Metal Meredith

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All Dressed Up with Tivo at the Ready

I am not a fan of the Oscars or any awards show for that matter. I am always uncomfortable with the forced banter. Anxiety grips me while I worry that the producer will cue the music in an attempt to cut an acceptance speech short like they did with Frank Sinatra. When an actor gets up and uses his time to go off script and campaign for goats for Malaysia, I cringe. I do, however, like to look at the outfits, see who looked good or bad.

I used to watch the red carpet interviews until the decided to get the most ignorant non-stars to do the honors. After the required “Who are you wearing”, they inevitably toss in some “So, do you have any words for Andy Griffith after losing his good friend Don Knotts?” The actors and actresses, not wanting to look heartless, smile and bend their eyes sympathetically as they deliver a heartfelt message to the ET cameras. If it were anyone of us ‘normal people’, we would have rolled our eyes into next week.

My guess is that it became not fun anymore after 9/11, when everyone was forced to look somber and wear simple pant suits because pomp wasn’t so hip when so many people lost their lives. And I understand. But now, we are back to the sass and anti-reality that is Hollywood. It is what gets us through the sad reality of our own lives. Instead of asking people what they think of the war in Iraq or the latest 3rd world country weather related tragedy, let us ask the celebrities to commit to be either on the side of Jen or Angelina. If you pick one, you cannot be friends with the other.

Think Jen got shafted? I am sorry, no more jaunts to the Italian Villa of George Clooney. Think Brad was jusitifed? Again sorry, any possible cameos on future projects of previous “Friends” cast members is strictly forbidden. After, let’s make everyone wear an armband or ribbon with designated colors of what sex Angie and Brad’s baby will be.

THAT would be a much more interesting Red Carpet scenerio.

All this hate really leaves me with one choice to get my entire Oscar dish, the internet. Since I have written this far on this unbelievably uninteresting topic, I will continue with a confession that you may have already guessed:

I. Love. Celebrity. Gossip.

In fact, I subscribe to many online sites that update on a daily basis, if not several times a day with new photos and dish. Just in case ou are closeted as I once was, I am listing a group of my favorite sites for you to enjoy while you TIVO the Oscars like me and fast forward through everyone but John Stewart.

Be warned that these are not PG sites, there might be some naughty words and pictures. It is the paparazzi afterall.

Pink is the New Blog
Defamer
Smart
Perez Hilton
The Superficial
Popsugar

If you have a little softspot like me for pop culture, you will get your fill by clicking on the links above, promise.

Therefore, I am inclined not to like her so much right now.

Vivienne is the anti-sleeper. She hates the Sandman. In fact, when she was younger and we suspected she was speaking Vietnamese, it was really a curse on the Sandman and all he stood for. I have been fighting her for an hour and a half to take a nap. She keeps telling me that she can’t close her eyes and she can’t put her head on the pillow and she simply cannot not talk.

Phil is a sleeper. He lurves sleep like he is seducing it. He hits the bed and lets out this semi giggle-groan-type noise that causes my eyes to roll every time. If left alone, he would only wake up to pee and eat. Of course, if you put a beer in his hand and a computer on his lap, he will stay awake for hours. But once he hits the bed, all is lost. Of course, I think he and Vivienne have some sort of sleep conspiracy going on, because he was the only one that could ever take a nap with her as evidenced in these photos:

I do enjoy my sleep, when it is uninterrupted and easy. When I wake up too many times from the snoring or from Vivienne’s protests, when the kittens decide to make my back their beds for an hour or so or when I am alternating between hot as Hades and sub zero, it isn’t as much fun and I would just rather be awake. My perfect night sleep is when Phil can’t sleep and heads downstairs to sleep on the sofa. ...Or when Nyquil is my friend.

Not Vivienne. My mother in law swore to me that kids will just sleep when they are ready. “Leave them alone,” she said, “they will take a nap if they need one.”

Not so, I later found out, not so with my little hellion.

Poor Poor Phil

Phil is looking for a new car. Not ‘new’ like new car smell and seats yet untainted by anyone’s butt cheeks, but ‘New to Him”. It isn’t to the point where a new car is necessary, but we really would be spoiled by having two cars that we both can drive and all 3 family members can ride in.

About a month ago, I told Phil that we should go ahead and look for a more reliable car than this one:

The truck has been good to us. It was a $1000 purchase that has far outlasted my lifespan prediction. Phil bought it to haul motorcycles like this one:

If nothing else, it was fun having everyone in town knowing Phil and his Nacho Cheese Truck. In fact, there have been many times that I can pick him out in a parking lot with no problems, tell someone exactly where to find us by looking for his car and Vivienne to watch for the “yellow truck’ to know when Daddy is home.

However, the truck leaks, the windshield wipers are working intermittently, the heat gave up a while ago and I am still unsure if it has a radio. So Phil and I started the great $1500 car search. He came up with a list of things he deemed important after checking out a few ads. He wanted something that was ‘kind of nice’ on the inside and I wanted something safe. Somewhere between then and now, my requirements stayed the same and Phil’s changed to be ‘something that has BMW on it’.

Now the price tag has increased from $1500 to $2500. The “reliable, safe car with a nice interior’ has morphed into ‘anything BMW (or something fun to drive.)”

If you happen to have a BMW sitting around without a home, please contact my poor husband who is in dire need of some manliness in the form of sexy Bavarian engineering.

PS. What we are trying to avoid is something like this: