the Oscars! Now, as I'm sure I've already indicated, I'm not so much a movie person, and I hadn't seen a single film that was Oscar-nominated. Not even Precious, which was based on one of my all-time favorite books. I definitely couldn't care less about all the technical awards, but to be honest, I'm not even really invested in the big awards, except for political-ish feelings like being proud that a female director won, and excited that a movie like Precious got recognition.
That said, I get nearly giddy waiting for the beloved Academy Awards, so excited for the glamour and couture and satin that will inevitably be on display. I play little games with myself: Who will have the best dress? Can I guess who designed that dress before the actress reveals it to the pre-show interviewers? Will the dresses I hate the most be on the "Worst Dressed" lists the next day?
My favorite gown, by a landslide, was Miss Rachel McAdams's strapless Elie Saab beauty. I've been thinking about it all day . . . bandagey up top, perfectly fitted to the waist, and then flowing into something reminiscent of an exquisite watercolor painting. Here it is:
It's pretty bold to wear a print to the Oscars, and I seriously applaud that well-taken risk. Speaking of prints, I nod an Honorable Mention to Maggie Gyllenhaal's gown (and another toDemi Moore's pretty, perfectly-fitted dress).
Let's move onto the heinous:
WTF is that hot mess, seriously??? I can't stop wondering at what point Zoe Saldana looked at that dress and thought, "That's the one!" Wow. Those look like humongous plastic Hawaiian leis at the bottom. That woman is WAY too pretty to be wearing this tragedy. It almost seems like she did it as a prank. Which come to think of it might be pretty funny.
Today our 6-week grades were due, which means that I stayed in my office furiously catching up on grades until 6:45 pm. Ugh. It's pretty depressing when you finally leave work and it's pitch dark. Which then meant that I was so drained when I got home that I frittered away two whole, valuable hours watching Jason & Molly's Wedding on tv. I mean, seriously? Another televised Bachelor wedding? What's worse is that I actually got all emotional when Jason saw Molly at the end of the aisle and took a big gulpy breath and then started to cry . . . I'm so lovehungry that even cheesy nonsense like the freakin' Bachelor gets me going.
But is it too much to ask to want a man who will gulp and tear up at the sight of his bride in her dress? My romantic heart just can't be quieted, I guess. ;)