Here’s a representative snippet of the running commentary from our couch last night as we watched the Oscars red carpet:
Me: “Holy Nick Nolte!”
Husband: “Whoa. Is he drunk?”
Me: “Probably.”
Me: “Oh Penelope, that hairdo is no bueno.”
Husband: “I bet that guy freebased cocaine on the way in.”
Me: “Um, that’s Jason Segel. From the Muppet Movie.”
Husband: “Whatever.”
Me: “Oh Brad…why the Legends of the Fall hair?”
Me: “Wait, how do you say ‘mustache’ in German?”
Husband: “Schnurrbart.”
Me: “Oh Bradley…why the schurrbart?”
Husband: “Holy JLo!”
Me: “Is it just me, or is half her nipple hanging out?”
Husband: “Definite nip-age.”
Me: “Ew. Well, at least she doesn’t look like the caped crusader. I’m looking at you, Gwyneth.”
Husband: “That dress sucks.”
Me: “I love you Glenn Close! But the bottom half of your dress is wacky.”
Husband: “She has huge tatas.”
Me: (eyebrow raised)
Husband: “What?”
* * *
Next year I think we should take over for Joan Rivers.
Unlikely Diplomat 