Listen to This. Right Now. No, Really. Right Now.

I can’t remember how I originally heard about David Ramirez, but ever since I did, he’s been on obsessive repeat on my iPod.  My friend, Derrick, texted me a month or so ago and told me David would be playing at a coffee shop in OKC while I was home.  I was like--stop the presses, it’s a coffee date!

Derrick is lame and texted me two days before the show that he wasn’t going to be able to drive down from Tulsa for the show, but I was undeterred.  I mean, if there’s a place you can go by yourself and not look weird it’s a coffee shop, right?  Luckily, my childhood bestie, Listina, agreed to meet me, so I didn’t have to spend the night apologizing with my eyes to everyone in the coffee shop for taking up a two-seat table with my butt and a book.

So, you know when you listen to someone obsessively and then you hear them live, and you’re like WTF?  Well, this was not like that at all.  This was the opposite of that.  I kind of wanted to go up to him afterward and say, “I have been stalkerishly obsessed with you and your music for the last month.  I am completely in love with your words and am considering being your surrogate if you ever have the need.”  

So, here’s the scene.  There were approximately 23 people in the audience (which might more accurately be described as a congregation in this instance, as the whole evening was an intimate spiritual experience) including the baristas and a couple of people who actually wandered in for coffee.  I was like, “HOW IS THE ENTIRE POPULATION OF THE OKLAHOMA CITY METROPLEX NOT BEATING DOWN THE DOOR FOR THE CHANCE TO HEAR EVEN ONE SONG FROM THIS GUY?”  He’s that good.

Before the show started, we took a stalker picture with him, and he was totally nice to me despite the fact that I think I interrupted his pre-show meditation or something.

After the show, we had a short conversation about what a fantastic lyricist he is.  I may have said something about how I don’t understand how bands like Give Me My Nickelback can play shitmusic and make money and sell out stadiums, while someone like David Ramirez sings gut-pounding lyrics while strumming a guitar strung with heartstrings to a room of co-eds sipping mochas (and one 75-year-old woman whom I think was doing a crossword puzzle the entire time).  I can’t be sure because the whole conversation was a bit surreal for me, but I’m almost certain I left out the part about wanting to be his surrogate.

So, here’s the deal.  Please do whatever you can right now.  Like right this minute.  Don’t even finish reading my blog.  Go to his website and download his free live album, check out his tour schedule to see if you can go to one of his shows, and then go buy the rest of his stuff on Itunes.  I promise you won’t be disappointed.  He’s the real deal.

And for those of you who can’t be trusted to follow the above directions, here’s a taste of what he does:

Also, if for some reason someone from David Ramirez’s camp runs across this post, can you please tell me how I can get my hands (or ears) on the song he played Thursday night in OKC about heaven?  I was like...I don’t know this song, and then he said it was new.  So effing beautiful.

Good luck, Dave.  I’m sure this post is going to make you so famous that you’ll be questioning if the fame is all really worth it while you sleep on your piles of money.

3 Awesome Things You Should Know About of Musical Nature

Do you ever love something so much that you’re like “EVERYONE I KNOW SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THIS!”  And then you spend more time with that thing--it might be Danish blue cheese or Where the Wild Things Are (the book or the movie, either one) or a really comfortable dress (with pockets, of course!)--and you’re like “EVERYONE I KNOW MUST KNOW ABOUT THIS!”

Well, I do that frequently.  And the next step for me is naturally “I SHOULD BLOG ABOUT THIS!”  And then I start to question whether I should blog about it because I think “Does anyone really care about this?  Does anyone really want to read this?”

And then I’m like “OF COURSE!  BECAUSE THIS IS AWESOME!”

But then sometimes, I get to a point where I’m like “I’ve passed the point of needing to blog about this because SURELY everyone I know already knows about this.  I mean, how could everyone NOT know about this?  Its level of awesomeness dictates that OBVIOUSLY everyone already knows about this.”

But then I think “No.  On the off chance that even one of my friends missed this awesome thing, I must blog about this.  It could be the friend who has been out of the country for a month, or the one going through a bad break-up who is staying in bed all day, or the one covered in baby food and dirty diapers--maybe just maybe that friend somehow missed out on this awesome thing.”

