That's me still sleeping from the snooze fest that was Sunday nights 84th Academy Awards.
It all stifled...
The Red Carpet dresses, ABC's reporting on the Red Carpet, me missing the only highlight, Sascha Baron Cohen blizzarding fey Ryan Seacrest in faux ashes, (God help me when I am longing for E. coverage), Billy Chrystal looking like a Long Island Bubbie, with espresso colored hair and too much filler in his chipmunk cheeks.
The lame jokes, that made the once fresh Billy seem like a Borscht Belt comic.
The technical awards and mostly anonymous movies nominated for Best Picture.
For me there were only two standouts: Gwyneth Paltrow in Tom Ford:
A Goddess. And Natalie Portman, back in top form, in Vintage Dior.
Oh. George and Stacey looked pretty good too:
Everyone else looked overwrought: Too much "pep" in Tina's Carolina Herrera peplum. Too much leg on Angelina. Too much everything on J.Lo. Much lauded Jessica Chastain looked like she was wearing a Belgium rug. Emma Stone in Giambattista Valli, looking like she was hiding a massive hickey. Glenn Close hiding her arms and a gorgeous Zac Posen gown, under a stiff matching blazer. Meryl's Lanvin looking. suspiciously flammable to me.
Groans, sighs and tweets were all that came out of me for 4 hours.
In true Academy Award style, "I'd like to thank my husband", who for perhaps the first time in his life, suffered through it all, on my behalf in our hotel room.
Next year, he'll be booking a suite with two flat screens. If it's anything like this years event, I won't blame him a bit...