______________________________
The Bob Dylan Show & His Band-Bob Dylan,John Mellencamp,Willie Nelson
Louisville Slugger Field, Louisville, KY
Wed, Jul 8, 2009 05:30 PM
5.26.2009
You purchased 1 ticket to:
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
The Bob Dylan Show & His Band-Bob Dylan,John Mellencamp,Willie Nelson
Louisville Slugger Field, Louisville, KY
Wed, Jul 8, 2009 05:30 PM
______________________________
The Bob Dylan Show & His Band-Bob Dylan,John Mellencamp,Willie Nelson
Louisville Slugger Field, Louisville, KY
Wed, Jul 8, 2009 05:30 PM
4.12.2009
WITH FRONDS LIKE THESE, WHO NEEDS ANEMONES?
 |
| Spring 2009 |
I haven't blogged in a long time. Like for real. I also haven't done a lot of other things. But I have done still others. One thing I did was make Emily a stuffed elephant. And myself a stuffed rabbit. My creativity is not without a pulse. I firmly intend to get some stuff on the still-defunct website, too. The weekends have been occurring in rapid succession, but also passing by with great haste, leaving nary a trace of their existence in time's cruel forward march. Seriously, right about NOW is when I wish I actually just taught school, so I could have the summer off. It's something to think about.
2.22.2009
A Little Bit Of Broadway, 4:40-6:00, 2/22/08
Knowing Me, Knowing You - ABBA
Opening: I Hope I Get It - A Chorus Line
Jet Song - West Side Story
Joanna - Sweeney Todd The Demon Barber Of Fleet Street
Jolly Holiday - Mary Poppins
Light My Candle -RENT
The Trolley Song - Meet Me In St. Louis
Mimi?! Speravo Di Trovarvi Qui - Baz Lurmann's Production of Puccini's La Boheme
Quiet, Please, There's A Lady On Stage - The Boy From OZ
Tomorrow - Annie
Dance: 10; Looks: 3 - A Chorus Line
Oh, What A Beautiful Morning - Oklahoma!
Mack The Knife - Threepenny Opera
Defying Gravity - Wicked
By The Sea - Sweeney Todd The Demon Barber Of Fleet Street
Take Me Or Leave Me - RENT
What Do You Do With A BA In English - Avenue Q
Ease On Down The Road - The Wiz
Oh my god, we wrecked this show. We did everything wrong. Ten thousand regrets.
2.15.2009
...Yawn.
We (Alicia and I) went to bed all kinds of early last night, as we'd had respectively difficult Fridays. Of course, mine was sort of normal difficult, meaning coaxing children to put on their coats when they'd rather sit under a table and blow raspberries at any adult exhorting them to "make good choices," while hers was extra super hard, like facing Juggernaut at the end of the first level in the X-Men for Sega Genesis video game but your controller only has a couple of reliably working buttons - she was hell of sick (just a perk of my job I like to share with the people that I see in my life) and had a couple of tests that went down pretty nasty and raw. We were in bed by midnight and that meant we got to wake up luxuriating in pools of sunlight at about 9 or so this morning! She headed to Eaglecrest with Boni while I held down the homefront, listening to my soft rocking Valentine's Day mix and making valentines like it was an assembly line. I also washed dishes. I guess getting up early of my own accord puts some kind of work ethic in me. Josh and I headed out for a V-Day lunch after he got himself together and we had pretty hilarious misadventures at El Sombrero and exchanged valentines. After some sunset photo-ops, he brought me home to find some very sleepy snowboarders and borrow some duds for the wearable art show - you won't catch me there because I'm as outraged by the ticket prices today as I was the first time I heard of the whole shebang. JEEZ, like it's even worth that much! Anyway, between Alicia, Adrienne, Boni, and myself, we were able to kick Nick out of bed and smear enough make-up on our faces to scrape ourselves over to R&J in the nick of time. Nick put it best when he said that the show accomplished what he had previously thought impossible: making him even care about Romeo and Juliet. I'm in the same boat; the play itself always left me all kinds of cold, but this format really gets me into it! Tomorrow (or tonight, since it's after midnight now, I see) is the last show, so let me say that anyone who hasn't seen it really, really ought to, as it's pretty spectacular. There's a matinee of Dying City, too. Following, we forced Roma to stay open long enough to make us some pizzas and invite us to stay to eat after they caught us trying to take our boxed food to the bench outside like hobos. I have a 3 day weekend, so I'm basically super-jazzed, as Jimmy Tickles of Strangers With Candy fame would say. I want to finish my book tomorrow - I'm still reading Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, because I always misplace it and then eventually find it next to my bed. I think this book of magic has a spell of its own to confound me. I'm so into this book that it will kill me to eventually finish it...I just read Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book in a day and as I watched the pages whittle down I got progressively more upset it wouldn't continue indefinitely. This occurred at the same time as a conversation with Josh about enjoying one's time in a pursuit and having to break away as compared to enjoying one's time in a pursuit and continuing it until one might beg to be let go - we were talking about working in Antarctica, but it was very timely, as I was simultaneously lamenting every page closer to the end of The Graveyard Book...so I guess I know which camp I'm in: ride the mother out. Time to see if Alicia's up for some pre-bed Yacht Rock, so faretheewell.
