Four girls, one awards night and umpteen packets of chocolate. What more could you want?
Yes, myself, sister Ang, and mummies-in-crime Frankie & Mango Lick gathered ourselves round ye ole television set to embark in an onslought of vocal bitchiness.
It wasn’t all nasty. On the positive side, we were touched and saddened to see that Mr Miyagi died, as well as that freaky guy from Ghost. And though Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s speech started off a little rocky, he more than redeemed himself by giving heartfelt thanks to his mother who “raised four kids alone, and that deserves congratulations.” I was already a PSH fan before that, now I’m an official convert.
However most of the evening comprised us using our mouths – either to stuff food into or hurl insults out of. Insert-shameless-Sex and the City-reference: I couldn’t help but wonder, is that all we watch The Oscars for?
Among our catty pearls of wisdom:
J-Lo: “Oh the hair…send the woman some Panadol!”
Charlize Theron: “At least she can use it as a pillow when she gets bored.”
Dolly Parton: “Holy CWA. She sounds like an old woman singing on helium.”
Keanu Reeves: “He looks like he’s been stung by something.”
Lauren Bacall: “She looks completely drugged…okay, we’d better not be too mean in case she has some disease. I’ll google her, and then be mean.”
Salma Hayek: “Is she putting on that accent? She looks hot, but her gown looks like she’s a breastfeeding woman who’s only emptied one side.”
Jake Gyllenhaal: “So cute but that hair: he’s like a Ventriloquists’ puppet.”
The musical presentation from Crash: “Slow motion interpretive dance? It’s a high school production with a big budget.”
Gees we’re nasty. We agreed that we were. But then we also agreed that seeing as they all get millions of dollars they can probably use a bit of humbling from a few women in Brisbane, Australia. We sure showed them, huh? HUH?!