of the nominated (apart from Viggo's performance in Eastern Promises.)

Jessica Alba- I thought her flowy, purple number was gorgeous, very flattering for a pregnant person, and I liked the feather detail on the bosom. I also really liked her loose French-braid hairstyle.

Penelope Cruz- There was a lot of black this year, and while I liked her black feathery thing, last year's pink feathery thing was much prettier as well as being a bolder choice.

Renee Zellweger- What a sexy, sparkly gown! I loved the glittery stripes, the slit-to-there and the wicked shoes to go with. Just wish she didn't look so bone-thin, though.

Tilda Swinton- I LOVE Tilda! She is an amazing actress as well as a uniquely stunning person. Who else could pull off a performance piece called "Metamorphosis" that involved her sleeping on a mattress eight hours a day? That said, she needs some serious style advice. I loved the silver cuff, but a pale redhead dressed in black needs some OOMPH! otherwise she ends up looking like a statuesque vampire, and not in a good way. Maybe she should have taken that look further, kohl-rimmed eyes, ruby-red lips, instead of ending up washed out and deeply blah. Oh well, she didn't win the Oscar because of her fashion sense.

Cameron Diaz- What can I say? I like pink, but didn't she wear almost the exact same thing last year? With the same bad results. Droopy hair, wrapped-in-crepe gown; please, Cameron, pay for someone else's opinion.

Amy Adams- Now there's a redhead who knows what works for her, emerald-green elegance. And her little gold bag was the perfect accessory, even if there was nothing in it.

Ellen Page- Geez, girl, you're 21 and beautiful!! Why wear such a boring, dumpy dress? Were you playing it safe, or did you just listen to some bad advice? Here's a tip: next time, fail spectacularly, go for the leopard print like Diablo Cody did, make people talk, not just ugh.

Diablo Cody- Here's a woman after my own heart, a successful ex-stripper who didn't seem to give a damn if she made the best- or worst-dressed lists, as long as she made one of them. And, boy, did she ever. It pleases me greatly that she won the Ocsar too.

Marion Cotillard- Now there's a gorgeous young lady who took a chance that paid off. The sexy mermaid dress was different, and her loose, wavy hair went with it perfectly.

I really loved the proliferation of red on the carpet. Katherine Heigl, Heidi Klum and Helen Mirren carried it off beautifully (although I didn't care for Heidi's dark pink accessories), while Anne Hathaway's fake roses left me cold and Julie Christie spoiled her look with badly-chosen accessories.

What I Feel Like Doing Right Now

Jesus I wish it were Friday!! I know it's a short week already, but today, everything has been getting on my nerves. I feel like I've been at work for fourteen hours or so, maybe because bored and antsy don't go together well. I just want to go home, change into some comfy clothes, and have a margarita or five. Of course, I have to fix dinner first, but a little alcohol will help with that too. I'm not a big drinker, but liquid tranquility sounds very good right now.

The Perfect (Shit)Storm

I really, really wanted to enjoy this three-day weekend. I made a small plan. I wanted to relax, have a few drinks, get some stuff accomplished. Nothing elaborate or complicated and yet, very little of that happened. I did manage to get in a morning workout all three days, and NSA and I had a very good time for about an hour Sunday morning, those were the highlights. Other than that, six calls for work-related crap that most definitely did not required my immediate attention and could have easily waited for Tuesday, one call from my mother that didn't help, and one call from NSA's pharmacy saying that the narcotic patches he was just prescribed and has been using to mixed results, have been recalled. I''l type that again, RECALLED. What the fuck?? As in, "Oops, so sorry, the delivery system might be fucked up and you could accidently die from the correct use of your prescription." Where is this shit made, China? Synthetic morphine doesn't seem like something you want to mess around with, NSA is already paranoid because there's all sorts of warnings about overdosing on the stuff and how you might overdose, and he's afraid that me or one of the cats might somehow be exposed. (Not as far-fetched a fear as it might seem, particularly since the medicine is housed in a crunchy plastic film, similar to a candy wrapper, the type Jezebel looves to chew on. And puke up. She also likes to eat tinsel, which makes the cat box very festive.) So my hopeful plan of a relaxing three-day weekend was shot to shit. A bunch of stinging little pellets that didn't kill me, but left my ass raw. Calling it a perfect storm is a bit of a stretch, but it did feel like the universe was conspiring against me when I needed the downtime the most. Oh well, at least it's a short week.

I love T. F.!!

OMG!! Why did I wait so long to get into 30 Rock?? I heard good things about it, had eight episodes saved on the DVR, and yet never watched them. I watched four episodes last night and laughed my ass off! Alec Baldwin channeling Redd Foxx almost made me pee my pants, and Tina Fey breaking the fourth wall to ask "Can we have our money now?" was fuckin' hilarious!! It was just what I needed for a somewhat sucky Valentine's. Now I'm trying to figure out if I want to watch the episodes I've missed online, or if I can get them through Netflix. I guess I can thank the writer's strike for forcing me to investigate new shows. I guess I'll also have to give Baby Mama a chance.

Smooth Patch

I like when someone says they've gone or are going through a rough patch. I just like the phrase and it seems so apropos. It implies that mostly, things are okay, the road rises up to meet you, but sometimes, you have a little trouble, a little roughness, just a "patch." My life feels like the opposite of this, most of it is pretty rough, with patches of smooth. It wasn't always this way, back when NSA was able to work and I didn't realize how fucked up my mother truly was, things were pretty good. Sure, there were rough patches, some of them long and dark, but the smooth dominated.
Lately, I've been feeling like the rough has beaten the shit out of me. I hoped that NSA's new medication would help things out, bring normal back a bit, and while he is in less pain, he's not tolerating it as well as he might. He's weak and nauseous, and I'm moody and pissed off. There are always trade-offs, but the first two days he was on it, before it built up in his system, it was nice, almost normal, and I thought maybe, just maybe... but it was just a smooth patch. And now we're back to days with him not being able to leave the house, and less pain, but more puking. And the added joy of suppositories to control the nausea. Bleah.

Vehicles I've Driven (Not a complete list)

1971 VW Van- Baby blue and white, converted to a camper with the back seat taken out and a bed built-in. My husband and I spent our honeymoon, six months, driving around the Southwest sleeping in this van, cooking on a Coleman stove and showering when we could, with our ferret, Nikita. This thing, manual transmission, was a beast to drive. I think the engine was something like 56 horsepower when it was brand new. We had a complete blast though, and I miss it terribly. It was also nice that you sat high enough to have a really good view, and you could get really, really close to the car in front of you and freak the driver out.

1982 Toyota Corolla- brown and ugly. Nicknamed "the Betsey" for the Harold Robbins book as well as the previous owner. My step-father actually used my money to buy this car. He was supposed to teach me to drive it, but that never really happened. After he lost the key, he cut out the ignition and jury-rigged it to start with a nail. I ended up really pissed that he used my money without my permission and then trashed the car, but that's the kind of person he was.

2007 Mini Cooper- cute and silver. I thought I wanted one of these, so adorable!, until I drove one. It felt little and jittery, and I didn't like the placement of the typical controls or the push-button ignition. Maybe I could get used to one, but I didn't like the way it handled.

2007 Honda Element- Aside from a clever marketing campaign, I didn't like much about it. Handles like a truck with blind spots the size of Canada. Wouldn't own one.

1998 Saturn 4-door- Silver, my first (and so far, only) new car. The salesman irritated us by fiddling with the advertised lease price, but I adored the car itself. Easy to handle with enough power, I didn't feel overwhelmed and I felt safe. Totalled in a collision in 2002, in most other cars, NSA would have been hurt much worse than he was.

Monday, Monday

Uneventful weekend, rainy Sunday, but a beautiful morning. NSA slept a lot, I think he's adjusting to the new medication, as well as making up for years of sleep deprivation. The narcotic patch isn't without side effects, he's a little woozy and constipated, but nothing unmanageable. I think he'll adapt.

Finally got around to watching Waitress. I think Netflix must love me very much because I often keep movies a month or longer. I either don't have the time to watch them, or I just don't feel like it. Anyway, I liked it. It was sweet and funny, and Nathan Fillion is about the sexiest Canadian I can think of. Jeremy Sisto's character, Earl, was pretty one-dimensional. I really wanted more of an explanation as to why Jenna was with him and why she stayed so long when he was just an abusive creep, but overall, pretty well-written. I did find myself distracted during Adrienne Shelly's scenes, just because I couldn't help but think about what happened to her.

I'm now19,000 words into my autobiography, which is pretty decent except when you consider that I've been writing it for, oh, about eight years now. I just haven't been serious, haven't been dedicated to writing or to myself, so I'm trying to change that. I think this blog is helping that way, keeping things flowing even when I'm only talking to myself. And action inspires action.

Glimmer

So of course after I'm all, Things are shit, and getting worse!, then a hopeful glimmer comes along to brighten things up and remind me to keep breathing. My dearest husband (whom I will henceforth refer to by his initials, NSA, since "dearest husband" seems so cliched and since NSA not only stands for "no strings attached" in personal ads, but also the National Security Agency, which is kinda cool) had a very good appointment with his general practitioner, Dr. Overworked Asian Chick. Now, having had health issues all of his life, NSA has had many, many bad doctors and bad visits, especially, it seems, when it was very important and when he most needed to be heard. This time, though, Dr. OAC actually took the time to read through his file, consider his specialists opinions, and listen to what he had to say. Will wonders never cease?? She agreed that since there's not much that can be done to cure him right now, stepping up the level of his pain relief would be a good thing. Yay! After years of suffering and stress, I get my husband back!! Not 100%, but definitely more than the 5-8% he's been.
Dr. OAC prescribed him a narcotic patch, constant-release through the skin, so he doesn't wake up in the middle of the night and have to wait for pills to take effect. This is a pretty big thing, both being able to sleep, and bypassing his devastated stomach. It means that we should be able to do things together again, simple things, like movies and dinners out. We'll have to see how well he tolerates it, but I'm allowing myself to be cautiously optimistic.