Blythe Spirit

The Winners’ Circle

Last year we had 51 participants; this year, 27. I was remiss in sending my usual rounds of prodding emails because I was busy screwing up our family vacation and eating fried squid. Forgive me.

However, those of you who participated made a rousing set of predictions. It’s too bad for Julie Christie and Cate Blanchett (and fortunate for Marion Cotillard and Tilda Swinton) that you aren’t more prescient. A few of you were saved from humiliation by a culinary rat and/or Jason Bourne. Those of you who chose songs from “Enchanted,” (a certain trash-talking film school graduate included) should really run off and watch the “Falling Slowly” video on YouTube a few more times. (Although I just found out that she is 19 years old and he is 37 and they’re a couple in real life, which is a little eyebrow-raising but who am I to judge? Then I learned that they met 6 years ago when she was 13 and, well, I’m just trying to ignore that I know that.)

Each of our BIG WINNERS, Katie and Mel (who won the grand prize of a handsome Oscar the Grouch t-shirt in 2006 and came in second in 2007), will receive $25 toward the Threadless T-shirt of her choice. I expect photos.

The few, the proud, the participants (and their scores) in this year’s Oscar pool (aka BOP*):

Katie – 13
Melanie – 13
Courtenay – 12
Karl – 12
Kristen – 12
B. – 11
Britten – 11
Sandi – 11
Scott – 11
Tom – 11
Anna – 10
Christina – 10
Kylee – 10
Aubrey – 9
Chad – 9
Korie – 9
Stacey – 9
Erica – 8
Jeff – 8
Megan – 8
Mike – 8
Tracy – 8
Abby – 7
Daniela – 7
BelgianWaffle – 6
Whitney – 4
Francie – 4

*Blythe’s Oscar Pool

Oscars 2008: Better Late Than Never Edition

-I love a nice black dress (Jennifer Garner) or a pretty red one (Katherine Heigl) but enough is enough. I actually had an uncharacterstically complimentary thought about Cameron Diaz simply because she wore pink.

-Did you see Gary Busey accost Ryan Seacrest and Jennifer Garner on the red carpet? I’ve read that he might have been drunk, but based on past behavior, I think he is just CRAZY. And isn’t it awesome that he gets to go to the Oscars? It gives me hope.

-Fashion Favorites: Keri Russell (Gwyneth should have hired her tailor the year she won to get that pink Ralph Lauren dress to fit this well), James McAvoy’s wife (I’ve decided to embrace her vs. vilifying her as a rival), Marion Cotillard (She’s French, she can pull off that fish dress.), Nicole Kidman (The black dress was perfect with that fantastic necklace.)

-Fashion Least-Favorite: Jennifer Hudson should take the advice of some of my more buxom friends (because I clearly have no personal experience in this area) and note that halter(ish) necklines do not flatter The Girls at their most bulbous. She looked gorgeous from the neck up, however.

-Overall there weren’t any complete disasters (even Tilda Swinton because she is just so herself, it works for her) because everyone played it safe. Oh, except John Travolta, who looked like Dracula. I hope that hairdo was for a role.

-Is it weird that I thought Daniel Day-Lewis looked kind of hot with those earrings and the wavy hair?

-The best acceptance speeches are always from people for whom English is not their first language; their sentiments are so heartfelt and charming. Do you think there’s any chance that I am charming in German?

-I was neutral on Miley Cyrus until now, but boy do I suddenly think she’s annoying, and that’s just after a five-second Original Song introduction.

-Jack Nicholson either forgot to send his bribe to the seat assigners or else he was slated to sit next to Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem swapped seats for her safety.