So, that said.  Here are some thoughts about 3 awesome things of the musical nature you should know about if in fact you are one of those friends.

THE HEAD AND THE HEART

My friends from Seattle, Sarah and Kris, told me about this band a few months ago, and then in one of those fateful twists, they played in Charleston one night when my dad was visiting.  So, with a free babysitter and burstingattheseamstogotoaliveshow excitement, I rushed down to the Music Farm to hear them live.  They did NOT disappoint.  They weren’t even the opening band, and I still almost cried from the goodness.  Their entire (self-titled) album is the kind you can put on repeat whether you’re in the bathtub or in the car.  Don’t try to write with it on in the background, though, or you might find yourself throwing off the covers and jumping on the bed or doing one of those flailingdruggedouthippie dances through the house instead of pouring your heart out on the page.  Just a warning from personal experience.

Meet the band.

Meet Charity.

Meet Josiah.

Meet Jon.

And there were these pictures, too:

If you google the band name, you will find all sorts of buzz, but here are a couple of my favorite things I've found:

Here's the "Lost in My Mind" official video:

And here's a recording from SXSW this year:

THE CIVIL WARS

I don’t even know how I originally heard about The Civil Wars, but it took them so long to put out an album that I almost died from anticipation.  Their song “Poison and Wine” put them on the map months before they released Barton Hollow, and it’s so good that if they had pulled some kind of musical Harper Lee, and it was the first and last song they ever released, I’d still be happy.  There’s something about this music that is so gut-wrenchingly melancholy that you’d have to be a complete robot to not feel something when listening to it.  Even in the more happy hopeful tracks like “I’ve Got This Friend” and “To Whom It May Concern” which both revolve around longing for love, the hope is weighed down by sadness.  I can’t explain it really.  I mean, that’s my job as a writer, right?  To put it into words.  But I can’t.  Just listen, and tell me you don’t turn into some mushy emo version of yourself.

And here's what made them famous:

COMPANY OF THIEVES

Okay, so I got a text from Derrick a month or so ago that said, “You should check out Company of Thieves.  I think you would dig them.”  Or something like that.  I can’t remember his exact words, but I can assure you that the text was short and grammatically correct.  I jumped on Itunes and bought the album, telling him he owed me $8 if it sucked.  I haven’t always been a fan of bands with female leads--I know, I know--how anti-feminist of me to have dreams of being a rock star while harboring secret feelings of ick! when listening to female singers.  HOWEVER, I can say confidently that I feel like I should now pay Derrick $8 for turning me on to them.  I am hopinghopinghoping I can figure out a way to get up to Tulsa on May 1st for their show (and possibly a jam sesh with D so as to kickstart our rockstardom).  

Genevieve Schatz delivers much more powerful vocals than her little body would lead you to believe possible.  And Derrick was right about another thing--they won me over with their videos.  Totally.

Enjoy a little "Oscar Wilde":

And then there's this (my personal favorite off the album, Ordinary Riches), which is just really, really, really fantastic:

Here's to super duper aural entertainment for all of us!

Hello, Goodbye!

For every occasion in life, there is a Beatles song.  This one is one of my favorites.

People who aren’t in the military constantly say, “I don’t know how you do it!” to those of us living through multiple deployments mixed in with training for weeks or months on end.  Even though we are currently halfway through a six-month training during which I will not see my husband and our communication is extremely limited, the daily stresses of my life are relatively minimal--you might even consider my life somewhat charmed.  We have a routine, and having a routine helps create a bearable normal for all of us.  I am also lucky to be surrounded by a great group of women (and one man) who are going through the same thing I am, and their support is pretty phenomenal.  That’s how we do it.  

On a related note, my parents and MIL and SIL have been doing everything in their power to stop me from going insane, scheduling trips to visit to give me a break.  I so appreciate their help because I DEFINITELY need a break from 24/7 single-parenting.  (I didn’t realize how much I needed it until the last year, and the process of learning how to accept help from other people has been one of the most liberating experiences in my life.)  I am beyond blessed to have them in my life.  I needed to say that because the rest of this post is not very positive.

