Shower Thoughts #37

What is this expression "For Pete's sake!" all about? Here, I'll use it in a sentence:

Mum: Baisy would you hurry up and hang the washing out for Pete's sake?

I don't understand. Who is Pete? And why would I hang the washing out for his sake? I don't even know him! If I'm going to hang the washing out at all it's gonna be in the name of my Mum, not this mysterious 'Pete' character.

WARNING: The Following Post May Or May Not Cause Orgasms

So thanks in part to Julia - who played me a little of it in her car - and also in part to my insatiable penchant for illegally downloaded music, I just "borrowed" the new Alicia Keys album off Limewire.

Oh, alright! I stole it! Are you happy now? I feel filthy!

Anyway.

For the most part, I like it. I've never been a huge fan of ole' A.K, but this album seems to be made up of songs about love, or love lost, or being in love but not being with the person you love...just really sad shit. And you know me; any excuse to take off my clothes, curl into a ball and weep openly.

Aha. I'm kidding about the naked thing, but the rest is true. No, it's all a lie. No, okay, the naked thing is true, but the other stuff is made up. I like to take my clothes off and listen to Alicia Keys is basically what I'm trying to say. What I don't understand is the album cover. It reminds me of a hawaiian print skirt I once almost bought at Supre when I was 12:

What is going on here? But I'm not going to go on about it. If you're curious about the actual music, give this a listen. And if you'd like to have an orgasm, try this.

So I had dinner with the aforementioned Julia and our friends Leigh and Anna last night. Hi guys! Ah, who am I kidding, they won't read this. We hit up The Longy, also known as The Longueville Hotel, also known as The Best Place In Town To Get Drunk Because It's Walking Distance From My House. I had this grudge against the Longy for so long, I think because it's where my sister and her sailing buddies used to hang out and I assumed the place was just full of pissed sailors and old men. It is, but I dropped the grudge when I discovered how good their hot chips are. Damn. Or, as my Dad would say if he was thinking about Heath Ledger, day-em!

This is my Mum's reaction to reading my last post:

Mum: You didn't say 'sorry, Mum' after the second time you said shit.

I am not even kidding. You didn't say 'sorry, Mum' after the second time you said shit? No laughs, either. Not even a giggle. Not even a grin.
Tough crowd, man. That mother of mine...I mean, what is that? What IS that? I'm funny, dammit! I mean, on occasion. I know it. Dad knows it. The internet knows it: My Mum gets all shitty when I swear on my blog. She hates it. It really pisses her off. It makes her fucking mad, yo. What swear words haven't I used yet? Crap. Boobs. Crap. Hi Mum! The weirdest thing about it is that she swears all the time. I actually edited her reaction to my last post. What she really said was:

Mum: Baisy, what the fuck? You didn't say 'sorry, Mum' after the second time you said shit.

Ha. 'Baisy' - for you out-of-towners - is my family nickname, which literally every person who is related to me has known me as since I was about 2. It means 'fuck' in French. Not a joke. As you can imagine, I am desperate for a holiday to France with my family.

Ricky Bobby, Marion Cotillard, Nicole Kidman, Jacki Trew?

I just took the Which famous movie character are you? quiz. Turns out I'm like Ricky Bobby, who you may (or may not, depending on your penchant for crap movies) remember from Talladega Nights:

Now, I'm not gonna deny that I'm the funniest person who ever lived, but what the hell? I'm a man? And not even a good-looking man, but a chubby, hairy, weird one who eats heaps of junk food and races cars for a living?
Actually you know that sounds about right.

Anyway since I'm bored I just did what I always do when I'm bored, which is watch a whole shitload of Oscar acceptance speech videos on YouTube. Sorry, Mum. Watch a whole lot of Oscar acceptance speech videos on YouTube. My favourite of all time is probably Marion Cotillard's. Not just because of her accent - well, alright, it's mostly because of her accent - but also because she ended it with "it is true, there are some angels in this city!". Get it? Los Angeles? The Angels?
I think that's cute. It is! It's cute, right? That dress she wore was also pretty bangin'. Whatever, it's better than Nicole Kidman's "My whole life I wanted to make my mother proud, and now I'm going to make my daughter proud". Um, what? God and everyone else knows I love Nicole Kidman, but that was retarded for 3 reasons:
1) You're Nicole Kidman. Your daughter is already proud.
2) Yeah, who cares about the dad. And
3) Doesn't she have a son, too?
Ah, whatever. When I win an Oscar, it's gonna go something like this...

