This year, I am giving out my own awards in my own categories. You can suggest your own categories if I missed any.

Most Egregious Dress: Duh, this one is a no-brainer, right? The winner is Gwyneth “please hate me” Paltrow, in as awful sheer peignoir that appears to have been shredded in the garbage disposal before she rescued it. Gwyneth is always trolling us, so by now she’s a master at it. Thank u next, Gwyneth.

Most Personally Gratifying Dress Fail: Taylor Swift, in a big floral bedspread that accentuated her round-shouldered posture and added forty years to her face. YES, let’s see more of this, Taylor!

Most Discomfiting Presence: Renee Zellwegar. I almost had to cover my eyes. From the beginning of her acceptance speech, she made it clear how much she resents her peers and critics. Extremely ungracious and neurotic, Renee lived up to her hype as super cray.

Most Unctuous Hollywood Back-Slapping: The Tom Hanks intro and speech, depicting him as god’s gift to acting as though acting itself were god’s gift to humanity. I try to avoid Tom Hanks movies and I don’t plan to forgive him for pretending to be Mr. Rogers or anyone else.

Best Dress Periodt: This Chartreuse Gucci worn by a gorgeous person I’ve never heard of (Gugu Mbatha Raw). God, this is everything.

Best Scene Stealing Red Carpet Look: Perennial winner Billy Porter. Perfection from head to toe.

Most Sickening Couple: Here, we have a tie. is it Bey and Jay? Or is it J Lo and A-Rod? It’s such a tough call. Should we give it to Beyonce just on snobbery grounds? You tell me.

Most Shameless Couple: This one goes to Noah Baumbach and Greta “homewrecker” Gerwig, sitting up front and poised to win, which, haha, they did not.

Most Tragic Dress Fail: Kerry Washington, why girl??

Most Supernatural Boobs: Another duh, Salma Hayek.

Most Starving Actress: This award goes to Nicole Kidman, in a hairline decision over Rooney Mara. Pale, anorexic, desperately hungry….just give up and have a sandwich, Nicole, and stop fucking with your face.

Ickiest Male Sexpot: Brad Pitt, looking like he had to pull himself away from a mirror to accept his award. If only he wasn’t a dope! He can never live down his years as Mr. Angelina, when he adopted all her mannerisms and called everything “grand.”

Most Attractive Male Lunatic: Joaquin Phoenix. The intensity! I am all in. Call me, Joaquin!

Joan of Arc Award: Michelle Williams. She is always suffering for Us, the people. She is so much better than us. Bow down.

Name You Have To Say, or Else: Martin Scorsese. Better yet, just Marty.

Okay, what did I leave out??

How many Netflix series can you watch concurrently without losing your mind? Right now, I’m watching a bunch of them, and it’s impossible to keep the story-lines straight.

It doesn’t help when an actor from one series pops up in another. It’s like the shows are leaking into each other, and not in a good way.

I’m trying to follow Imposters, Seven Seconds, and Shut Eye, as well as Homeland and The Chi, on Showtime. I’m not intentionally looking for violence, but I spend a certain amount of time every night whining, “I’M COVERING MY EYES! TELL ME WHEN IT’S OVER!” People are always getting stabbed, shot, bludgeoned, or poisoned. If they overdose on drugs, the camera lingers on their vomit. I’ve seen several fingers chopped off.

Sometimes, I wish the writers would pay more attention to details. Or at least they could make more of an effort at rudimentary logic. I have trouble keeping quiet about these lapses, and it’s taking a toll on my husband, who exclaims, “It doesn’t matter, it’s TV!”

I also find that I have to google the actresses to see how old they are. I need to know if they’re incredibly well-preserved or aging horribly. This also annoys my husband, who thinks I should be able to put this off until the end of the episode.

I have come to l realize that a trope you can’t avoid is the death of a son. Never daughters. The writers must know it’s the worst thing that can happen, so they dish it out with total, almost malicious abandon, focusing on the lifeless bodies and the facial expression of the horrified parents. If you can’t take triggers, don’t watch TV, is my advice. Toughen up.