PART 1: THE RANT

A note about the big picture.  (And let me just say that I’m probably going to come across as a selfish bitch because by all appearances, my suburban life is nothing short of enviable--a veritable checklist of what every girl grows up wanting--loving husband, healthy children, fully-stocked house, dog...scratch that, I kind of hate my dog right now.)

A few days before Christmas I posted a nice little note about how something good had happened in our Air Force life.  After being under an immense amount of mental stress for several months, I felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

For those of you who haven’t had the privilege of hearing me rant about this for the last few months, we are supposed to PCS (I think this means permanent change of station?) sometime this summer.  Like summer of 2011.  Like a few months from now.

Back in November, I was only slightly freaking out when we found out that Scott would be attending a six-month training from January through June.  I mean, I could totally put the house on the market by myself with no help from my husband, while raising our children--also by myself.  I could also scout out a new house and get the boys enrolled in school at our next base without any help.  I’m Wonder Woman for God’s sake!  

In case you forgot.

After the initial panic, I gathered my flailing emotions, put on my big girl panties, and started planning.  I’d get a storage unit, pack a few boxes at a time, stage the house, and put the house on the market as soon as we found out where and when we were going to PCS.  You know, sometime in January (because SURELY we would have a place and/or date by then, right?) to give us plenty of time for the house to sell (FYI, the neighborhood’s average time to sell is seven months...ugh, and people are losing an average of $15,000...awesome).

So, as the other post outlined, we heard from the squadron commander that our situation was on his agenda.  That was December 20th.

It is now March 22nd.

We do not know where we are moving.

We do not know when we are moving.

My house is at least on the market.

There is no funny twist to this post.

I am just angry.

Very, very angry.

And bitter.

Very, very bitter.

To be clear, it is not our squadron commander’s fault.  I saw him at a potluck a few weeks ago, and the first thing he said was that he was sorry that something hadn’t happened on our PCS front.  It’s not really in his hands.  It’s in the hands of a different squadron commander--the one in charge of the squadron where my husband is training.  And you see--here’s the really fun part.  He can’t make a decision until congress (yes, like THE congress) approves something about my husband’s career.  And guess what?  Congress is on vacation.

One of my friend’s husbands said that we should never have had the expectation to know where we were PCSing and that this is pretty standard operating procedure these days for the program my husband is in.  Well, 

1. I really wish the higher-ups wouldn’t have told us in October that we would know pretty soon.
2. I really wish the friends of ours who have already gone through the program wouldn’t have told us that they found out before they even left for the program.
3. Standard operating procedure can kiss my ass.

Not knowing where we’re going means I can’t look for houses.  I can’t scope out the school situation.  I can’t plan for going back to school or looking for a job--which is certainly something I would love to see on the horizon at our next base.  I feel, as I often do in this Air Force life, that I am falling through the cracks.  Strike that.  I live in one giant crack.  And there is NOTHING.  I.  Can.  Do.  About.  It.

Except wake up every morning and take care of my children by myself, hoping for a four minute phone call from my husband possibly telling me that this waiting game will end at some point.  And the minute that happens, I will schedule a trip to our next base to find a new house/enroll Will in kindergarten.  Because you know--that’s the life stuff that still has to be done, even if the Air Force lacks the courtesy to throw me an effing bone.

And scene.

PART 2: THE RESOLUTION

So, I just put my mom and the boys on a plane to Oklahoma.  I’m following with the dog and our car tomorrow morning.  Within a week of getting our house on the market, I had Will enrolled in a preschool and Ben enrolled in a Mother’s Day Out (he puts his backpack on every morning and tells me he wants to “go to cool just like Will”).  I am in the process (a very easy one) of getting re-certified as a teacher in OK so I can sub at my mom’s school on the days the boys are in school.

It’s not only enough to make me feel like I’m getting a break from the frustration of my big picture life--it’s enough to get me excited about something for the first time in a long time.  I am going to be there when my friend, Sarah, gives birth to her third child.  I get to go to two different weddings for some of our childhood friends.  I’m going to help my dad organize his non-profit’s 12th anniversary fundraising dinner.  I’m going to get to spend actual face time with Derrick, so we can record some music together.  I’m going to see all my friends who have been nothing more than Facebook figments for the last few years without feeling the pressure of having to squeeze everyone in during a two-week trip.