"Hey, so has anyone here seen The Exorcist? Man, what is up with that shit? It's like, split-pea soup and spinning heads? Really? Whoever called that the scariest movie of all time needs to grow some serious testicles and then punch themselves in the face. Peace out academy."

Aha. I'm kidding of course. That would be rude. It'll probably go more like this:

This Is A Blogatorship, Not A Blogocracy

Woo! Saturday afternoon! Get loose!!!
So in continuing with the theme of 'I Am The Biggest Dork In Australia, Possibly The World, Possibly The Universe, And Have Nothing Better To Do On A Saturday Afternoon Than Watch Movies And Eat Icecream', I just sat down to eat some icecream and watch some movies.
Want to know what I watched? Probably not, but I'm gonna tell you anyway because (to paraphrase Kirsten Dunst in Bring It On) this is a blogatorship, not a blogocracy.
Well, first The Blind Side, and then Wedding Crashers - which always reminds me of the 2 weeks I spent in Seattle with Mel and Casey, and how one of the guys we stayed with named Chauncey was absolutely obsessed, and made us watch the extended version and all the deleted scenes over and over and over so many times that, long story short, we didn't see much of Seattle but I pretty much know every line out of Wedding Crashers by heart.
Dammit, Chauncey!
The Blind Side on the other hand, didn't really remind me of anything. Oh, apart from that one time I was an impoverished almost-orphan from the wrong side of town who was randomly invited home by Sandra Bullock and her family and then went on to become one of the NRL's highest paid and most-sought-after players of all time.
Man, those were some good times.
Anyway.

In other news, I just heard on E! that Beyonce and Jay Z might be having a baby. Oh boy am I excited! And not just because I think Beyonce might be one of the most disco fabulous women on the planet, but also because there are alot of people out there insisting that this is gonna be one damn good-looking child, and I'm about to prove them wrong:

Ouch. The Maury Povich Baby Maker never lies, people.

You guys I have a job interview tomorrow!

*NERVOUS*

In other news, happy birthday to old-guy actor Steve McQueen, otherwise known as The Wentworth Miller Of My Mother's Generation.

Driving Mr Jackman

Whats happening, Planet Earth?

So I just saw the new Ice Tea ad starring Hugh Jackman. Yeah. I have nothing else to say about this, except that I would now like to drink a bottle of Lipton, marry Mr Jackman and act out that commercial every 5 minutes for the rest of my life.

In other news, it must be a cold day in hell - because I just booked my driving test. Aha! See how I did that? It's like when people go "it'll be a cold day in hell before I..." and then say something they're never ever gonna do? See how I switched it? Get it? Do you get it?

Yeah, you get it.

My jokes are awesome.

Anyway, it's true. I did book my driving test. And about time too - I mean it's not like I've been on my learner's license for 3 years or anything. Except that I have. So what? It just took me a really really long time to master roundabouts, that's all.
I am kidding of course: I f***ing own roundabouts. Sorry to swear, but you know it's true. No, the truth is simple and much less entertaining - I am just really exceptionally lazy and stupid.
Still. With any luck, I'll be running down old ladies all by myself within the next 3 weeks. And on that note, I'm out. Here is a picture of what I imagine hell looks like today:

You Know Heath Ledger? DAYEM!

Since my sister ran away to join the Navy, and my Mum ran away to join the circus (or was at work or something), I ended up sitting around drinking coffee with my Dad this afternoon. This happens like once a fortnight, and we usually just spend the time talking about trivial crap; what to have for dinner, what we think Catherine is doing, how bad of a driver I am...Which is kind of fun. Or funny, since no matter what we start off talking about, the conversation always eventually turns to this guy:I don't know where this came from, but it seems like my Dad is f***ing obsessed with Heath Ledger. I'm sorry to swear, but saying he's just obsessed isn't good enough. He's more than obsessed:

Dad: Hey, so you know Heath Ledger?

Me: Yes Dad. I am aware of Heath Ledger.

Dad: (Sighs) Damn.

Yeah. The best part was the way he said 'damn' - like it had two syllables instead of one. You know, the way you say it when you're talking about someone who is totally bangin' in the looks department?

Day-em!

