My Potluck's Guest List Was Especially Prestigious This Year

DINNER PARTY!

Since the Oscars have been such a boon to this site's traffic, I'll continue to write about them. Forever. Or not, since I'm already pretty much over talking about last night's festivities after spending 5+ hours shifting between tearing down/lauding Hollywood's best and brightest with a roomful of the bitchiest people I know some dear and close friends.

And I am fully aware that this post is coming a little bit late considering the torrent of Oscar-talk that's been going on all day across the internets, but I've been at work all day, and while I'm there I have to actually, ahem, work.



We all dropped a collective load when Marion Cotillard won and after a quick room vote, it was clear that gays and straights alike wanted to make sweet passionate love to our little sparrow.



I'm pretty sure that everyone recognized how unfathomably awesome it was that Tilda Swinton won especially since she didn't really give a flying fuck. I, however, was the only one physically jumping out of my seat when they called her name. Face it, Tilda should've won for Orlando years ago.



Di-no-no Cody was everything I expected her to be (this includes her flashing her pikachu to all of America during her walk off stage) and while I thought I was holding back my vitriol vis-à-vis Cody during last night's ceremony, Leah most definitely did not agree.

Whatever. One too many There Will Be Bloody Marys will do that to a person. I still love you though, Leah, and your No Country Casserole was truly a show-stopper!



In related news, and in a weird twist of Kevin Bacon, I've discovered a conflict of interest in my one man campaign against El Diablo. It's recently been brought to my attention that a close friend of mine is quite fond of "Brook" and once upon a time had something of a bloggerific acquaintance with Di-no-no thanks to their mutual penchants for writing about their sex lives online. This sucks simply if for no other reason than I find it infinitely easier to hate people when I have absolutely no knowledge of them as real, and they only inhabit the friendly confines of my television set.

While Lindsay went on to be published in a collection of sex bloggers, Brook went on to win, well, an Oscar. Lindsay, incidentally, will soon be celebrating her blog's fifth anniversary which, combined with my impending birfday, makes me feel old. For real though, I wouldn't put it past Lindsay to achieve the same success as Di-no-no one day, but I'm fully confident she'd wear something far less cooch-revealing.

I DRINK YOUR OSCAR!!!

It's that time of year again, when we forget about all that truly matters in the world and spend three plus hours on a Sunday night watching the giant stroke-fest that is the Academy Awards. It's also a fantastic excuse to throw a potluck. Since every party must have a theme, well, Oscar potlucks naturally have to have themed food.

Two years ago was our first experiment with this format, which I think came out smashingly. I was the proud bearer of Ca-potato Casserole and Munich Madness German Chocolate Brownies, but Dojo really stole the show with his March of the Penguins-themed hors d'oeuvres.


March of the Black Olive Penguins

While the combination of black olives, cream cheese, mozzerella, and carrots left my stomach churning, his presentation was flawless, and that counts for a hell of a lot. I also recall that Leah made a pie that refused to solidify, so I guess it was more of a milkshake, but whatevs, it was delicious.

And speaking of milkshakes it looks like the unifying element of this year's awards is going to be milk; Cases in point:



There Will Be Blood's runaway hit of a catchphrase is "I DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE!" It's more than a little annoying that this line uttered by Daniel Day Lewis has already been profiled by Defamer and Best Week Ever, but the movie's pretty snazzy so whatever gets it attention, right?



I can remember at least two distinct instances in No Country For Old Men in which characters drink milk out of an old-fashioned glass jar. The first involves a cop, and the second involves a serial killer, but I digress.



Juno is about a pregnant teen whose breasts are slowly filling up with milk, end of story.



Atonement takes place in England where people drink lots of tea. As we all know, what makes the British special is that they put milk in their tea, and that's it.



The one conspicuous exception to this rule is Michael Clayton which, as far as I know, is lacking any images of, or references to milk or milk by-products. If you can prove me wrong, please do since I have no desire to see this film and I probably never will.

Let's hope we can continue this trend next year when Gus Van Sant's biopic Milk is up for noms.