It’s going to be a new normal, and temporary as it might be, I am really, really looking forward to it.

The last few days have been full of good-byes for us--lots of friends stopping by to give hugs and cry a little.  Even in my excitement about going “home” to OK, I do NOT want to downplay the difficulty of leaving these people I love.  Our Charleston friends have been rocks for us the last six years, and if I don’t stop typing right now, I will lose it, so I am not going to say anything else about this right now.

So, hello, Oklahoma!  And, good-bye, South Carolina!  Things are looking up.  I think.

I'm a Lyrical Gangsta

When I was much, much younger, I spent a lot of time writing poetry and songs--lots of really sappy love songs about falling in love with Prince Charming and such.  Very Taylorswiftian.  In fact, I wrote a song and sang it in my high school talent show (you could probably find a really embarrassing VHS tape of the performance in a closet at Edmond Santa Fe High School) and was then voted "Best Singer" of the senior class, which is a pretty lame category if you ask me (especially for Yale Scott, my male counterpart who should have been voted most likely to rock at life or something like that).  Anyway, I fancied myself a songwriter.

I don't know why I stopped writing songs--maybe because I grew into the cynical realist I am today, leaving the romantic idealist in my dust.  A few months ago, my friend, Derrick, messaged me on Facebook asking if I ever write poetry or songs. I told him that I didn't, but I could try.  Derrick and I met in college when we were part of the same Life Group--a college/singles Bible study group that met at our mutual friend, Lori's, house.  Until the last few months, I hadn't seen Derrick since we were in college--so somewhere around seven years.

I am so grateful to him for asking me to write for him.  Sometimes I write the lyrics and hum to him over the phone.  Sometimes he has music that is just waiting for words.  It's one of the best things in my life right now.  A million years ago (when I was romantic), I always thought I wanted a boy to write a song for and about me.  But, what I've realized over time is that what I really wanted was to write my own songs and have a boy put them to music.  This is much better.

So, here's a video of one of the songs we wrote.  FYI, ladies, Derrick is SINGLE!  SINGLE!  SINGLE!  (And I can vouch for the fact that he is nice and handsome and all those good things.)  If I can convince Derrick to send me more videos, I'll post more later.  I hope you enjoy listening as much as I enjoyed creating.

The Only Thing

No matter how I want you, you’re not really mine

You travel in and out of my life when you have the time

My thoughts in the morning, my desire late at night

So, so very wrong, so wrong that you’re right

And I can’t sleep

No, I can’t sleep

When everything else has got my head in the clouds and my back’s against a wall

You are the only thing that makes any sense at all

You’re the only thing I have to hold onto when I fall

You are the only thing that makes any sense at all

Two hours ago I felt the warmth of every heartbeat

The smell of your skin is wrapped up in these cold sheets

So, come back, please come back, come back to my bed

Help me quiet these thoughts in my head

Cause I can’t sleep

No, I can’t sleep

No matter how I want you, you’re not really mine

Guilty as Charged

When I was sixteen, I got pulled over for going 88 in a 45.  I know.  Stupid.  Which is why 16-year-olds should not be allowed to drive by themselves.  I went to court and was given an appropriately stiff judgement.  The judge had me keep a traffic violation journal (in which I was to record 88 traffic violations I witnessed before our next court date).  I owed my parents 12 hours of “home service,” and I couldn’t count any of the chores for which I was already responsible.  (I ended up doing a lot of my parents’ laundry.)  I also had to pay a $300 ticket--which was basically what I made in an entire month of working my after school job as a tutor.  I met all the requirements in order to keep a reckless driving charge off my record and to keep my license.

After that, I had an on-going love affair with multiple police departments, as I was pulled over multiple times exceeding the speed limit.  Once I was even pulled over twice in one week by the same officer on the same stretch of road.  Insanity.  In all of the instances, I paid large fines and went on my way because I totally deserved it.  In fact, if I remember correctly, I think the officer who pulled me over twice lowered both of the speeds to save me a little money on the tickets.  Pretty nice considering I obviously had not learned my lesson.