Lately, there are too many troubled professional women, paired up with an insufferable man who will eventually become a love interest. There are too many alcoholics, too. Just like in real life.

The actress Mel Harris, who was once famous, is in everything, and I’m happy to report that she’s younger than me but looks much older. Inbar Lavi is in everything, too.

In between the death and violence, I’m watching a show called Crashing about a dorky stand-up comic who isn’t funny, starring a dorky stand-up comic who isn’t funny.  In the show, we watch him watching other comics, who aren’t funny either. I almost want someone to stab or bludgeon him. But no finger chopping.

I’m still not watching Game of Thrones or The Crown, and no one can make me.

What shows are you watching, and how do you keep them straight??

This is my annual Academy Awards Exegesis but I can’t let Warren Beatty get away with his behavior. Good for him for being a hall of fame loverboy, he is not a gentleman. He handed that card to poor Faye like, “You do it, I’m not taking the blame.” Almost on a par with Winston yelling “Do it to Julia!”

Man up, Warren, you fucking cunt. And then, after the mistake is revealed, he insists on taking up time to grab the mic and explain that it wasn’t his fault.  What vanity, even in Hollywood. Awful.

Okay, let’s do celebrity fashion and get the hell out of here.

Best dressed was Ruth Negga, stunning in bright red lace.

Most hideous dress, a tie between Scarlett Johansson and Charlize Theron. What’s wrong with them? Is Scarlett still trying to live down her sexpot image? Done deal, Scarlett, we see that you can look unattractive! Stop it already. And Charlize, stop buying up the black babies and look in the mirror. Come out of the closet or don’t, but face the fact that the days when you could wear just anything are long gone.

Brie Larson looked like a John Singer Sargent painting, so I’m giving her second place after Ruth.

Dakota Johnson looked awful, but her penance for those Shades of Black movies will never be over. Meryl Streep showed Chanel that Karl can go fuck himself, she will wear pants under her dress. Team Meryl all the way.

Way too many actresses wore gold column dresses, so they canceled each other out. Judd Apatow’s wife whatsername wore a welcome Pop of Color but looked like she was trying out for a Disney cartoon. Karlie Kloss wore an awful white shroud and Salma stuffed her boobs into a dated black beaded thing. Halle Berry wore a ridiculous wig that fooled no one on Black Twitter.

Now let’s do the men.

Ryan Gosling, please, please have sex with me. Please.

Dwayne Johnson and Samuel Jackson wore blue velvet jackets, I guess it’s a pimp look and if so, nice  y! Tarell Alvin McCraney looked gorgeous in a white tux and is my choice for second place. Casey Affleck needs to wash his hair.  Dev Patel‘s hair looked clean and fresh. People were hoping that Dev would make out with Andrew Garfield but that’s just mean.

Justin Timberlake always looks nice in Tom Ford, but the question remains, Why did he marry that awful Jessica Biel???

That’s it, it’s been a long day. I went to my eye doctor today, long story for another time, but while reviewing the Oscars with me, he noted, “Faye Dunaway is one of my patients, so I know she had no trouble reading!”

Wow, right?

Okay, let me know if I left out anything important.

For me, this year’s show was all about Angelina‘s new boobs. I admit I have an unhealthy fixation on them. I just can’t get past the disproportionate size of them.

I believe that her surgery was just an excuse to get a new pair of whopping big tits, and god bless her for them, just don’t expect a Nobel prize for wanting enormous implants.

Somewhere, my sister saw a headline that read “Angie fearlessly displays her decolletage..” when the correct verb is “determinedly” or “insistently.” I’m disappointed that she didn’t get them out for a photo op but oh well, there’s still time for that.