2.09.2009
Ouch
This morning I was walking down the (not very big or impressive) hill to my car, thinking to myself, "Oh, it figures, there's a traffic jam blocking me in, I wonder if they'll get it sorted before I have to get involved to help push or something," when my feet both flew out from under me with no warning. I came down, as did my coffee mug (whose lid stayed on reasonably well, but who sprayed coffee hither and yon) and the outgoing mail I'd been carrying (the aforementioned hither and yon).
I heard people calling out asking if I was alright from their various vantage points of shoveling or spectating the traffic jam (the road was so slippery that a person was stuck half in and half out of their driveway, unable to get enough purchase to make any significant progress in one direction or another) and I wallowed up to a sitting position, feeling foolish, compelled to reassure them I was even though my brain was being flooded with a number of increasingly panicked nerve reports on my hand, and utterly confused. I looked to my left and right hoping that I would see something to give me a little navigational input as to why I was so confused or what I should do next and sure enough, saw my glasses lying a little more than halfway across the road - oh, dear, I need to mention that I wasn't on the sidewalk, because it's very inconsistent in terms of snow cover, and is often icier and more slippery than the road, and then you might have to wade up and over a berm to get to your car, so it's easier to just walk in the street, particularly as low traffic as ours is.
So, back to the story: the glasses are lying a little more than halfway across from me, and I dimly hear that the driveway car has made it in and the car behind it has started moving...why this car decided to start up when a person was sitting in the street is beyond me, but I, fearful that they would run over my glasses, leapt to my feet for a dash out to grab them. This brave leap instantly became a gross and terrible fall to my knees as my feet went out from under me with no warning...again. At this point, I gained a measure of respect for the degree of iciness and the magnitude of slipperiness, and instead crawled out to the glasses. The car had braked when it saw that the person who had merely been sitting dangerously close to their path had decided to soldier crawl all the way into their path, and became stuck.
Glasses clutched in hand, I turned around and crawled back to my scattered possessions, and sat up to inspect them. "Are they broken? They must be!" I thought, and answered myself, "How can I tell if they're broken?" "I don't know, try putting them on and see if it works." It did work. I then collected my coffee mug and mail and tottered up to my feet and over to my car, re-assuring people who continued to ask that yes, I was indeed alright, offering lamely, "I just needed my glasses!" Once I safely got to the car, I tossed my stuff in and got the brush out to start clearing off the snow and what-not, whimpering the whole time because my hand felt so terrible. I was initially quite convinced I would need x-rays and casts and who knows what else, but it seems that it might just be an epically jammed or sprained thumb, and there's not much they can do for that that I know of. I have whiplash, and my knee is bruised and skinned, and my thumb just sucks, and looking back on the bafflement and confusion I felt in the road, I think I came pretty darn close to knocking myself out in that first fall. And I didn't even get a lousy t-shirt.
However, my weekend was KILLER, despite sleep deprivation, life's many thousand little annoyances, and whatever else I can think of to complain about, because I saw R&J and Dying City. Both good. R&J was the most fun that I've ever gotten out of Romeo and Juliet, seriously. It was way sexy and way funny and I felt much more emotionally invested than I've ever been able to in all that overwrought teenage drama. Plus the tickets were free because I identified "Rock Around The Clock" when they played a snippet on the radio. LULZ, as Josh would say. Dying City was considerably less fun, except for all the fun you'll have comparing themes and topics with your theatre-mates afterward! I'm all about the various manipulations we see in the show, but there are lots of good, sound, valid points to make besides that. Highly recommend both and there's only one weekend left, so get off your ass. If you go to R&J, you may see me, whooping it up.
