Confession

Okay, so the Academy Awards are over, I'm bummed Passion of the Christ and Finding Neverland didn't win any of the big awards, and it is time to confess: I have written my acceptance speech.

Now, you're probably wondering how one can write an acceptance speech for an award for which one has never been nominated, and in a field in which one does not even work. Simple: I am really good at pretending.

There was a very, very brief time in my high school years when I considered majoring in theater. (Hilarious since I only ever tried out for one show because I was always so embarrassed and shy.) I am also an avid fan of "Inside the Actor's Studio" and LOVE watching behind the scene documentaries on filmmaking. I even subscribe (shame on me) to US Weekly. This is all because one of my dream jobs is to be a film actress. Did I mention I already have my answers lined up for James Lipton's famous questionnaire? I guess it's not surprising then that my first novel deals with Hollywood.

Dan and I had the privilege of being filmed for two sets of eHarmony.com commercials. (Yes, if you've seen those, you've most likely seen us.) I'd never been on a soundstage before, never been filmed before, never seen myself on TV before. (Well, I don't count the 700 Club segment they did on my dad when I was in junior high and I'm running around playing catch in this awful hot-pink winter coat.) I LOVED IT. I *loved* having someone fuss over my hair and having someone put make up on me. (I do such a slapdash job of it myself that it's always shocking, in a good way, to see it done well.) I loved having three people evaluate the outfit they'd put together for me and then try this, no this, no this jewelry.

What probably made it totally awesome, though, was the fact that Dan, being the brilliant man that he is, told me as we watched another couple get interviewed before us, "They need sound bites--answer their questions but be short and to the point. It's too hard to edit down five minutes of rambling." And since we got to watch this couple go first, we knew what questions to expect, and actually worked a little on our answers before getting up there. And it worked! They loved us. They even did a whole commercial with just us, and then filmed our wedding to use in more commercials (although they never did).

But let me tell you: when that little light went on above the camera, and they asked me my first question, I was in my element. Even when I fumbled my words or drew a blank I didn't get all twittery and nervous like I usually do. I couldn't get enough of it. I was so sorry to be done. And when they called us a few months later to see if we'd do a follow up commercial now that we were married, I couldn't wait!

I've been thinking about taking a script-writing class, because obsession with being an actress aside, I love movies and, obviously, love writing, and how cool would it be to combine the two!? But I must admit there's a little crumb of me that wants to write a movie for myself, write the role I'd love to play, and then find a way to cast myself in it.

Will it ever happen? The chances are so small my calculator won't compute them. But nevertheless, I will continue to polish my acceptance speech.

Lookit all the beautiful people...

So the Oscars are on, and lame as they are every year. I almost turned it off when Chris Rock blathered on about the embarrassment to film that is Fahrenheit 9/11 and how great it was (to the delight and applause of the audience), and then preceded to rip the President after saying he wasn't going to. Then he ripped half the audience. This is humor? Shut up and give the awards already. They're always trying to come up with ways to make the show shorter; why they can't just cut the stupid monologue? (Oh, the best part: after ripping the President for going to war, he gives a big shout out to all the troops fighting for our freedom. I guess we can appreciate the people fighting for us, but not the person responsible for protecting us and thus deciding when war is necessary.)

On a totally unrelated note, I did my nails for the first time in well over a year. I used to do them weekly in college, and ever since I've almost always had something on them, but for some reason I don't think I've done them since I got married. And now all the colors I have are all college bachelorette colors: silver, blue, grape, fire-engine red. I'm not so much like that anymore, which is weird to realize. But isn't it funny: it's the clothes, the music, the nail polishes we have that tell us what we used to be like and show us that we're not that person now. And even though I know I'm probably not going to be that person again, it's hard to let go of those things. I don't like to move on. I'm lousy at throwing things out. I feel like I have a responsibility to be loyal to those things because they made me who I was back then so that I could be who I am now.

Dangit. Chipped a nail on my keyboard. Time to patch....

Baby needs a new pair of shoes...

No, I did not go shopping...we went to Vegas. Stayed in one of the cheaper casino hotels off the strip near Dan's brother and his family. We go there a lot to hang out with them and bond with their son, Simon. This month's excuse to go was Simon's second birthday. It's so cool to see him the way we do, once every two months or so, because his developement makes these huge jumps, but not so big that you get there and think, "Wasn't he just in diapers? When did he learn to drive?!" He's got a very lamentable "Oh no!" that you just can't help but laugh at, and he LOVES his "Uncle Dayo" as he calls Dan. He kept tracking Dan down and taking his hand and pulling him back outside to play. Simon's parents, Andrew and Amber, bought him a Little Tykes jungle gym--not a really big one, just the the right size for the 2-5 set--and Dan's one of those really awesome uncles that will get right down on the floor and play with kids like Simon, so he was tumbling head-first down the slide (a trick Simon instantly copied) and crawling all over with him. SO sweet.

Las Vegas is just such a weird, weird city. No offense meant to any Vegas folk, but I gotta say, I feel safer driving in LA than I do in Vegas. Not just because of the INSANE traffic (because there are so many 24 hour jobs, rush hour never ends!) and the constant construction zones (something's always being either built or renovated or paved or patched) but the fact that it's one of those cities where people WILL come after you if you cut them off. And because you can own pretty much anything in the world there and have it with you, you never know what they're coming after you WITH: a gun or a trained assassin monkey or what. (We actually saw someone take off after a guy who went through a stop sign when it wasn't his turn. Freaked me out.) And when you're down on the strip, or in any casino, really, there's an almost tangible sense of empty amusement and despair mingled with the cigarette smoke. And don't get me started on the people who stand on the street corners on the strip to hand out girlie fliers. *shudder* Thankfully Simon and the gang live in North Las Vegas, away from most of the freakiness. But still, it felt good to drive through our own clean RSM and crash in our own bed when we got home this afternoon. Home Sweet Home indeed!