The glitz and dinner

So, the BFF came over, we gorged ourselves on spagetti bolognaise and milk stout (my new favourite drink, it takes me back to varsity), and then settled in to watch the Oscars last night. As far as I'm concerned, there is no point in watching award ceremonies on your own. Unless you're one of those people who talk to themselves. I'm not. I'm not averse to my own company but stop short of actually striking up a conversation with myself. What if we didn't get on?

I'm not sure the BFF agrees that you can't watch them alone, but he listened patiently as I chitter-chattered in his ear, probably only to about 50% of my comments but, well, ja.

It was a good one, I think. I haven't watched for a couple of years because, really, they do become a bit dull, but this one had some funny bits, some very gorgeous shiny, twinkley, sparkley dresses and jewels and some beautifully sad moments... Read: Heath Ledger's family accepting his award. They got it just right. So human, which I think must be the hardest (and most heart-wrenching) thing to do in the plastic drama, media circus of Hollywood. They were there simply as his family. Who loved him. And miss him. Two fat, hot tears from me. Just two. Unusual for me, but it was just so perfectly simple.

And, of course, the fact that Slumdog Millionaire, a baby budget, developing country movie swept the awards up is fabulous. Makes me grin and instills a new sense of faith in humankind. That faith often gets bruised and bashed in me when watching Hollywood movies. But I think we'll be okay.

A few more comments on dresses, put-on comedy by presenters and singing-dancing antics, and we were bored. Flick, flick and the channel was changed, leaving the plastic glitz and put-on smiles in it's wake. We ate lammingtons soaked in sherry, with custard. And were joined by a tiny baby lizard on my bedroom wall. I love that.

I wonder how long it takes to lose your grasp on reality in Hollywood?