Oh my gosh. What is more disturbing, my Dad being in love with a dead guy, or my Mum being in love with a gay guy? Or are they both overshadowed by the fact that I'm writing about it on the internet for millions and millions of strangers to see?

Speaking of millions and millions of strangers...YouTube. I don't know why (well, that's not entirely accurate. I think it probably has something to do with the fact that I'm 20, broke, jobless and still living at home with my Mummy and Daddy), but lately I've become totally addicted. People on YouTube are awesome. And I'm not just talking about this guy:

Well...mostly. But there are some other freaks out there who are pretty alright. Like this guy, who makes me extremely thankful to my parents for not letting me play video games as a child:

Whoa. I don't know alot about this "World of Warcraft" game, but I'm pretty certain it's not worth shoving a remote control up your ass. And then there's these chicks, who make me extremely grateful to my parents for not letting me and my best friend attempt snowboarding and make total asses of ourselves:

Oh, wait.

My point is, YouTube is awesome. And if I didn't have - as my Mother so kindly puts it - a "face made for radio", I would definitely be making more vlogs to upload there. Have they invented full body transplants yet? Until then, I'll just stick to blogging.

Is Johnny Weir My New Daddy?

So this is kind of a weird thing to talk about, but I think my Mum is in love with Johnny Weir. You know, the controversial figure-skating dude from America who recently got kicked out of the icecapades or something for not being "family friendly" enough?

Yeah.
Tough break, Dad.
And "not family friendly enough"? There's a word for "gay" I've never heard before. Which I think is kind of unfair for 2 reasons:
1) It's 2010. How is the world STILL discriminating against gay people? And
2) We're talking about a sport that involves men dancing in bedazzled spandex - they're all gay.

Haha. I'm awesome. I should probably start apologising now for using that photo of my Dad though. Sorry, Dad. This isn't my computer, and that's the only picture I could find. On the plus side, you do kind of look like this guy who is totally famous on YouTube:
So there you go. If anyone stops you on the street for an autograph, you know why.

Anyway.
I had a job interview today which I'm not going to talk about because I don't wanna jinx myself. I will tell you that it involves computers, so if they end up hiring me you should all expect an onslaught of Pointless-Blogging-At-Work. Which should be a nice change of pace, you know, from Pointless-Blogging-At-Home.
But yeah. I used the word 'pertaining' on my application form, so I'm pretty much a shoo-in.

"Hey, what do you think of this one? 5 years experience, available full time, has a diploma in...shit, forget that. This chick used the word pertaining. Hired!"

I'd like to take a few minutes to thank members of the Black Eyed Peas, for achieving the rare and exciting "two-songs-in-one" phenomenon. If you haven't heard the song "Imma Be" yet, get yourself to an iTunes store pronto; listen to the first 30 seconds, then fast forward to 2:31. It will blow your freaking mind-hole.

Speaking of mind-holes, mine must be malfunctioning or something because I've been having the most wacked out dreams as of late. I mean, I always have pretty retarded dreams, but usually they're at least cool-retarded. Like, I might be President of the Universe and having to come up with some intergalactic plan to save humanity from the wrath of the ant people. Or something. But lately? Last night I had a dream about taking a shower. Yeah. As if I don't spend enough time in the shower already. Come on, subconcious! You can do better than that!

How come there are dreams that everyone seems to have? I feel like most people have had the "I Was Naked In The Middle Of My High School And Everyone Saw" dream. The "Stuck Inside Jurassic Park For Real" dream is also popular. Then there are the dreams which are particular to each individual. With me, for example, it's always about Wentworth, Red Bull, college, or Me Being The President Of The Universe And Having To Save Mankind From The Ant People. Oh, and showers apparently. One time I dreamt about getting out of bed and going to the toilet, and I think I must have sleep-walk-acted it out, because I woke up at 4am on the bathroom floor. True story. I learnt 2 things that night:
1) You don't need to be concious in order to pee
2) Direct Face-On-Bathmat Contact = never okay

Me again. I know, I know - when the hell am I gonna shut up?
Well, not tonight, suckers!