As I matured, and especially after having children, I learned to sloooooooow down (I know, I know, it’s the law) and started paying more attention.  The only time I have been pulled over in the last five years was when I drifted a stop sign on base the first month we lived in Charleston.  I was also on my cell phone, so I got four points on my base record and was told that if I acquired ten points, my driving privileges on base would be revoked--which would have been pretty miserable considering I lived on base at the time.

Growing up, my cousin Cody was my hero.  At 11 months older than me, he was the one I looked to to teach me how to hit a baseball, how to effectively capture bad guys, and how to pee standing up.  I always tell people he was the first boy I ever loved until I found out tragically that you can’t marry your first cousin.  Cody played baseball and basketball and football, and then (to spite his father, I think) went to college on a cheerleading scholarship.  After graduating with a degree in criminology, he became a police officer.  So, he is STILL my hero.

My best friend’s husband is a police officer, and one of my new-but-feels-like-I’ve-known-her-forever friend’s husband is a police officer.  I have nothing but the utmost respect for the men and women who patrol our streets, respond first to emergencies, and risk their lives by boldly confronting society’s biggest horrors.  

So, last Tuesday when I saw flashing lights in my rearview, I immediately thought, “Oh, I better get out of the way as soon as I can!”  The traffic was bumper to bumper, and I was stopped at a stoplight behind approximately ten cars.  There was no way for me to get to the median, and there was no parking lot to turn into.  By the time I actually pulled out of the way, several minutes had passed.  (Several minutes of Ben yelling in the backseat, “Peace car, peace car, peace car, peace car, peace car!”

Except I didn’t pull out of the way.  Because he followed me.  It wasn’t until this moment that I realized I was being pulled over.  A bit flustered, I reached for my license and registration, relieved when I saw that I had responsibly switched out our insurance information, so it was up-to-date.

As I waited for the officer to approach my window, I started scrolling through the possibilities--I knew the tag was fine because we always change it in the summer.  I didn’t think any of my lights were out...

Officer: Good morning, ma’am.  Do you know why I pulled you over?

Me: No, sir.

Officer: I clocked you going 58 in a 45 back on the bridge.

Me: Oh, I’m sorry.  I had no idea.

Officer: (hiking up his pants) YOU...HAD NO...IDEA?

Me: Uh, that’s what I said. No, sir.  I didn’t.

Officer: Is there a reason it took you so long to pull over?

Me: Um...I don’t really appreciate your tone.  Are you really asking me this?  Were you not stuck in the same line of cars as me?  I mean, I put my blinker on to let you know I was pulling over as soon as I could. I pulled over as soon as I had an opportunity.

Officer: I’ve been following you since you were on the bridge.  You had ample opportunity to pull over.

Me: I’m sorry.  I just...I didn’t...I just saw you when we turned on Old Trolley.

Officer:  You just saw me?  (Taps rearview mirror four times slowly) You not using these?  That thing’s like a rolling gumball machine (thumbing at his squad car), kinda hard to miss.

Me: Well, officer, you see, my two-year-old was screaming, “Different movie!” from the backseat, so I turned up the music to drown him out--especially because the ipod had just shuffled “Working Day” off of Lonely Avenue--have you heard Lonely Avenue?  It’s really great--much better than the critics are giving it credit for--and “Working Day” is a particularly good song.  A real pep up your morning with some smug-laughing-to-self-moments.  Anyway, the music was loud, so I didn’t hear your siren, and I wasn’t looking behind me because I was hoping my child would stop screaming if I just ignored him--PLUS, drivers in South Carolina are all like sixteen-year-old versions of me, so I was focusing on the road AHEAD of me just in case the car in front of me slammed on its brakes to let someone into the flow of traffic (which by the way, is it possible that you could give tickets out for that?), which in fact, did happen.  So, no I didn’t notice you behind me until the moment I told you I did.  Yes, sir.  I pulled over the first chance I could.

At that point, I watched him waddling back to his car in the rearview mirror.  Did that just happen?  Did he TAP the mirror at me?  Did he really just ask me why I didn’t pull over sooner like I’m some kind of CRIMINAL trying to evade the police on a Tuesday morning between taking my kid to school and doing laundry?  Really?  He’s just lucky this isn’t a foot race because I COULD WASTE HIM, and I’m really slow.  How about I give you a ticket, Officer, for being unfit for duty?  How about that?  How about you take your sarcasm and your tap-tappy finger and get back in your rolling gumball machine and have a nice day?  How about that?  I gritted my teeth and cursed him again for making me break out into an angry sweat before he came back to the car.