I heard people calling out asking if I was alright from their various vantage points of shoveling or spectating the traffic jam (the road was so slippery that a person was stuck half in and half out of their driveway, unable to get enough purchase to make any significant progress in one direction or another) and I wallowed up to a sitting position, feeling foolish, compelled to reassure them I was even though my brain was being flooded with a number of increasingly panicked nerve reports on my hand, and utterly confused. I looked to my left and right hoping that I would see something to give me a little navigational input as to why I was so confused or what I should do next and sure enough, saw my glasses lying a little more than halfway across the road - oh, dear, I need to mention that I wasn't on the sidewalk, because it's very inconsistent in terms of snow cover, and is often icier and more slippery than the road, and then you might have to wade up and over a berm to get to your car, so it's easier to just walk in the street, particularly as low traffic as ours is.
So, back to the story: the glasses are lying a little more than halfway across from me, and I dimly hear that the driveway car has made it in and the car behind it has started moving...why this car decided to start up when a person was sitting in the street is beyond me, but I, fearful that they would run over my glasses, leapt to my feet for a dash out to grab them. This brave leap instantly became a gross and terrible fall to my knees as my feet went out from under me with no warning...again. At this point, I gained a measure of respect for the degree of iciness and the magnitude of slipperiness, and instead crawled out to the glasses. The car had braked when it saw that the person who had merely been sitting dangerously close to their path had decided to soldier crawl all the way into their path, and became stuck.
Glasses clutched in hand, I turned around and crawled back to my scattered possessions, and sat up to inspect them. "Are they broken? They must be!" I thought, and answered myself, "How can I tell if they're broken?" "I don't know, try putting them on and see if it works." It did work. I then collected my coffee mug and mail and tottered up to my feet and over to my car, re-assuring people who continued to ask that yes, I was indeed alright, offering lamely, "I just needed my glasses!" Once I safely got to the car, I tossed my stuff in and got the brush out to start clearing off the snow and what-not, whimpering the whole time because my hand felt so terrible. I was initially quite convinced I would need x-rays and casts and who knows what else, but it seems that it might just be an epically jammed or sprained thumb, and there's not much they can do for that that I know of. I have whiplash, and my knee is bruised and skinned, and my thumb just sucks, and looking back on the bafflement and confusion I felt in the road, I think I came pretty darn close to knocking myself out in that first fall. And I didn't even get a lousy t-shirt.
However, my weekend was KILLER, despite sleep deprivation, life's many thousand little annoyances, and whatever else I can think of to complain about, because I saw R&J and Dying City. Both good. R&J was the most fun that I've ever gotten out of Romeo and Juliet, seriously. It was way sexy and way funny and I felt much more emotionally invested than I've ever been able to in all that overwrought teenage drama. Plus the tickets were free because I identified "Rock Around The Clock" when they played a snippet on the radio. LULZ, as Josh would say. Dying City was considerably less fun, except for all the fun you'll have comparing themes and topics with your theatre-mates afterward! I'm all about the various manipulations we see in the show, but there are lots of good, sound, valid points to make besides that. Highly recommend both and there's only one weekend left, so get off your ass. If you go to R&J, you may see me, whooping it up.
2.01.2009
Celebration Time, Come ON!
I have, as of today, officially watched a football game from start to finish, and a Superbowl game - talk about two birds with one stone. I was cheering for the Steelers, and good for me. That 100 yard touchdown interception thing was a big deal, even to a non-fan like me. I was whooping and dog-pounding it Arsenio Hall style. Sadly, neither Alicia nor I won any money in the weird little gambling pool we entered, and so we owe $20, but I still call it well worth it for the thrill of getting my hopes up that I would win the $40 pot for the 4th quarter scores and have my team win. After the Cardinals threatened to come from behind, I was glad to settle for just having my team win.
