Oscar Fantasies

You know the little factoids that the Oscars announcer reads in regards to each winner? "Susanne Fishman spent 8 years studying the mating habits of naked mole rats to make SUBTERRANEAN ORGY BLUES." You know, those kind of things.

I briefly fantasized tonight that my film had won for something and as I walked to the stage from the nosebleed section, the announcer's factoid would have been, "Sherri Larsen spent two straight months holed up in her house, surviving on nothing more than bison summer sausage, eggs, and Diet Coke to make her film. The ensuing diarrhea is also how she lost the weight to fit into her Oscar gown." (Insert cut to Brittany Murphy and Calista Flockhart clapping furiously and nodding to one another.)

Then I imagined that the instant popularity would bring me an offer to be the new Trim Spa spokesmodel, what with Anna Nicole's recent dirt nap.

---ADDENDUM---

I have to add this, because I'd forgotten it earlier, when Celine Dion (whose name also forms the words Satan Incarnate, I think) had stared directly into the camera and instantly reached into my soul and the pure, blood-chilling fear that it gave me blotted out any memories I may have had about show moments previous to her appearance.

My thoughts on the McDonald's commercial during the awards show:

During the first set of commercials, this curious thing comes on, with all these kids of different nationalities in their native countries, running around and yelling in their native languages, until you get to a kid that speaks English, and he's like "Dad's making dinner," or some shit like that, then it flashes to a scene with a father putting two bags of McDonald's on the kitchen table.

I was watching that and my mind raced forward to a better last shot... there's dad, tired, sweaty, zombie-like in his depressed state... flipping the burgers at McDonald's... and there are the kids waiving to him from the counter, bragging about how they get all the free fries they want ever since dad's job got outsourced to India. Then they cut to the Indian dad, bringing home McDonald's to his kids.

That works for me on so many levels.

Maybe I'm just evil.