Officer: Well, Mrs. Johnson, here is your license back.  I went ahead and lowered the speed to save you about fifty dollars on the ticket.  Pay a little more attention next time.

Me: Thank you.

And then I repented of all my ugly thoughts and felt like the worstpersonintheworld.  I paid the ticket today--$81.88, a mere fraction of the money that I’ve spent on traffic tickets in the past.  I’m sorry, Officer Gumball.  I shouldn’t have been so mean to you, even if it was in my head.  Have a nice day, and thank you for serving the City of Summerville.

The BEST 2011 Golden Globe Review Ever Written While Eating Chips and Salsa

Okay, I was not going to write about The Golden Globes because I was feeling lazy, but five minutes in, I was like...I can’t believe I’m watching these by myself!  For the first time in about five years, I’ve actually seen most of the movies and shows that are nominated!  I’m not on Twitter even though everyone tells me I should be.  So, pretend you’re sitting here in my living room drinking wine and that I’m annoying you through the whole thing.  If you watched them, you might find this interesting.  If you didn’t watch them, you will think this is all complete nonsense, raving lunatic babble.

PRE-SHOW:

Is Ricky Gervais drunk already?

Whose idea was it to start with Natalie Portman?  Nothing else matters after seeing her beautiful self in that BEAUTIFUL dress.  (NP is so stunning that I nearly missed Olivia Wilde in the background fanning her dress.)

What’s on Mark Wahlberg’s face?  Oh, that is his face.

I love Alec Baldwin and his phony sincere head shake.  (I have an uncle who passionately hates Alec Baldwin, which makes for really interesting Thanksgiving dinners.)

I have said this before, and I will say it again, “Stop it with the eyeliner, Keith Urban!”

Oh no, Helena.  I LUV you, girl, but seriously.  This is a joke, right?

Sandy, Sandy, Sandy!  I don’t generally get on board with the one-shoulder jobs, but I think you look beautiful in EVERYTHING.  (Carson Daly is a complete d-bag.  WTH is he talking about?)

That sweet little Chris Colfer!  I hope that Julie Andrews granny gig works out for you.  

I wonder if Jesse Eisenberg gets tired of answering, “Have you ever met Mark Zuckerberg?”  As much I would like to say I would have dated someone like Matthew McConnaughey in high school, I totally would have dated Jesse Eisenberg.  For sure.

Julianne Moore is always, always, always stunning.  Real red heads are the best.

Matthew Morrison has less product in his hair tonight.  Good for you, Matt.

Jake Gyllenhaal.  I just...I just...I can’t say anything else.  Maybe this--can I have your babies?  Don’t ever shave your face. (Tiny glimpse of Blair Underwood--would also have your babies.)

Christina Aguilera--how did I miss that Burlesque was up for best film?  WTH?  Okay, okay, I didn’t see it because I thought it looked AWFUL.  Anyway, Christina, your girls look great.

Oh, Mr. Pink, I love you.  Does anyone else think Steve Buscemi looks a little bit dead?  (Ooh, ooh, ooh...more of Miss Natalie...gosh, that woman is beautiful.)

Angelina, I’m not going to make any tacky comments about who you are, but that dress is ridiculous.  And by ridiculous, I mean, you look like Oscar the Grouch is going to Amish prom.

TINA FEY!!!  Your dress, your hair, your boobs--perfection!

Jane Lynch--fab.  Shot of Scarlett Johansson--WTH happened to her hair?

And January Jones deserves my first OMFG of the night.  I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Bets Draper would wear to the GGs as well.  Rock it, sister.

Amy Adams is possibly the sweetest person on the planet.  I have personal issues with dresses that have giant bows/flowers right next to your face, but for you, Amy, it makes sense.

Rob in navy, super.  I don’t need to write anymore about him because all the Twihards will take care of that.

Who cares about this Zuckerberg chick?  RYAN GOSLING IS HERE.  He looks like his mom combed his hair, but who cares?  He makes me giggle.  Butterflies in the stomach and giggling.