Another cause for celebration is finally getting Netflix 'Watch Instantly' to work on my computer! I flipped out when I realized that Internet Explorer wasn't connecting to the internet (you need IE to Watch Instantly), and that this was a common experience, not some weird quirk of my own I could fix, but Josh alerted me to a Firefox plugin I could use and it saved the day. It also saved the night, as it allowed us to watch Back to the Future on a whim. I saw BTTF 3 recently, and BTTF 2 a couple of years ago, and while they both have their good points (2: it's so weiiird, plus it's not afraid to go pretty dark. 3: ZZ Top, hoedown, Marshall Strickland.), they're also not really that good (2: it's sooooo weird, plus cheese overload on the 80's cafe. 3: relentless whimsy and cutesyness, and nobody cares if Doc gets laid - hey, Doc, why don't you take a little of your own medicine? I notice you don't mind messing with the time stream when you're...hm...saving your own life or getting some tail!) and they can leave a tired-of-the-future taste in your mouth. However, watching the original was as refreshing as a crisp breeze off a sparkling surf on a sunny beach in a balmy season. Watching the original was like lying down in a bed made of memory foam and having sleepy puppies blanketing you, then waking up to a tall glass of fresh squeezed o.j. Watching the original was like having the power of flight. What I'm trying to say is that it's really good. Maybe the lesser-than sequels tainted my memories, maybe they shouldn't have left the Huey Lewis out of them, or maybe I just needed a good solid decade off from watching it obsessively (by the way, I was pretty into this movie when it came out. I have fond memories of the novelization that I got at KMart). Since then, I've been Netflixing like a madwoman and I don't see any end in sight.
I also watched Krull this weekend, after it forced me to buy it for ten bucks at Fred Meyers. Does anyone remember "The Computer That Said Steal Me," by the way, since I just reminded myself of it? I love those emotionally fraught 80's juvenile fictions. So angsty. Who wasn't afraid of dying in a Cold War armageddon? And yet I'm revolted by the preternaturally adult culture foisted on kidsthesedays. I mean, who isn't - or actually, I guess some people probably just think it's cute when 7 year olds dance like the Pussycat Dolls and sing fucking Hannah fucking Montana, and dress exclusively in adult styles or slogan t-shirts, but it ain't me, babe. I'm all for not pulling emotional punches on kids (and I'm sure that there are perfectly true arguments contrary to my opinion, certainly the weird tragedies and sucker-punches hidden in children's movies and books set a certain pessimistic tone for life), but I'm not for basically forcing them to emulate impossibly older age groups as soon as they're able to consume any kind of pop culture. Last week a kid at Head Start asked me to pass them the "Hannah Montana." Pointing at grapes. Purple grapes. They meant purple. BLEARGH.
In cheerier news, I'm excited for both the Thunder Mountain plays, I hear they're killer!
Another cause for celebration is finally getting Netflix 'Watch Instantly' to work on my computer! I flipped out when I realized that Internet Explorer wasn't connecting to the internet (you need IE to Watch Instantly), and that this was a common experience, not some weird quirk of my own I could fix, but Josh alerted me to a Firefox plugin I could use and it saved the day. It also saved the night, as it allowed us to watch Back to the Future on a whim. I saw BTTF 3 recently, and BTTF 2 a couple of years ago, and while they both have their good points (2: it's so weiiird, plus it's not afraid to go pretty dark. 3: ZZ Top, hoedown, Marshall Strickland.), they're also not really that good (2: it's sooooo weird, plus cheese overload on the 80's cafe. 3: relentless whimsy and cutesyness, and nobody cares if Doc gets laid - hey, Doc, why don't you take a little of your own medicine? I notice you don't mind messing with the time stream when you're...hm...saving your own life or getting some tail!) and they can leave a tired-of-the-future taste in your mouth. However, watching the original was as refreshing as a crisp breeze off a sparkling surf on a sunny beach in a balmy season. Watching the original was like lying down in a bed made of memory foam and having sleepy puppies blanketing you, then waking up to a tall glass of fresh squeezed o.j. Watching the original was like having the power of flight. What I'm trying to say is that it's really good. Maybe the lesser-than sequels tainted my memories, maybe they shouldn't have left the Huey Lewis out of them, or maybe I just needed a good solid decade off from watching it obsessively (by the way, I was pretty into this movie when it came out. I have fond memories of the novelization that I got at KMart). Since then, I've been Netflixing like a madwoman and I don't see any end in sight.
