Oscar Recap with a Twist

Meg thinks she’ll skip usual Oscar fashion recap. Almost everyone she saw looked good, and that wouldn’t give her much fodder. She did love how Melissa Leo dropped the f-bomb – and please, get over yourself Academy and ABC, it’s so refreshing when someone doesn’t pull a script from their cleavage to read off a mind numbing list of names.

Let’s do something a little more fun this morning, and imagine the Oscars as if members of the Family Circus had starred in the movies:

Wouldn’t Dolly make a kickass Natalie Portman? I’m pretty sure Dolly is the only real or fake character to ever achieve the perfect slicked back ballerina hair-do . The ultimate Black Swan.

Granted, Billy does not have a Mark Wahlberg physique, but he can stand up to the rest of his wimpy family. He’s a Fighter. He could take that dad with the Mr. Magoo glasses with one hand behind his back.

Billy has no qualms about asking what is rightfully his. Even if the King in The King’s Speech is all busy, well, with the Kinging thing.

Could our Billy be somewhat sinister? He could be if he’s trying keep Facebook for himself and not share with those twins that look like they are from Madame Tussaud’s wax museum.

And by the way, Meg does think that Billy from the Family Circus would have been WAY FUNNIER than James Franco, and much less squinty eyed. For God’s sake next year, get a comedian. Even if it’s a cartoon one.

I Can’t Help Myself Friday. Bieber Fever.

I believe I have a bad case of Bieber fever that needs curing, stat.

This week, Meg has seen Justin Bieber everywhere. He’s walking into her local pizza joint, he’s next to her at the gas station, and he’s in the Verizon store with his mother buying an expensive new smart phone. She especially was awestruck with Verizon Justin; who did not have any inkling what his gmail account user name was, but he knew he had 147 contacts. I guess Meg could see why he needed that smart phone, because Verizon Justin Bieber was an idiot. And so was his Mom for buying him that phone.

Do you sense Justin Bieber has caught the wrath of Meg this week?

Yeah, blah blah charity, and locks of hair on the Ellen show. Anyone wanna buy a box o’ Justin hair?

His fans even hacked Grammy winner Esperanza Spaulding’s wiki page:

Let’s check out Kathy’s Griffin’s eerie impression of Justin:

What’s the cure for Bieber fever? And how do you get the baby, baby, baby out of your head?

I think that calls for a vodka martini, straight up, and a couple of extra olives. Those kind with blue cheese. Medic, I’m ready for my drink! And whatever you do, stay away from those contagious with Bieber fever.

Where President’s Day Means Shopping

I usually avoid shopping venues on President’s Day, because it generally collides with school vacation week, and crazed people people bring their offspring to the mall to run wild. And even more crazed people buy resort wear that doesn’t fit them, because they are on their way to Florida to escape the 6 feet of snow that has been unceremoniously dumped on us this season. I hate being in dressing rooms when stuff like that happens.

So imagine Meg’s surprise when her husband casually said “would you like to go shopping?” “Umm, what kind of shopping? You hate shopping.” Well, he said “I was thinking we should replace that leather chair that’s falling apart and the sleep sofa, too. So, like furniture shopping.

OK, how long do you think it took Meg to get ready for that expedition?

a. 10 minutes to finish hair and makeup.
b. one half hour so she could finish her holiday Bloody Mary.
c. an hour because she needed to shower.
d. 90 seconds.

You are correct if you said 90 seconds. No one, I repeat no one, was faster than me to don a coat and gather a handbag as I was yesterday.

I could already feel the interior design juices start to flow as I strolled through Bean Town and the trapeze school (see Jordan’s furniture) to get to the escalator that led to the treasure. The first item was the chair. The rule was, no chairs with side handles, levers, pulleys or winches to get the chair into a reclining position. I would think in this era, technology would have made it possible to conceal such things, but apparently a large sub-section of men in America love themselves a big old handle on the side of their chairs. Or a motor. Yes, there was a whole section of chairs with remotes and men just reclining back and forth, back and forth. We sprinted past that section.

Our agreeable and low key salesperson showed us the perfect chair, and it was green lighted quickly. It was sleek, it reclined without any gear, and it was appropriate size. And off Meg’s husband went, while she got to play with fabric. Squeal! Meg picked a flawless microfiber fabric, which almost looked a little like bark; the texture and organic look had her swooning. The salesperson said “do you want to run it by him?” No, I assure you, he will be fine with whatever I want. As we headed over to sofa land, we spotted him and she was all like, “do you like this material?” Leo: “whatever she says“. Is that music to a woman’s ear or what?

The sofa transaction went just as smoothly, with more material choices, and again, the consummate combination was found. In less than a hour, the whole process was done and over. Meg was both elated and deflated, because although she found great bargains, she still had a shopping fest inside of her. She spied a really cool rug on way out and started waving – “look at this, it’s perfect, honey!”

But that was it, her husband was spent. He did tell her to head on back one day by herself and look at rugs to her heart’s content, though.