-I was glad to see ‘Juno’ win the screenwriting award – it’s the consolation prize for smart movies that Academy voters just don’t see as Big Enough to win Best Picture. I finally saw it last week. I though it was sweet and funny (to those who say teen pregnancy shouldn’t be funny, I say go watch an after school special. Anything can be funny if it’s done right). Of course, I had some nits to pick. The only young actor I believed when that crazy dialogue came out of her mouth was Juno’s best friend. And I did not buy the romance between Juno and Paulie. He wasn’t cute and nerdy (believe me, I can spot cute and nerdy from a mile away, I’m still pissed that the nerd with the horn-rimmed glasses didn’t make the top 24 in American Idol), just kind of boring, and not at all the sharp-witted, funny person that someone like Juno should have gone for. Would I feel differently if I’d seen Michael Cera in SuperBad?

-Hooray for the songwriters from “once.” And did I read some gossip somewhere that said they’re really a couple? Even if they aren’t, that’s what I choose to believe.

Oscar pool results will be posted later. Sorry to make you wait. I promise the prizes will be worth it.

Oscar Pool

Don’t forget, your entry is due at midnight.

Oscar Pool Part Drei

Oscar pool: Part Drei

In solidarity with the striking screenwriters, I thought about canceling my usual Oscar pool and asking all of you to boycott reality television instead. And then I figured that would mean I would probably have to refrain from blogging about American Idol, and we can’t have that.

So, it’s time for my third annual Oscar pool/poll!

Just fill out this form:
Blythe’s Oscar Pool
and submit it by midnight wherever you are on Friday, February 22, 2008.

Yes, indeed, there will be prizes.

Last year’s results
And the results from 2006
A great Oscar info site

Massage Therapy

I started a heartfelt post about Britney Spears and how fame is her drug (she is DATING A PAPARAZZO, people, you can’t make this stuff up). I mused about how bizarre it must be to learn that, when another celebrity dies (and I won’t even mention how that made me sad even though I was not a huge fan, but what a waste. I can’t quit you, Ennis delMar) people react by saying, “I figured it would be Britney next.” Though a horrified part of me thinks she is in such a bad place that just seeing her name in the paper again gives her another hit.

And we thought Michael Jackson had taken celebrity to its lowest common denominator. He still has her beat, but she’s going off into a completely different direction.

ANYWAY, I was going to try to be more coherent than this, but then I read the following:
Masseuse called Mary-Kate Olsen before 911
and really, doesn’t that just tell you all you need to know about crisis management in Hollywood? If I ever find a dead body, I’m going to grab my cell phone and give John Stamos a ring, because that Full House cast, they know how to get somebody out of a jam.

Double Feature

Our weekend was busy and rainy and included a trip through Nurnberg’s famous Christmas market or, as I like to think of it, Nurnberg’s famous mob of tourists drinking hot wine and standing around. I have the luxury of being able to re-visit the market on a weekday when there are fewer tour buses and no lines at the bratwurst stands. I’m looking forward to it.

There’s no better way to spend a rainy Sunday afternoon than watching movies, so I accomplished a double feature yesterday. Katie and I caught “Atonement” at the theatre. I started the book a few years ago but never finished it because I couldn’t stand the weight of impending doom every time I picked it up. The movie also has the doom factor but it’s much easier to take for a couple of hours than for days on end. I loved its visual grace and complex story and characters. James McAvoy is my latest movie star boyfriend so that helped it along too. Keira Knightley bugged me less than usual and I wasn’t too bothered by the few THIS IS CINEMA moments the director indulged in. The best review I can give is to say that I’m still thinking about it 24 hours later which, to me, makes it a good movie.

Then I came home and watched “Elf” on TV. I’d never seen it before and I’m not a big Will Ferrell fan but even his scenery chewing (he is the new Jim Carey, we can only hope he finds his own Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) couldn’t ruin the charming story and great details. I’m glad to know the North Pole really is exactly like those stop-motion holiday specials of my youth.

Livin’ On A Prayer

Dear Chuck Klosterman,

I tried to find your email address so I could send this letter directly to you, but I’m going to post it here instead. I imagine you’ve tracked down all the thirty-something bloggers from small towns like yours and that I’ll receive a comment from you soon (fingers crossed).