I hope Colin Firth wins.  REALLY.  

Wee shot of Halle Berry--eh.  I don’t even feel like putting in the effort to say anything.  She could wear a duct tape dress and still be the most beautiful woman in Hollywood.

I don’t care how weird Kevin Spacey is.  He’s still one of my favorites.

Sofia Vergara looks like Jessica Rabbit, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.  Jessica Rabbit is the sexiest cartoon character ever.

Helen Mirren for queen!  I hope my girls look that good when I’m her age.  Sexy haircut.  You make $1.6 million dollars look good.

Yea, Michael Douglas!  So good to see him up and around, and Catherine, you are STUNNING, even if you are wearing the drapes from The Sound of Music.

Claire Danes has a perfect dress and perfect hair (style and shade).  Who knew My So-Called Life would result in THIS.

Christian Bale is disgusting.  JESUS.  No, I mean, he looks like Jesus.  Get rid of all the extra body hair and put your Batman costume back on.

Michelle Williams has a pixie haircut.  I don’t know how I feel about it.  I also don’t know how I feel about that dress.  In fact, I feel nothing.

Anne Hathaway is dressed like she’s 40...this is becoming a trend with some of these young up-and-comers tonight.  ANNE!!! Lose the shoulder pads and show a little skin while you’re young.  OH WHOA, just noticed the back.  It’s much better than the front.

IRONMAN!  Could Robert Downey, Jr. care any less about this interview?  Love him.

Jimmy Fallon just got smallboxed for Carrie Underwood--Okie pride!  

Yes, let’s ruminate about the fashion.  Yes, Carson!  Obviously, January Jones.

Oh, that’s it?  It’s time for the real show?  Clappy hands, clappy hands, clappy hands!!!

Okay, so we’re opening with jokes about Charlie Sheen, The Tourist, and Cher.  Did they seriously just bleep “for Christ’s sake?”  Scientology jokes?  Watch your back, Ricky...they’ll come get you!

Okay, so I didn’t even notice Scarlett’s dress first time around because of her stupid hair, but that is really, really nice.  I mean, I could do without the sleeves, but the rest of it is really nice.  And Geoffrey Rush was robbed.  Okay, enough, Christian Bale.

LL Cool J never gets old.  I might just pause it for awhile and stare at him.  You know how I feel about guys in hats.  I’ve been meaning to watch Sons of Anarchy but haven’t gotten around to it.  (Wait...what?  She was nominated for Peg Bundy?)  Juliana Margulies should have won, but whatever.  I’m fast-forwarding through Peg’s speech.

I haven’t seen Carlos, but is it weird that I’m craving chips and salsa after hearing that music?

If I was Bruce Willis, I would totally kick his ass.  

Oh no, Leighton, someone ripped your dress!  Look, there are some trends that should not come back.  One of those trends is puffy sleeves.

Does Eric Stonestreet have a Santa connected to his lapel?

Yea for Glee boy!!!  I’m kind of disappointed that the cast didn’t join him on stage for a quick little number.  That’s right!  Screw that, kids.  I love the genuinely surprised speeches.

I think Eva Longoria and I would totally be friends in real life.  If I was there tonight, that’s the dress I would be wearing.

I totally feel torn about this.  I definitely think Steve Buscemi is wonderful and deserved to win this award, but poor Jon Hamm.  If you need comforting, Jon, call me!  Night or day!  At.  Your.  Beck.  And. Call.

I might be getting hungry.  It’s going to be hard to type and dip at the same time.  Oh!  Justin Timberlake was just on screen for like three seconds (and not even in real live form).  My pits and feet just started sweating--I can’t help it.  No matter how I try to not be in love with him, I can’t help it.  LJ+JT forever!

Aww...how cute is Hailee Steinfeld?  Obvs, TS3 is taking this one home.  It made grown men cry.

Robert Downey, Jr. is phenomenal.  Effing phenomenal.

The Kids Are All Right  is one of the films that I really, really, really, really wanted to see this year and didn’t.  Officially moved to the top of my Netflix queue.  Oooohhh...that Mark Ruffalo is too cute.  1962?  How old is Warren Beatty?

Sylvester Stallone is amazing.  Amazingly awful.  What happened?