I also watched Krull this weekend, after it forced me to buy it for ten bucks at Fred Meyers. Does anyone remember "The Computer That Said Steal Me," by the way, since I just reminded myself of it? I love those emotionally fraught 80's juvenile fictions. So angsty. Who wasn't afraid of dying in a Cold War armageddon? And yet I'm revolted by the preternaturally adult culture foisted on kidsthesedays. I mean, who isn't - or actually, I guess some people probably just think it's cute when 7 year olds dance like the Pussycat Dolls and sing fucking Hannah fucking Montana, and dress exclusively in adult styles or slogan t-shirts, but it ain't me, babe. I'm all for not pulling emotional punches on kids (and I'm sure that there are perfectly true arguments contrary to my opinion, certainly the weird tragedies and sucker-punches hidden in children's movies and books set a certain pessimistic tone for life), but I'm not for basically forcing them to emulate impossibly older age groups as soon as they're able to consume any kind of pop culture. Last week a kid at Head Start asked me to pass them the "Hannah Montana." Pointing at grapes. Purple grapes. They meant purple. BLEARGH.
In cheerier news, I'm excited for both the Thunder Mountain plays, I hear they're killer!
1.25.2009
Life Is What Happens When You're Busy Making Plans (Sometimes...Sometimes Bad Is Bad)
I totally tacked a Huey Lewis quote on to the end of the title because I hadn't heard that song in ages until I threw on the HL&theN DVD I got at Fred Meyer's. Yes, it's true, I've fallen in love all over again - I don't know how I could ever have forgotten a love so abiding. It's been all Huey all the time since Friday evening when I picked up a decently comprehensive best of. I am driving everyone crazy with the News, and I don't even care! Fortunately, Alicia and I usually get our fanaticisms in sync and once again, we're on the same page, here. One need only see the filthy Facebook group she started to know that it's so - but where I take it the extra mile is that I would even be up for it in the present. The biggest jaw-dropper in this whirlwind weekend of believing-in-the-power-of-love-back-in-time was not the wiki news that his grandfather invented the red wax they seal cheese up in, or that he got a perfect score on his math SATs (which I already knew from Behind the Music, thank you very much), but that when Emily walked into the house and was informed that she had just missed watching "We Are The World," featuring a little HL, of course, she calmly informed me that her friend met and is distantly in touch with Huey Lewis. I basically flipped shit all up and down on her, unsurprisingly.
Moving along, since wallowing in Huey Lewis and the News was not at the top of my agenda for the weekend, it naturally follows that in fact, all my grand schemes came to naught. Yesterday kicked off with a tremendously underwhelming Silverbow experience - as they all seem to be these days. Fact: the "jalapeno corn chowder" does not taste of jalapenos, nor is it a chowder. Fact: I am g.d. sick of getting the boot from the back room for "private events" every 5 minutes. Let me be, Silverbow, you know you already raped me for like twice what everything should cost, and you know that you are evil, evil, evil for moving the drip coffee behind the counter and being a total miser with refills. The next thing you know, they will charge for refills on hot water! (That joke originates in the fertile crevices of Adrienne's brain.) Anyway, we hung out as long as we could, and then we swung by Rainbow, where I got some choice lime oil that smells like green lollipops. Hot!
Next, Alicia and I were off to Mendenhall Peninsula, for some kid-sitting. We watched three little people, and they were all pretty well delightful. I am getting kid fever, dare I say. I enjoy hanging with the small ones, even when I'm trying to mediate the delicate negotiations of how much of Mary Poppins we can watch. Leaving, the stars were intensely intense, as they are out that way - the one reason that I would leave downtown to live anywhere else in Juneau. We tried to find Boni, and found her bicycling down Engineer's Cut-Off, homeward bound. After extended discussions in the frigid outdoors, it was determined she should just head downtown with us to hang out and drink wine, but by this point her bike had frozen unrideable, so I had to drive her to her house oh so slowly, her holding the door open with a foot, and holding the bike out the door with both hands clenched tightly. Our crackpot scheme worked. However, too much wine and too late a night have left my Sunday a bit out of sorts, and in the interest of ever accomplishing anything, and in the interest of not pickling my poor liver, I think a break from the sauce is in order. Besides, it's not like I've got enough spare brain cells to waste on purple drank. (I don't actually drink purple drank.)
On the upside, today was faaabulously beautiful - sunshine to spare. We had fun taking goofy pictures of ourselves, and of the sun shining through our eyeballs, and through our hair, and so on and so forth.
