And the Winner Is...

So award season came to a close Sunday night with the pomp and flair of the Oscars.

It's been a pretty quiet week in New York and I'm too depressed to write about my experiences in a pub on saturday morning watching my pathetic football team whilst a group of Americans chimed "I thought Ronaldo was Brazilian." So instead I will talk about the glitz and glam of the Oscars.
Now lets not beat around the bush here, Americans love Oscar night, almost as much as the Superbowl (or i guess in honor of Arshavin's Arsenal debut the Superb Owl). The covergae starts long before the ceremony begins with talentless fecks giving their two cents on who will win. Still it's better than watching Claudia Winkleman strain to have any sort of opinion at 4am back home.
After predictions it's time to switch over to E! to watch Ryan Seacrest attempt the impossible act of crawling inside the rectum of every celebrity attending. Nobody knows how but he somehow manages this. He also has an amzing gift of being able to brush off more talented, wealthy, screen-time-worthy, people than himself in order to dash over to the next star and begin the long trek up the hole they crap out of.
Then Brad and Angelina arrive... In surely the most unprofessional moment on TV Ryan's co-presenter squeals with excitement and starts jabbering like a school girl who's been drugged by The Jonas Brothers as they burn their promise rings.
The best moment of the red carpet is when one of the 12 year olds from Slumdog decides that despite the wealth of talent he is surrounded by the only person he wants to meet is Miley Cyrus.... He obviously is yet to discover Miley doesn't take to well to ethnics.

Half an hour to go.... and ABC decide to throw the most overly gay man you can imagine in front of the camera to discuss what everyone is wearing... After half an hour of fawning he concludes that everyone looks "fabulous".... this is a lie.

And so after hours of pointless bullshit the ceremony gets underway. Out comes Hugh Jackman, an odd choice to host seeing as he's not a comedian. What he can do though is sing and dance... so he does! And pretty darn well too I thought.
The evening starts with Penelope Cruz picking up her first Oscar but then slowly tails off as we flick through the technical awards. Steve Martin cracks the most risque joke of the night by ripping on not the Jews, not the African-Americans, not the Hispanics, not the Gays.... but instead he has a dig at The Scientologists. Tom Cruise curses from a cave somewhere.
Hugh comes back and performs a number about musicals in the style of.... a musical. The kids from High School Musical and Mamma Mia join him looking suitably awkward, Beyonce whores herself out to another awards ceremony.

Then in the biggest non shock of the evening Heath Ledger wins. His mum, dad and sister collect the award and to be honest it's the first time I have ever felt moved by his death, a truly sad moment and every member of the audience cried, even Brad Pitt, who by showing such emotion apparently became even sexier.

The rest of the night went to form, apart from the decision to overlook Mickey Rourke and Slumdog deservedly won. The kid from Skins, who as Adam Jacobs points out does look like a Habs boy, cried. Fiat Punto looked shocked and one of my favorite directors did an impression of Tigger.

The last word however goes to the behemoth that is Brangelina. Surely they are the least loved up couple EVER! They didn't acknowledge each other once! They sat next to each other but not a loving hand on the knee nothing. It was very very creepy.

So after that apparent audition for Heat let's name drop in the style of the Oscars.

First off I would like to thank my Mother who today through Facebook nominated me for being a nice person.

I'd like to thank Hannah Nizri who has a birthday today and is the mother of my beautiful child... Oneg.

And finally I have to thank the T.S crew who's funny experiences pop into my head throughout most my days at school. Hard blacks and all that.