I could watch Claire Danes and Temple Grandin hugging all night!  Why was there only one season of My So-Called Life?  Oh, Temple Grandin is so stinking cute!  And I’m just going to say that behind Natalie, I think Claire’s dress is my next favorite.

Is Zac Efron in a movie about the military soon?  (I’m genuinely asking since I don’t keep up with HSM stars.)  What’s up with that haircut?

Tina Fey and Steve Carrell...so far my favorite moment of the night.

Thor and Captain America on stage at the same time.  I am SO over superheroes and superhero movies.  

I love that Sofia Vergara clapped for herself because she’s so excited!  From Jane Lynch, best speech so far: 

...I am nothing if not falsely humble, so I would like tonight, I’d like tonight to share this with Ian Brennan.  Ian Brennan is one of our three writers on Glee, and he created Sue Sylvester, and every heinous, insane line that comes out of my mouth was written by him.  He’s a deranged young man.  He’s a fellow Chicagoan, and I love you so much, and this is yours, too. Although, I will be holding on to it.  Um, I think the great thing about Glee for me anyway, the greatest thrill, is that I get these 14-year-old kids coming up to me, vibrating out of their bodies and saying how happy Glee makes them, and you know when I have the time and I’m not eating, and don’t want to be bothered, I’ll give them a moment of my time...

Okay, now that I see Olivia Wilde up and moving around in that giant sparkly dress, it’s growing on me.  Big, I think, for TV, but I think I like it.  Yep, yep, I definitely like it.

Remember when everyone hated Jane Fonda?  Yeah, I wasn’t alive, but I heard it was bad.  Thank goodness she teamed up with JLo for that stellar Monster-in-Law movie and revived her career.  Doh.

Oh, now there’s a nice surprise.  I REALLY like Kaley Cuoco’s dress.  Very sweet.

Ooh...there’s Jon Hamm again.  Babies?

Okay, Melissa Leo should be cast in every movie from this point out.  I want her to win more awards, so I can hear more speeches from her.

Mr. Matt Damon, you had me at them apples.  Tonight was no different.  (Tiny glimpse of Brad Pitt chewing gum.  Yums.)  Anyway, back to Mattie--I swear I don’t say this to all the boys, but babies?

And let’s all take a minute to fall in love some more with Robert DeNiro.  I mean, really.  He really is the best.  Ever.  Like if I were to compile a list of the greatest actors of all time, he wouldn’t be on the list because he is his own list.  So, so, so, sososososososososo sexysmart.  Blows everyone out of the water.

Aww...Tom Hanks is crying a little bit about Robert DeNiro.  And that is why Tom Hanks is on his own different kind of list.

Okay, fine.  I like Megan Fox’s dress.  As much as it KILLS me to say it.  So grossed out by her.

Yep, still like January Jones and that red “dress.”  It’s more like a swimsuit with a skirt, but yes.  I still like it.

Halle Berry.

How does someone get nominated twice in one category and still not win?  Paul Giamatti is talented and all, but give Johnny some love for his BRILLIANT performance in Alice in Wonderland. Okay, Paul, you’re getting creepy now.  Get off the stage.

Okay, so does anyone know how tall Joseph Gordon-Levitt is?  I can never tell, but he seems small for my taste.  I might make a boy-sized man exception for him because he’s in two of my favorite movies ever.  I mean, really, I don’t like it when a boy can fit in my jeans.  It’s gross and wrong.  And I only like kissing boys when I have to crane my neck until it hurts.  While on my tiptoes.

JEFF BRIDGES!!!  JEFF BRIDGES!!!  JEFF BRIDGES!!!  I love him so much.

And we all knew that NP was taking this one home.  Obvs.  Shout out to the granny!  Shout out to the mom and dad!  He does want to sleep with you--like everyone else I know.  Aww...awkward laugh!  Darren Aronofsky  should cast that mustache in his next creepy movie.

Did you hear that?  From the upcoming film, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.  I may have said something about that book sometime on this blog.

And Colin Firth FTW--my night is now complete.

"There's gotta be an easier way to get a standing ovation."--Michael Douglass (Brilliant and poised!)

And The Social Network wins again.  Cool.

Wait...the show ended on time?  Wow.