Oscars

Growing up in LA, you couldn't help but know someone who was an actor/producer/writer/director/music editor "in the industry". Most of the time it seemed perfectly normal but now that I think about it, it did make for some remarkable childhood memories. Like when the Los Angeles Dodgers came to my friend Katherine's 10th birthday. Or when my schoolmate Michelle had a rollerskating party and Dorothy Hamill joined us.

As my mom reminded me back then, kids in Kansas don't generally get to say they showed off their freestyle moves to Dorothy Hamill. (Actually, what I really remember was how glad I was that I was wearing my jeans with a pink roller skate patch on my tush. I was super sure Dorothy was impressed.)

Inevitably I ended up dating the actor/producer/writer/director/music editors. I never got to a level where there were paparazzi pics of me with anyone (unless one shot in Teen Beat counts) but the experience was sort of surreal in any case. I mean, in Kansas, when the girls go out on dates do the guys say, "I'd order the tempura, but it's horrible for my skin and I've got an audition for a Crest commercial tomorrow."

I'm actually a second generation Los Angeleno so my mom and I have always had that in common. Did I ever tell you that Natasha Gregson Wagner could have been my stepsister? Anyway, it's a long story.

In any case, later in life I worked at Warner Bros. and got exposed to the more traditional Hollyweird stuff like learning the names and phone numbers of every agent in town by practicing with index cards, and remembering what execs were and weren't speaking to whom and why, and (of course) getting coffee for celebrities and getting screamed at when it wasn't non-fat-soy-with-whipped. So with all those fine skills, when I left the business what I was ultimately left with was... well, very little -- except an amazing talent for witty/snarky color-commentary during the Oscars and an impressive record of winning every Oscar pool I ever entered.

This is why it was so strange to be in my room at the Marriot in Boston tonight and turn on the TV and realize I completely forgot the Oscars were on. And I have no idea who's nominated. And I doubt I've even seen more than 3 of the movies.

Who'da thunk it?

You can't take LA completely out of the girl though. In only a few minutes, I'd ordered wine (yes mom, occasionally I drink alone and it's OK) and settled in for good night of solo snarking. I mean, did you see the look that Penelope Cruz gave Ellen after the insinuation that she was Mexican? ¡El horror!