And that, my friends is how you turn a simple shopping suggestion into an afternoon of redecorating your house. Always be ready to sprint to your car!

Out On A Limb

No, no, I’m not writing anything dire or complaining today. HOORAY! (I see you fist pumping, Ron.)

Yes, Meg knows she was super whiny last week. Winter and some sort of hormone shift made for the perfect storm of Debbie Downer blogging. But you know what really cheered her up last week? She was listening to NPR, and they had a whole hour devoted to disco. That’s right D-I-S-C-O. And here’s the going out on a limb part. Meg L-O-V-E-D and still L-O-V-E’s disco.

Yes, she know there is a whole subsection of people that totally hate this music form. And could some of them could be you, blogger friends? Meg’s husband often says they would have never become husband and wife if they had met in that era. I quite agree, because he really isn’t the Tony Manero of dancers, as the case is with most men. But Meg and her friends knew tons of guys that loved to dance, and did that ever make for fabulous Friday and Saturday nights.

Picture young Meg armed with her Foxy Lady pass and strolling into the Chateau DeVille, where her friend, doorman Phil (who later was an Access Hollywood correspondent) welcomed their little entourage.

We would glide up to the bar and request White Russians, and sort of groove to the background music for awhile, and then jump on the dance floor, complete with mirrored ball. Meg usually was sporting some attire very similar to this:

That’s right, Danskin could take you from day to night, and the beach and back in an easy swirl of brightly covered polyester. Seriously kids, this was the look.

Meg also sported the the Saturday Night Fever look with this white dress:

Alas, the days of disco were short lived and before you could say 1981, disco was dead, and Meg was quickly re-purposed all of her Danskin outfits to become permanent beachwear.

Last summer Meg and her friend Anne took a stroll down memory lane and saw local gal Donna Summer rock the house in downtown Boston:

Donna Summer sings Last Dance!

It was good to know Donna still had it and so did Meg and her friends. Maybe disco wasn’t totally dead after all!

Listening to that NPR show gave Meg a little boost and a few laughs. So much so, she went to You Tube and found this awesome mash-up of all of her favorite songs:

Let me take you to Funky Town this morning! And get your groove on.

I Can’t Help Myself Friday. Make Them Go Away.

Some weeks the news is just so stupid that you just want to start making things up. Oh wait there’s a new channel that does that already!

A former employee of Fox News called the company a “propaganda outfit” that is determined to undermine the Obama administration and Democrats. In an ironic twist, they call themselves the most trusted name in news, but a “poll gauging public trust in TV news found that PBS was the most trusted name in news, while trust in Fox News dropped significantly over the last year.

I like how the Huffington Post imagines a opinion piece from Bill O’Reilly! I do believe that is the permanent state of his mouth; wide open and breathing hot air all over everything.

Onward to more hard hitting news:

Some weeks it’s hard to me to decided which Katie I’m going to pick on, but Katie Holmes takes the prize this week!

Suri would love a brother or sister to play with. I think it would be good for her. It’s hard to say no to her.

Good Lord, is she saying Suri runs the show in that house? And she gets to decide whether you will have another child? Actually, I thought it was Tom and his cult that made all those decisions, but good luck with that!

Apparently the “fog machine” caused some sort of illness to spread like wildfire at the Playboy mansion. The question is, what is respiratory a code word for?

Lately, Charlie Sheen is the gift that keeps on giving. While serving his self imposed mansion rehab, he took a little break and counseled the UCLA mens baseball team. His advice:

You can only use crack cocaine if you can keep it recreational.

Can we just ask who the stupid coach is that thought his presence would be a motivating moment for student athletes?

Let’s end with Jimmy Kimmel, who is spot on with this clip.

This weekend, tune out. relax and make it all go away. For next week, Charlie Sheen will be at it again.

Finding a Spark

Did winter ever creep up and slam you over the head, like it did me?

[ahn-wee, ahn-wee; Fr. ahn-nwee] –noun
a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom: The endless lecture winter produced an unbearable ennui.

Meg loves to pull this word out of her thesaurus once a year and revel in despair for a day or two. Let’s dish, OK?

First off, she was kind of pissed that she got a valentine card with a crazy orange haired lady that was holding a box of demolished chocolates. “HA HA honey, isn’t that card a riot”?, someone said. “Umm, no, actually I’m wondering WHAT ON EARTH you were thinking”! Flowers softened the blow, but it was still under her skin.

Secondly, snow on top of snow, wrapped in a big giant snowbank with a nice icy driveway on top. That would be the equivalent of a hot fudge snow sundae people. Good luck finding the cherry on top of that one.

Thirdly, sunny days. One might enjoy the rays of vitamin D beating down on them, but to me, I see dust everywhere and dirty windows I can’t do anything about til spring. How about a nice murky day Mr. Sunshine? That way I can view my house in filtered light like one of those special cameras they used to film Cher in Burlesque?

*Someone* in this house has it right, by pulling every comforter and soft surface together in a pile:

Rest long and hard, Jack.

For today’s inspiration, I give you Kalinda, from the CBS show The Good Wife.

Take that, winter.