At the risk of jinxing myself I must report to you that as of today 0219 hours, I have not gotten sick.

I am sure that as soon as I finish this blog a wave of nawzeeahh will come over me but right NOW I am jim dandy. Cool, eh?

Was it just me or were the Academy Awards a bit of a snoozer this year? And I get the whole time constraint thing but it was a bit awkward to have people popping up and accepting their awards all over the theatre, like an Oscar whack-a-mole game.

My favorite dress was Charlize Therons blue cotton candy number. Over the top but oh so Southern Belle! She looked like a birthday cake and I loved it.

Least fave was Natalie Portman in that weird Greek number. It looked like it was made of crepe paper, and when she sat down she probably had to fold it first. Weird colour, too.

Glad that Jamie Foxx won. After going through hell with "Ray" in the background of my life on Friday night, I really felt like he and I connected. His speech was nice and I loved that his little daughter accompanied him. But now, of course, I need to know the story. What happened to that little girls mother and Ray? I mean, Jamie?

Since I saw no movies this year, I can barely comment on anyone deserving anything. But I can comment that Hilary Swank's dress looked a little like she was playing sexy lady dress up with a pair of blue sheer drapes. I guess it was different, but there was a quality to the fabric that bugged me. Not Natalie Portman origami paper dress annoying, but H's dress gave me that feeling you get when you would play in the sand for a long time.

What's with me and the fabric textures? You'd think I went blind at seven years of age and had to rely on feeling everything to get around. Or just that because I saw NO movies, (except Ray) all I can do is find things to say about the clothes.

Rene Zellweger has a problem. She looked terrible, waay too thin and pale, like she had fell into a vat of flour and then had someone wrap red satin around her as tightly as possible. She should have measured that flour out and made a batch of cookies for herself.

I kind of wish Johnny Depp would get over himself. The artist/french/evasive/non-Hollywood thing is getting old. You see a guy like Leonardo Dicaprio and how he carries himself and answers questions with a direct eye and it reminds me of the old time movie stars, like Cary Grant or Gene Kelley.

All five nominated songs were crap. At least, the way they were performed last night they were crap. Maybe the first song was good but I couldn't stop looking at Beyonce's hospital yellow eyeshadow. Antonio Banderas sounded like a spanish cat in heat when he did his song. (Maybe he is stressed out at having to pay for yet another set of boob implants for Melanie. Did you SEE those flotation devices? Run from the hills!) The lead singer from Counting Crows was way off. And the other two Beyonce pay cheques were not memorable at all.

I did like Morgan Freeman's speech. That guy is just great.

Chris Rock was alright. Played it pretty safe, I thought. The best part was when he interviewed people about the movies and none of them had seen any of the nominated films but they all got excited when he asked if they had seen White Chicks. Ha.

Alright, well, I could yammer on all day, but I better go at least make an attempt at picking up a few things around here.

Toodle oo Fu Man Chu.

A.