It’s also one of the best Onion News thingies ever.
Funny I have no memory of us branching out into this, but then again, a lot of my memories are hazy at best.
I’m sure everyone is bored to death of reading about all this Oscar claptrap, so I’ll keep my picks for the top categories brief. Here are my Academy Award predictions in photos!
Best Supporting Actor: Heath Ledger
Best Supporting Actress: Penelope Cruz
Best Actor: Sean Penn
Best Actress: Kate Winslet
Best Picture: Slumdog Millionaire
Most Likely to Be Liz and Laura’s New Crush: Dev Patel
Film that will take home the most awards: The Hottie and the Nottie
1. The Thin Man (W.S. Van Dyke, 1934)
2. Leaving Las Vegas (Mike Figgis, 1995)
3. The Lost Weekend (Billy Wilder, 1945)
4. Sideways (Alexander Payne, 2004)
5. Animal House (John Landis, 1978)
6. Old School (Todd Phillips, 2003)
7. When a Man Loves a Woman (Luis Mandoki, 1994)
8. Beerfest (Jay Chandrasekhar, 2006)
9. All About Eve (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1950)
10. Strange Brew (Rick Moranis/Dave Thomas, 1983)
I was beginning to get annoyed about the fact that there was no good Obama song emerging from the citizens of this country, famous or not. I was worried that the best we had to offer as a nation was Obama Girl and that crappy will.i.am song.
I mean, Trey Parker and Matt Stone managed to pull a whole episode out of their ass the day after Obama won the election–and how many goddamn musicians do we have in this crazy country? Nobody could get it together and write a song about something everyone cared about?
Well, nobody in our country could, but that doesn’t mean other countries aren’t having a go. And that’s why I’m pleased to announce that the contest is over, and a winner has been chosen. The official song of the Obama presidency has been written, and like every other hard job in this country, it took a Mexican to do it right. A group of Mexicans, in fact. I present to you, my loyal readers…
Everyone knows that Liz and Laura are fans of the drink, but how did their unholy fascination with alcohol begin?
Let us take a look into the not so distant past…
The first time Liz got faced was a magical day. She was on an overnight train traveling from Moscow to St. Petersburg, a fabulous leg of her high school class trip to Europe. She and a few other innocent friends were politely playing Parcheesi in their car as the train teetered along, when suddenly there came a knock at the door. ‘Twas the drink cart, and in this beautiful land the word “minor” didn’t exist. Cans of champagne were ordered, and soon the innocent ride through the night turned into a party train, Russian style. Let’s just say that Liz and her gang of cut-ups shockingly were not the only high school students who took advantage of such an opportunity. Liz still speaks fondly of stumbling down the narrow, already wobbly hallway to the tiny bathroom at the end of the car and thinking to herself “This is the greatest thing I have ever experienced.”
As for Laura, she and Liz went out to a “my parents are out of town so let’s drink in their house” party, and as it was Halloween she was all gussied up in a Goddess costume. After much dancing, giggling, and innocent high school flirting, Laura partook in one too may shots of Popov and suddenly grasped at her stomach in confused pain. “Yer gonna vom!” Liz declared in terror and hastily headed her pal toward the safety of outside…but alas, Laura couldn’t make it out the doorway before the fury let loose. So there in front of half her class, little Laura had her first drunken puke in their friend’s doorway. A picture of this very night, costume and all, somehow ended up in our senior yearbook.
And so we carry on thusly, liver damage be damned!
Now, I love the melodramatic soap opera known as The L Word, and I’ve followed it as a loyal viewer through thick and, often, thin. When dignified heiress and mother Helena became a professional gambler and went to jail (without it affecting her child visitation rights), I suspended my disbelief. When Jenny somehow got her inside-joke-filled book Les Girls made into a major film, even though it looks like a shittily acted two hour version of the first season of The L Word, I believed it, if only because I figured it was a reflexive exercise or show creator Ilene Chaiken getting all Woody Allen by working herself into the story. But now this!
Who Shot J.R. was original (unless you count millions of whodunnits and Agatha Christie plays).
Who Shot Mr. Burns was funny, and they did it right–with a cliff-hanger spanning a season finale and a season premiere, so you had the whole summer to wonder.
Who Shot Julian Crane (in Passions) was awesome but they only sort of resolved it, years later, in typical Passions style, so the tension kind of vanished after a while.
But why spend the whole of the short (8-episode) last season of this relationship drama unraveling a murder mystery? Not only do I not believe anyone’s motives (Max is hormonal? Tina might lose her job?) It will probably turn out that Jenny killed herself. Or she wasn’t dead at all, and that Lucy Lawless cop was just a plant from extras casting, and it was all a test of Shane’s loyalty! I don’t know, that’s a bit farfetched, but we are talking about Jenny here. What do you think?