Why I won’t be hooting at Meryl Streep
When the Oscar’s come to LA (well, my part of LA, which is the Hollywood part), everything shuts down. I mean, seriously. The street is closed. Events are cancelled. This is our Super Bowl.
I thought that I could fulfill my lifelong dream of hooting at Meryl Streep.
All right, so it’s not really a lifelong dream to hoot at Meryl Streep, it’s more of a last four days dream.
Anyway, I looked up tickets for the red carpet. They’re free. Which is nice. But, then there was this.
- Write a short essay explaining why you deserve to be chosen.
- Upload three photos: full length photo, real passport photo and a recent photo with friends.
- Complete a “Background Check” conducted by the Academy’s Security Team. A passport-type photo will be required.
I can understand the background check, but an essay? A full-length photo? A recent photo with friends? I don’t even think I have this stuff on my Facebook page. In response, here’s my essay on why I DON’T deserve to be chosen for the Academy Award Red Carpet Grandstand:
I don’t care about the Oscars. I really don’t. I just wanted the opportunity to yell at celebrities in their natural habitat; award shows. I wanted the chance to see Robert Downey, Jr. I’m not even sure he’s invited to this year’s Academy Awards. I wanted the opportunity to see how tall George Clooney is (he’s short, isn’t he? I bet he’s short). I wanted to Instagram a bunch of famous people and also the back of some guy’s head. I wanted to check-in on Foursquare at the Kodak Theatre (I live pretty close; I can probably do that anyway).
The only Oscar nominated movie I saw this year was Silver Linings Playbook, so if they don’t win any awards, I’m at a loss. There was something in French, right? I don’t even know. It was probably boring.
I have no appreciation for clothing. You could point out some famous designer, and I would have no idea who you were talking about. Tuxedos. Yeah!
To be honest, if I went anywhere, it should have been the Golden Globes. Or the SAG Awards. Or the Emmys. Because I *heart* TV.
Here’s a photo of me with a finger mustache.