The Oscar Awards are going on right exactly now at this very moment while the television is turned on. Yes, this very moment in time, as the hand of the clock moves, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is handing out cheap fake gold bald-man awards to every movie under the sun EXCEPT
Enthiran, the Kollywood blockbuster. Oh well. Chitti will deal with these "suits" in due time.
In the meantime, let me give you my own play by play of the evening's events as they unfold. That's right, AS THEY UNFOLD. I sense doubt on your part. I'm not sure what you're doubting.
11:55pm - Jack Nicholson's botox just popped and his forehead flopped down into his lap.
11:57pm -- Natalie Portman just accepted an award for playing a stank ho ballet dancer with bird feather stems oozing out of her shoulder blade area. And look at her! Whoa, she's gained weight. Guess that fettuccine alfredo fat camp didn't work. Strangely, she's only gained the weight right in the belly area. Is she tippling the absinthe again? I can't figure it out. I mean, that belly is huge. What could possibly explain the weight gain? I'm baffled.
11:58pm -- Diny Cowbossalou just presented the award for Worst Hat to
Bastarde Pieu, the French director of the hit indie pic,
Crondeme de la Miserable Stink.
11:59pm -- Colin Firth? For Pete's sake! He won another award. And there's Tom Hopper with an arm around his shoulder, emotionally accepting him. Colin's hair is nice and fluffy, though. I'll give him that. I'll bet he smells pretty good, like some kind of cologne with a hint of cognac and maybe sawdust.
12:07pm -- Christian Bale, people. He won something, but I was only half paying attention. Not sure what he won. Best...something-or-other. What is that bump on the side of his nose beside his eye? Some kind of nesting silverfish or something? Pick that bad boy off, old paint!
12:12pm -- Ah, Best Picture. Maybe they will surprise us all by secretly adding Enthiran to the mix. If Marlon Brando were still around, he'd waddle right up there to the podium, sweating and mumbling, and his cheeks would sag, and his saliva would glisten in the corners of his mouth, and strange white powder would be on his forehead, and he would see to it that Enthiran won. He would see to it. Where are you Marlon? Return from the terrible ether waves of eternity and fix this Hollywood establishment!
12:15am -- Well, there you go. The King's Speech won. I quit. I can't handle it anymore. Where is the love for Chitti the Robot? The King's Speech didn't have one musical dance number in it, NOT ONE! It's not right. What sort of crooked, mildewed measuring stick are they using in Hollywood to measure quality?
12:20am -- And the Academy Awards is over. There it is. I didn't love it. But I also didn't turn it off halfway through. I also spilled a little Sangria on my pants and it soaked right through. I'm going back to blogging about Mark Northover after this.
Labels: Academy Awards, Chitti, Colin Firth, Enthiran, Natalie Portman, The King's Speech
