Oscar Schloscar

What the hell's happened to the Oscars?! There was a time the show was glamorous, funny and actually... are you ready for this... EXCITING!

Now, everyone appear to be droids so pumped full of Botox they're incapable of clapping their hands! Yes, I'm talking to you dullards sitting in the front row.

For chrissakes, you're fucking ACTORS. At least make us believe you're having a good time!

A revelation ... of sorts

I hate writing. I really do. It's like pulling teeth for me. Just the act of sitting down and opening the computer to do something other than surf the Web is painful.

And yet I write. Prolifically? No, much to my chagrin. There are far too many distractions around me for my own liking.

The great irony is that I don't have a day job. I used to, but five years ago I quit it in order to devote all my time to writing. In those five years It seems though that I've written less than I did when I was still in the workplace. Perhaps it was the workplace stimulation, or the people I encountered each day. Whatever the reason, I do remember the fun I had sneaking moments of writing into my day and trying not to get caught.

That's it. I'll hire someone to randomly show up at my home and catch me "in the act". Perhaps that way I can get back that old feeling of being naughty and getting away with it, which is a lot more fun than the complete autonomy I have now.

I suppose I could always get another day job, working for close to minimum wage, with pinheads who have half the education I've received, and who spend most of their time gossiping viciously about co-workers just so they can feel better about their own miserable lives, all the while being inspired by the madness and scribbling random thoughts on company time.

On the other hand, I could simply take pharmaceuticals and get the same result.

Ooh... Shiny!

It's the little things in life, isn't it? A really good movie ... great conversation with friends ... spontaneous laughter from your children ...

With me, it's cooking. I love to cook. Always have. That's not to say I've always been a great cook. Oh no, that came with time and plenty of practice.

Before my husband and I becamse engaged - some ninteen years ago - I gave him a Christmas gift knowing that we would soon become engaged. You know, women's intuition and all that.

Anyway, I bought him a lovely set of cookware. It was the same kind my parents had been using for many, many years - Farberware. Great stuff, Farberware. It'll take most any kind of abuse (which I can certainly attest to) and keep on going strong for decades.

As expected (by me) we did get married and I became the proud owner of those pots and pans. And I used them. Oh boy, did I use them! For eighteen years I've been using them.

Sad to report that I just killed one of the pots. To be more accurate, I killed the handle.

So, like any good cook I decided to figure out my options. I could replace that one pot. Sure. That would make sense. To someone else, that is.

But my brain works differently than others'. Why should I replace just one pot when I could replace the whole set?

AH HA!

So, that's what I did. And UPS should be here at any moment to deliver them.

They are All-Clad Cookware, and they are yummy... and expensive! Gulp! We may just have to take out a second mortgage just to pay for these beauties.

But I'm worth it. Right?

STRIKE OVER!

Can I hear an "amen"?

The votes are in, but opinions (on both sides of the "we got screwed"/"we got a good deal" argument) are still running hot and heavy and probably will go on for some time.

Since I am not yet a WGA member, I will refrain from giving my opinion. I will simply accept their decision and hope it was the right one for everyone involved.

During the past three months I noticed something I'd never seen in this town before. Solidarity. Writers are a singular bunch, preferring their own company. But the strike forced some of them out of their shells and into the sun (or rain) to be with other writers. It was nice to meet others I've only met on blog sites or at seminars.

The screenwriters I met were intelligent, funny, and very dedicated to their craft. I will miss seeing them on the picket line, but it was lovely to finally be able to put faces together with names I've only heard about.

Whatever happens here on out, I wish all of us [screenwriters] great success in the coming months and years.

May we meet again.

All. Fingers. Crossed.

For tomorrow's WGAw and WGAe meetings. Let us hope a good (and logical) agreement has been reached.