Life isn’t fair. Just look at the 2016 Oscars. There comes a time when you draw the short straw. Call it character building. Undoubtedly, this will happen more than once. Call it the Law of Averages. Maybe it will happen over and over again. Call it Karma.
When you’re not on the receiving end of the short straw, it’s just buckets of fun to watch, in a purely selfish, childish, perverse sort of way. The Golden Rule being, as long as nobody gets hurt. Like someone tripping into a pool vs making a face plant on a sidewalk. Or someone trailing toilet paper on her shoe vs having the entire back of her skirt stuck in her pantyhose, while not wearing underwear.
These life gawking events are hilarious. You can’t help but roar with laughter. Inside you’re snickering with glee, Thank God that’s not me!
Come Oscar Night, most of America, gathers to watch Hollywood’s darlings strut their stuff. Nobody cares about the men in their tuxes, with the exception of Mark Ruffalo in his blue tux.
Don’t tell the Big Irishman, hubby, light of my life, ball and chain, but I may have to change my home screen. Just the time out picture, not the static home screen picture of us arm in arm on the beach.
Let’s face it, the Academy Awards are about watching the women! It’s all about the dress, the jewelry and the hair.
Next, we love watching the presenters. Usually, there’s a previous winner paired with a previous nominee, or a pair of winners or a pair of nominees. They recite bad lines and pretend to be having fun. I’m always surprised how many actors flub the presenting part. They’re reading from a teleprompter for God’s sake, why can’t they get it right?
More importantly, I’d love to know who’s responsible for pairing up the presenters?! Talk about winners and losers! Talking about drawing the short straw!!
I gasped out loud when I saw Charlize Theron walk on stage with Emily Blunt. Ok, easy readers, spare me, the Emily is pregnant and that’s not fair, comments. Emily glowed in her baby girl pink, spaghetti strapped gown by Prada. But let’s face it Charlize Theron would look gorgeous in a burlap sack. Let alone, decked out in a fire engine red, slit to her belly button, Dior creation.
Poor Em had to be thinking, what did I do to deserve this?
Why couldn’t I have been paired with Whoppi in her re-purposed, dyed black, bridesmaid dress with the weird octopus bracelet crawling up her wrist?
Or better yet Amy Poehler in her ghastly Andrew Gn muumuu? Amy looked like she was wrapped in a black velvet poster from Spencer’s Gifts.
This falls squarely into the face plant vs trip in the pool analogy. I did not chuckle with glee. My heart ached for Emily. It would have been tough, no, devastating enough, to stand next to the blond bombshell on her best day.
Heck, Charlize Theron looks hot, even with her shaved, greased covered head in Mad Max!
Never the less, the lady with the short straw, raging hormones and all, held her head high and didn’t flub her lines. Emily Blunt deserves an Oscar for showing us how to pull it off graciously. Bravo!