So I just had a lovely phone call from my sister Catherine who is in the Navy and therefore constantly surrounded by a swarm of buff manly men. I know, because I could hear them in the background. Doing buff, manly things. Which I'm sure is very fun for her, but not for me, since the only things I'm constantly surrounded by are copies of Prison Break on DVD, empty Red Bull cans and house pets who haven't been fed yet.
Yep, I am living the high life alright.
Still, it was nice to talk to her all the same; our conversations are always a constant stream of mutual love and gratitude:

Me: So...what'd you do today?
Catherine: Yeah (long pause) Yeah, not alot.
Me: Huh.
Catherine: Yeah.
(Long pause)
Me: So, you coming home for Easter?
Catherine: Yeah, probably.
Me: Cool.
Catherine: Mmm. So...what'd you do today?
Me: Yeah (long pause) Yeah, not alot.
Catherine: Huh.
Me: Yeah.

...So maybe the love is silent. Still, it's there. Somewhere.
Anyway.
If you are looking for anyone to blame for this sudden onslaught of pointless blogging, it should be those Navy folk; because it's their Navy-issue special grape flavoured extra-strength energy drink powder that's keeping me awake.

Dear John, You Suck

I'm on a bit of a blogathon today.

Okay, so I know I said I wasn't going to talk about Dear John, except to say that it was - and I quote - "the biggest piece of shit I have seen at the movies this year", but I changed my mind. Firstly because I know at least half of you (re: the female half) will appreciate me ranting about Channing Tatum for 3 paragraphs, and secondly because it has become a long-standing tradition of mine to write a completely scathing review about pretty much every movie I see these days.
Except for Deep Blue Sea of course. Because that shit is just awesome.
Let's talk about Dear John.
Ummm, Channing Tatum. While I do like to poke fun at his hair, his face, the way he kisses, his general demeanor etc, there is no denying that the man is hot:
You're welcome, ladies. You are welcome. And yet, I am so not interested. There's only room for one blue-eyed bald-headed movie star in my world, and I think we all know who that is. Sorry Channing. Yes - I am sure Channing Tatum will read this and be suitably devestated when he does so. But still. Regardless of whether or not you would like to have lots of sex and babies with Mr Tatum, this movie sucks balls.
First of all, they fall in love after two weeks. I hate movies like this. Two weeks? Give me a break. And it's not because I'm bitter either (why should I be, I mean it's not like I'm still alone after 20 years on the meat market), it's because there is NO WAY that two people could squeeze as much stuff into two weeks as this couple does. Let me break it down for you:

• They meet
• They flirt
• He accidentally falls into a bonfire
• She breaks up with her boyfriend
• They kiss
• They bone
• He teaches her how to surf
• They laugh
• They fight
• They break up
• They make up
• They meet the parents
• They build a house

Two. Weeks.
Umm, no offense Makers-Of-Dear-John, but I don't think so. Build a house? It takes me two weeks just to blowdry my hair sometimes! Not really, but you get what I mean.

The other thing that really gets me is...oh, no, you know what? I don't think I can go on. Mostly because Home And Away is starting in a few moments, but also because if I talk about this movie for one more second, I might throw up. The best thing for you guys to do right now is get yourselves down to Hoyts and watch Dear John - then feel free to drive over to my house, so we can all mock the shit out of it together. Unless you actually like it of course - then you can feel free to go jump off a bridge, because clearly there is no hope for you.

This Birthday Just Keeps Getting Better And Better

Cab Driver: So I'm Harry. What's your name?
Me: I'm Jacki.
Cab Driver: How old are you Jacki?
Me: I just turned 20.
Cab Driver: 20?! You're not 17 or 18?
Me: No, do I look 17 or 18?
Cab Driver: Yes!

Pause

Me: I think I just fell in love with you.

Sharks, Scientists, A Rat Orgy and Some Sort Of Liver

So last night, in continuing with the theme of "It's My Birthday Week And I Get To Do At Least One Awesome Thing Per Day", I went out to dinner with Elle, Madi and Gem. I also saw Dear John at the movies, but since it wasn't awesome, I'm not going to talk about it. Except to say this: Dear John is the biggest piece of shit I have seen at the movies this year.
Now, back to dinner. Which with Elle is always fun because she has this weird ability to talk me into eating stuff I normally wouldn't touch with a 10-foot pole. I'm pretty sure I ate duck liver last night. Or maybe it was cow liver. Chicken liver? Pig? Human? Whatever it was, I'm still disturbed by how much I liked it.

Anyway.

One of the best things (I mean, apart from the whole human liver fiasco) about this place we went was that it was in The Rocks - and anyone who's ever been to The Rocks in their life will know that it's famous for 3 main things:
1) Cobbled streets
2) The markets
3) Rat orgys

I am kidding of course; nobody gives a shit about those first two. It's all about the rat sex. Okay, no, now I'm kidding. But we seriously saw like 10 rats crawling under the same door into the same bathroom. AND NONE OF THEM CAME BACK OUT. What were they doing in there, if it wasn't having a mass orgy? Nothing I wanna know about!
Then, as if the night couldn't get any better...after dessert (raspberry sorbet and a chocolate tart so yum I wanted to lay down in a bed of it and roll around), we went back to Elle and Mischa's to watch Deep Blue Sea, which everyone knows is pretty much my favourite Wild-Animals-Gone-On-A-Crazed-Human-Killing-Frenzy-Thanks-To-Interference-By-Hot-Scientists movie ever. The best part (since by this time it was almost 1 in the morning and we'd all had a couple glasses of wine) was the commentary. Like when Hot Scientist #1 is getting mauled by a shark -

Jacki: Look, look, he's about to get mauled!
Pause
Ellen: (Whispering) I love it when the red comes.

Ha. See? Awesome.
On a completely unrelated note, does anyone know how to properly pronounce Demi Moore's name? Is the emphasis on 'de' or 'mi', because I've heard it said both ways. I don't really care, I just think I should know in case she comes over for dinner or something.
That's all!

We're All Supposed To Eat Each Other Anyway. Duh.

I've had a crappy day.

I think that since my birthday (yesterday) was so 100% legendary, the universe decided to even things out a little. Either that, or everyone I encountered in Lane Cove was just really pissed off. First off, I went to the library. Oh my gosh, the library. Am I the world's biggest dork? Well yeah. I think I'm also the only person left on the planet who actually borrows books from the library, since I was the only one in there. So you would think they'd be all excited to serve me and stuff, but no. Not only were they not excited to serve me, they seemed really annoyed that they had to. Like, they actively avoided serving me. And when they finally did, it was only to tell me that I hold a $43.00 fine at the Stanton in North Sydney, and have been banned from borrowing books at all Stanton-affiliated libraries.
Including Lane Cove.
Dammit! I was mad. I even said that to the lady. I'm like "Dammit! I'm mad! At myself, mainly! Whatever book this is that's costing me $43.00, I hope it was a good one."
Well, it wasn't. It was something on ancient Egypt that I'd borrowed way back in 2006 for a high school assignment. Conclusion: I am an idiot who borrows shitty books.

Anyway.

Then I wandered over to After-A-Fashion which is this great op shop that I used to make fun of when I was young and immature and didn't appreciate vintage clothing. Luckily all that has changed - apart from the immature thing - so I had a pretty good time, until I noticed this couple trying on shoes and staring at me. So obviously I got all freaked out, thinking there was something wrong with me or my face or my hair or my clothes - like, maybe my shorts had a huge rip in them but I couldn't see, or maybe my eyebrows had fallen off on the way in but I hadn't noticed...I even went into the change room to check myself out in the mirror just in case.

Nothing.

So what's up, Trying On Shoes Couple? What's the deal? I don't know, it was weird. Then on the way home I got run over by like 15 prams. Or, to be more accurate, 15 prams being pushed by insane mothers who were determined to commandire the entire footpath. Then when I got home, I thought my day was looking up because I was just in time to catch an episode of Ellen, only it turns out it was one of those rare boring episodes, where she interviews some B-list celebrity for like 5 seconds, then spends the rest of the show lecturing the audience on why they should all become vegans.
What? Why? I think it's because of that book about eating animals that everyone seems to be talking about. Who even wrote that book? Have they never seen The Lion King? It's called The Circle Of Life, baby. We're all supposed to eat each other anyway. Duh.

18 Dillion Wonderful Things

Whatever happened to Freddie Prinz (or however you spell it) Jr? I don't know who's choosing what to play over at Movie Extra, but I've seen THREE old-school-teen-romance-films starring FPJ in the last fortnight alone.

Today was She's All That. Oh, my. There are 18 dillion wonderful things about that movie. Here are the first 3:

• Paul Walker
• Sherminator having to eat his own pubes
• The chick that plays Taylor Vaughan was totally in Prison Break

But seriously. What happened to Freddie Prinz (or however you spell it) Jr? Well, I'll tell you what happened: he took a job as Dr Harry Cooper's body double.