I’m 2/3 through your first book, Fargo Rock City. This is problematic because my master’s degree thesis is due in just two weeks, but I can’t seem to stop reading your social commentary about small town America in the 1980′s as it relates to heavy metal bands. While my thesis topic does relate to small town America, it does not include an analysis of power ballads, so reading your book doesn’t really count as research.

You seem like a cool guy who might do me a favor. Well, actually you seem cool now because you have published four books and write for Esquire. You probably were one of the kids in school who initially scared me with his long mullet and Iron Maiden t-shirt (DEVIL MUSIC said my Young Life leaders). But eventually I sat next to you in World History and realized you were hilarious, even though I was surprised you spoke to me in the first place considering how much Duran Duran and George Michael I listened to at that point. So yeah, you’re a nice guy. Could you call my thesis advisor and let him know my thesis will be late? And that it’s your fault?

Because I guess living in a small town meant that I absorbed waaaay more metal music than I intended to. It was probably some kind of backward incantation by Nikki Sixx that caused me to memorize all the lyrics to “Lick It Up” and “Crazy Train.” Or maybe I accidentally watched a few episodes of Headbangers’ Ball.

Anyway, thanks for writing such a kickass book. I really appreciate your ironic use of umlauts in the subtitle, especially now that I live in Germany and know what an umlaut is supposed to do. And I’m blaming you if I never get my master’s degree.

Sincerely,
Blythe

PS
This is still killing me (P. 21):
“Listening to Clapton is like getting a sensual massage from a woman you’ve loved for the past ten years; listening to Van Halen is like having the best sex of your life with three foxy nursing students you met at a Tastee Freez.” Yeah, we used to have a Tastee Freez in my town too.

THEO’S BREAKFAST SOUNDTRACK: Cross Roads : Bon Jovi

The Breakfast Show

I’m not someone who knows about music, or who knows musicians, or who has heard of that band, or who shows up at a club at midnight because so-and-so is staging a secret show. If you doubt me, just recall that I bailed on seeing Gwen Stefani because I found out there wouldn’t be chairs at her concert.

However, my life has a soundtrack and it is important to me. Most of the time that soundtrack is hideously lowbrow. For example, the first album that rolls off my iPod is usually from .38 Special. (Shout out to all the “Hold on Loosely” fans out there!) I love to sing along to my favorite songs so much that I go to the trouble of learning all the words. And it irritates me when other people (Hi Jeff!) sing the wrong words to “Hey Mama” by the Black Eyed Peas. I love to dance around the apartment, and slap the dashboard of the car, and pretend I’m Britney. (RIP Britney’s dignity, by the way. I really feel for her, and her kids, and her various bodyguards/manservants/exhusbands.)

Now, parents all have dreams for their children. Mine is that Theo will learn to love real music (SHUT UP, Adam Ant is real music), and that he will enjoy dancing around the house with me to something besides “Fruit Salad” by The Wiggles. (It’s OK to hate me, parents, because I’ve put that infernal song in your head for the rest of the day. Yummy! Yummy!) I’m starting early on this project by exposing his tender ears to the tunes on my iPod every morning during breakfast. So, while he’s eating his bananas (B-A-N-A-N-A-S), he’s being subliminally indoctrinated by Fiona Apple. This has the added bonus of reuniting me with some long lost music that I’d kind of forgotten was lurking outside my usual playlist rotation. It even inspired me to buy some new music last week.

Why do you care? Because, you lucky things, I’m going to share our breakfast soundtrack with you every day this month. Most of the time it will just be a sweet little one-liner at the end of the post, like this, which we listened to this morning:

THEO’S BREAKFAST SOUNDTRACK: “If I Could Turn Back Time: The Best of Cher”
(You should rush out and download “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves” right now.)

Land of the Living

I used to have time and energy to think about the point of my posts and come up with “themes” and “structure” but I’ve completely given that up in favor of actually keeping things up and running. So those of you who want quality writing might want to look elsewhere. (For example, my friend Katie has just posted a message to her rebellious teenage washing machine, and mimi smartypants is judging the other soccermoms, and both posts will make you laugh.)