Tomorrow the work week swings back into gear, and some members of our household are experiencing some extreme dread and panic about that - isn't it awful? It's one of the worst feelings of the modern world, and we start practicing it when we don't want to go to school the next day and continue through the working life...I insist that I need a heap of money to live a life of true leisure - after all, I want to enjoy it, don't I? In a timely fashion, the Screen Actors Guild awards that Corin is currently watching are running their in memoriam clip montage, where I get to be horrified and shocked by all the actors I didn't know or had forgotten died this year. For example, the angel from Barbarella is no more!!!! "An angel doesn't make love, an angel is love," what a smooth line. And Paul Benedict died? My goodness. Nothing ever stays the same. Corin's got us all trying to figure the exclusion of Heath Ledger from the montage...my guess is he died just in time to make it into the last one. As far as self-congratulatory meaningless awards shows goes, this one is pretty entertaining and mellow - a room full of actors celebrating each other - Sean Penn making an ass of himself dropping "comrade" bombs and trying desperately to evade Mickey Rourke's allegations a few weeks back that as these things go, Penn's not the least homophobic guy in the room - Brits taking awards down left and right, and Meryl Streep winning everyone's heart with her rambling, enthusiastic, possibly boozed up gushing. The final thought: I need this cold to go away, immediately.
Moving along, since wallowing in Huey Lewis and the News was not at the top of my agenda for the weekend, it naturally follows that in fact, all my grand schemes came to naught. Yesterday kicked off with a tremendously underwhelming Silverbow experience - as they all seem to be these days. Fact: the "jalapeno corn chowder" does not taste of jalapenos, nor is it a chowder. Fact: I am g.d. sick of getting the boot from the back room for "private events" every 5 minutes. Let me be, Silverbow, you know you already raped me for like twice what everything should cost, and you know that you are evil, evil, evil for moving the drip coffee behind the counter and being a total miser with refills. The next thing you know, they will charge for refills on hot water! (That joke originates in the fertile crevices of Adrienne's brain.) Anyway, we hung out as long as we could, and then we swung by Rainbow, where I got some choice lime oil that smells like green lollipops. Hot!
Next, Alicia and I were off to Mendenhall Peninsula, for some kid-sitting. We watched three little people, and they were all pretty well delightful. I am getting kid fever, dare I say. I enjoy hanging with the small ones, even when I'm trying to mediate the delicate negotiations of how much of Mary Poppins we can watch. Leaving, the stars were intensely intense, as they are out that way - the one reason that I would leave downtown to live anywhere else in Juneau. We tried to find Boni, and found her bicycling down Engineer's Cut-Off, homeward bound. After extended discussions in the frigid outdoors, it was determined she should just head downtown with us to hang out and drink wine, but by this point her bike had frozen unrideable, so I had to drive her to her house oh so slowly, her holding the door open with a foot, and holding the bike out the door with both hands clenched tightly. Our crackpot scheme worked. However, too much wine and too late a night have left my Sunday a bit out of sorts, and in the interest of ever accomplishing anything, and in the interest of not pickling my poor liver, I think a break from the sauce is in order. Besides, it's not like I've got enough spare brain cells to waste on purple drank. (I don't actually drink purple drank.)
On the upside, today was faaabulously beautiful - sunshine to spare. We had fun taking goofy pictures of ourselves, and of the sun shining through our eyeballs, and through our hair, and so on and so forth.
Tomorrow the work week swings back into gear, and some members of our household are experiencing some extreme dread and panic about that - isn't it awful? It's one of the worst feelings of the modern world, and we start practicing it when we don't want to go to school the next day and continue through the working life...I insist that I need a heap of money to live a life of true leisure - after all, I want to enjoy it, don't I? In a timely fashion, the Screen Actors Guild awards that Corin is currently watching are running their in memoriam clip montage, where I get to be horrified and shocked by all the actors I didn't know or had forgotten died this year. For example, the angel from Barbarella is no more!!!! "An angel doesn't make love, an angel is love," what a smooth line. And Paul Benedict died? My goodness. Nothing ever stays the same. Corin's got us all trying to figure the exclusion of Heath Ledger from the montage...my guess is he died just in time to make it into the last one. As far as self-congratulatory meaningless awards shows goes, this one is pretty entertaining and mellow - a room full of actors celebrating each other - Sean Penn making an ass of himself dropping "comrade" bombs and trying desperately to evade Mickey Rourke's allegations a few weeks back that as these things go, Penn's not the least homophobic guy in the room - Brits taking awards down left and right, and Meryl Streep winning everyone's heart with her rambling, enthusiastic, possibly boozed up gushing. The final thought: I need this cold to go away, immediately.
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