That joke was too easy, right? Oh look, he wears one of those hats that Dr Harry wears! It's hilarious!
Yeah, I suck. Whatever.
Anyway.
If you are anything like the kids I babysit, you may have noticed me looking particularly old and rickety as of late. Well, there is a reason - I turned 20 today. Also, that old bitch from The Skeleton Key totally put a spell on me and stole my youth.
Okay, so the Skeleton Key thing is a lie, but I did turn 20. Like with She's All That, there are 18 dillion wonderful things about turning 20. Here is the first one:

The others currently escape me.
Anyway, now that I'm officially old, I've been thinking alot about how I would like to die. Is that terribly morbid? You would think so, but every death-scenario I've come up with so far has been nothing short of hilarious. For example, getting hit by a blimp. That would be hilarious. I mean come on - where are you standing that you could get hit by a blimp? On top of a mountain? And even if you were, surely you'd see the blimp coming? They move at like 2 metres a year.
So I don't want to die by getting hit by a blimp. Because then I would be an idiot.
I don't want to choke either, because I have this weird fear of it. I choked on everything when I was a kid - lollies, spaghetti, steak, brocolli, melon, rice, milk, water, air, my own tongue. I had a very small oesophagus.
Conclusion: I don't know. I'd probably like to go in my sleep, or being smothered by Wentworth Miller's pecs. Because at least then I could say I died doing what I loved - sleeping, or being smothered by Wentworth Miller's pecs.

Happy Birthday, me!

So as it turns out, there is something scarier than the prospect of turning 20:I will never urinate again.

Some POST Oscar Thoughts

Alright people, lets get it out of the way:

Meryl Streep Did Not Win The Oscar

I am suitably devestated. Now, moving on.

First of all...I get that they're huge and amazing and more important than any of us normal people could even possibly imagine, but did the Oscars really have to air on THREE separate networks this year? I spent half my morning just deliberating over which channel to watch. Long story short, I went (as I always do) with E!...mainly because I am and always will harbour a not-so-secret addiction to the E! Channel, but also because I love seeing Ryan Seacrest and Giuliana Rancic making idiots out of themselves on the red carpet.

Oh, those two. Can they get any vainer? The best part is that you can tell they totally hate each other, but have to pretend otherwise on camera. Screw James Cameron, I'd give them the Oscar.

Speaking of the red carpet...eh. I got nothing. Other than Meryl Streep in all her glory and Sandra Bullock's impersonation of a statue itself, I was completely bored. Really. The best moment was either Sam Worthington and Zac Efron's awkward attempt at a handshake/hug, or Ryan Seacrest's referal to Mariah Carey's boobs as his "best friends". Oh, Ryan. When will you learn?

Now, the actual ceremony.

Oh, no, wait! Before we get to that, I want to finally say what I've been thinking since about 11.40 this morning - that the Academy totally needs to invent a new niche category, titled "Best Film With An Ensemble Cast". Or, if they want to be more accurate, "Best Film Where We Tried To Include As Many A-Listers As Possible In A Semi-Desperate And Completely Obvious Attempt To Draw An Audience". I don't know who'd win, but I'll tell you who wouldn't: He's Just Not That Into You. The only good thing about that movie is Ben Affleck's pronunciation of the phrase "deflated boob". I'm serious; like 45 minutes in. Check it out.

Steve (Martin) and Alec (Baldwin...we're on a first name basis) would have been more awesome as hosts had they not followed a musical number that made reference to prison-rape by Neil Patrick Harris, who I would now like to date, marry and have lots of sex and babies with. I do like Steve Martin though. He's looking pretty good, for a 90-something-year-old! Alec Baldwin though, I was half expecting to climb through my TV screen with a pick-axe and murder us all. What is it about that guy that screams 'serial killer'?

Anyway, he and Steve stood around making jokes at the audiences' expense for 5 or 10 minutes, most of which went down pretty well. Oh, except the ones about George Clooney, who must have had his sense of humour surgically removed before the ceremony - coz he looked pissed. And a bit scruffy. And kind of old. And sort of like a complete douche-lord.