For the rest of you who are just lazy enough to stay here:

-One week ago I went to bed with a bit of an ache in my shoulders and finally, finally, after a week of various levels if ick, I woke up this morning feeling like a human being is supposed to feel. That is, I didn’t have to give myself a pep talk before opening both eyes simultaneously. Thanks for asking.

-I didn’t see any really badly dressed people at the Emmy awards, besides Terry O’Quinn, but seeing him win was like watching my sweet ex-Shriner childhood next door neighbor up there, so I won’t insult his hot pink shirt. The woman all looked spectacular. A few hair missteps, yes (Kate Walsh, did you come straight from your new marital bed? And Ellen Pompeo, I’m not quite sure what to think.), but all in all the ladies glowed and the men were dapper. See how good I’m feeling, how cheerful?

-Taking photos of my clothes every day has been so eye-opening. I’ve always known I was not curvy or fashionista but I didn’t realize I walk out of the house every day looking like a teenage boy. I like to think I used to try harder when someone was paying me money to dress up, but did I? September is difficult, anyway, clothing-wise, since I haven’t given up on my summer wardrobe but it’s too cold to wear all my flirty skirts and bare legs and short sleeves. Maybe I’ll try this photo project again in November or January or something and I won’t look like such a loser.

-The scooting has commenced, with the crawling not far behind. Be Afraid.

With a Bullet

I have three or four posts swimming around in my brain whose points are blurring as the days go by. It is clear that most of them will never see the light of day unless I condense them for you here:

-I’m not sure what it is about this photo that so mesmerizes me. Yeah, the guy’s a hottie, but a little grungy for my taste (especially after seeing him with his band, all very Black Crowes (Note to Sandi, you might want to investigate this)). But every time I see it in a magazine, it causes me to pause and contemplate his brand of attractiveness.

-The two-year anniversary of our arrival in Germany was last week. It’s the week of 9/11 which is a good reminder, when I start getting philosophical about the passage of time and hardship and transition and anniversaries, to get some perspective and feel grateful.

-It’s a good thing I have no time to focus on such things, or Jessica Simpson would have a letter in her mailbox (or on this blog, at least) addressing her father’s disturbing morph into, well, Jessica herself. He used the royal “We” when addressing a question about a porn-star movie role offered to his little girl:
“We were promised we would win an Oscar with that,” says [Joe]Simpson, 49. “I was like, ‘Eh, we’ll just buy a [statue of a] little man and keep our clothes on.’ “
Jess, he already broke up one marriage and “managed” your sister into a lip-synch hoedown on SNL. Maybe it’s time to grow up and get far, far away from your dad who seems much too focused on his daughter’s sex appeal (eeew), despite the fact that They turned down the naked role. Which is fortunate for all of us, because, well, Joe Simpson, naked? (Are you following my train of thought? Me neither.)

-We watched a lot of golf this weekend, especially the Solheim Cup (women’s version of the Ryder Cup for those of you who know what that means). Why do American women, even highly skilled, professional, competitive women, revert to tattooing little flags on their cheeks and wearing matching red, white and blue scrunchies in their hair when they join other women in a cause? I can ridicule this because I was in a sorority and I used to spend my Sunday afternoons puffy painting Greek letters on plastic tumblers instead of completing my Philosophy papers. I know, at least they behave themselves on the course, unlike the men who get all testosterone-y (the San Francisco? treat)and lose all decorum. But good grief, apparently estrogen + team pride = friendship bracelets. Unless you are European, where you don’t have friendship bracelets, or scrunchies, just Annika Sorenstam.

-Emmy Awards tonight. I will not be staying up until the wee hours to watch them live, but I plan to view the replay tomorrow evening. I haven’t seen any of the nominated shows, of course (except, good gravy, is ER still on the air?), but isn’t it all about the fashion anyway?

-Someone just found my blog by searching “shaun cassidy in leather pants” and really, that’s why I started this thing in the first place.