Speaking of complete douche-lords...James Cameron. Um, how shall I put this delicately...SUCK IT, JAMES CAMERON, SUCK IT! Sure, Avatar won everything even I admitted it should win (cinematography, visual effects, art direction etc), but the big cheese himself got nothing. I wouldn't worry about it though, he's got about $400 billion to soften the blow.

Other than that, what is there to talk about? Jeff Bridges and Mo'Nique who both won as predicted, Christoph Waltz taking out Best Supporting Actor, and Sandra Bullock robbing Meryl Streep but being extremely charming, funny and likable while doing it.

Oh.

And Oprah was there.

Best Dressed? Sandra Bullock

Best Attempt At Being Best Dressed? Kristen Stewart (I know, even I was surprised)

Best Presenter? Ben Stiller, who dressed up as an avatar and insulted James Cameron in the native Na'vi tongue.

Best Line? Came from Tim Robbins: "I remember Morgan Freeman turning to me on the last day of shooting for The Shawshank Redemption and saying, "Friendship is getting a friend a cup of coffee. Could you do that for me Ted?"

And finally...

Best Part: It's gonna be on repeat for the next 24 hours.

Some pre-Oscar thoughts:

Who the hell is Jeff Bridges? Briges? Brides? Okay kidding, I know that last one is wrong. Still, who is this guy? Apparently he's been nominated like 8 dillion times before, and everyone keeps going on about how much they hope he wins because he's pretty much the Kate Winslet of Old Guy Actors, but I am totally clueless. Jeff Bridges, if you are reading this, please send me a link to your IMDb page. And an email explaining how to spell your last name.
My Mum and I are in the midst of an all-out war concerning who should win Best Actress. Mum says Sandra Bullock, which I suspect has less to do with Sandra Bullock's acting ability and more to do with the fact that her co-star Ryan Reynolds was half-naked in The Proposal.
Pfft.
I'm on Team Streep, otherwise known as The Team Who Will Win. Mainly because I know Meryl Streep is a great actress, but also because I love her so much that I sometimes have dreams about the two of us running away together. Oh Meryl. How can you not love Meryl Streep? I do. I love her. She could literally take a dump on the hood of my car and I would still love her. In fact, it would probably make me love her more.
Anyway, I sure hope she wins, because I've got 10 dollars riding on it and a recent bank account statement that reads:
Opening Balance: -$43.30
Deductions: $4.00 (monthly ATM fee)
Closing Balance: -$47.30
Sigh. Oh well.
Now, about Steve Martin and Alex Baldwin hosting. I'm all for Steve Martin, because to be frank, I'm happy he's still alive. I swear that guy has had white hair since I was like 5. He's gotta be pushing 90, right? But Alec Baldwin I'm not so sure about - he kind of totally scares the bejeezus out of me. I wish Ellen was hosting. As in Ellen DeGeneres, not my friend Ellen Fletcher. Although Ellen Fletcher would be pretty awesome...perhaps they could host together, and Meryl Streep could be the DJ. Can you imagine?
Anyway.
The only thing I want more than for Meryl Streep to win is for James Cameron to lose. Someone needs to knock that you-know-what off his high horse. Plus you can totally tell he expects to win, which increases the likeliness that he'll make this face when he doesnt:
Suck it, James Cameron! Oh, and ps, Avatar was totally predictable!
Stay tuned for my post-Oscar blog tomorrow. Until then!

Hey crew,
So first of all - the reason I haven't been blogging is because my laptop finally carked it this week. Wait. Is that the correct spelling of 'carked'? See, if I still had a laptop, I could dictionary.com these things. As it is, I'm stuck on my parents ancient desktop, which is so old and creaky it can barely handle me typing 85 words a minute. I swear, the back of it is like smoking right now.
Anyway.
Whats been up? I went to coffee/shopping/to the movies with Mel (Amon) yesterday/last night. Wow, backslash overload. But yeah, Mel. Okay, one reason I love Mel (among many others), is because whenever I'm with her, stuff like this happens:

Mel: (Seeing a poster for Dear, John on the wall) Look! Channing!
Jacki: (Pointing to my own ass) That's where Channing likes it!
Mel: What?
Jacki: Don't you remember that time we found out (at this point the lift doors open just in time to allow 6 people see me saying) Channing Tatum was a bisexual, and we kept doing that?
People In Lift: (Stunned silence)
Mel: Oh yeah. Hey, going down?
People In Lift: (Stunned silence)

Haha. My life is awesome.