Moving on to the awards, Lupita Nyong’o was absolutely stunning in pale blue Prada. What a charming and delightful person, I had no idea! Jared Leto was a dish of androgynous goodness as he delivered a wonderful tribute to him mom. Matthew McConaughey seemed nuts and Cate Blanchette proved that Woody Allen can do anything to anyone and still be the object of Hollywood’s slobbering admiration.

Most Messed-Up face goes to Kim Novak, with Goldie Hawn a close runner-up. Amy Adams looked fabulous and Sandra Bullock looked predictably blah and waxy, while Julia Roberts went all out to look frumpy and horse-faced.

Daniel Day Lewis is still hot in an old man kind of way, demonstrating for Harrison Ford that an earring is the wrong way to go. Brad Pitt needs to explain that awful hairstyle and I want it witnessed and notarized.

I had to cover my face upon seeing the tearful eyes of Barkhad Abdi, the guy who played the Somalian pirate. I need him to be happy! I hope he will go on to have a career in acting, instead of just being a novelty in a Tom Hanks movie.

Finally, it was a relief to only have to see Bono onstage once. It could have been so much worse.

I have been gorging on Season 2 of House of Cards and Robin Wright is killing me. I can’t take it.

Why is she so fucking manly?

It’s hard to watch this series without complaining about the manliness. Even at its most engrossing, I am distracted by the physical ickiness of this actress once known for being pretty.

Is it misogynist of me to man-shame her? Is it homophobic or just looks-ist?

Trying to examine my strong reaction to Robin Wright, I realize that I can’t stand her posture either. Or her character’s skintight minimalist wardrobe. Wear a fucking COLOR, Robin Wright!

Her manly hairstyle draws attention to her huge neck and jaw. Why the huge jaw? Is it a chin implant or what? What’s the deal?

Please explain any part of this.

It has taken several days to emerge from the spell cast by Top of the Lake. I miss the weird atmosphere and the intensity of the relationships.

Now that I’m back in my own world, I’m preoccupied by the creepiness of women who look like old ladies.

I know how wrong this is, believe me. My husband always encourages me to embrace growing old. I know it happens to everyone, you can’t stop time, blah blah blah. And yet it’s so creepy.

Look at Jane Campion and Holly Hunter, 59 and 55 years old, respectively. They are dynamic, vibrant woman and Holly’s hair isn’t really silver in real life. But still. The old ladiness bothers me.

On the other hand, I’d be mad at them if they tried to be sexpots with bursting faces like Madonna. I can’t find a way to be an old lady that doesn’t feel tragic or enraging.

What do you think of Jane and Holly? Is it the androgyny that’s bothering me? They project a ‘Fuck You if You Don’t Like it’ attitude, which I normally admire. Are they saying that they don’t care about being attractive, or are they attractive in a way I don’t get? Would they look better with dyed hair, or is it the length that brings to mind wrinkly old wizards?

I have a week left before I turn sixty. I am disgusted by how shallow I am, but still. I can’t handle it.

This year, I can honestly say that I got what I wanted.  My choice for best picture, best actor and best actress came through, somebody fell, Adele was a goddess, and David O. Russell didn’t get to gloat over his importance.

Let’s review the fashions. Halle Berry wore a hideous striped dress from Ross 4 Less and her hair was dreadful. In the bad hair category, she was outdone by Jen Aniston, whose short broken ends stood up in the light, guaranteeing the death of Chris McMillan. Jane Fonda looked hideous in a yellow gown from “Dallas“, and Shirley Bassey, at 100 years old, was majestic in gold sequins as she belted out the theme to “Goldfinger“. I tried to remember an old scandal about her involving one of the British Royals but failed to retrieve it.

Seth MacFarlane was alternately funny and crass, but who could resist his crack about Kardashian facial hair?

Barbara Streisand looked like an old wizard from Harry Potter, Anne Hathaway overdid her boy-in-a-dress schtick, and Jessica Chastain, as always, was a flawless porcelain doll. Several older men had long silky white hair, outclassing the clean-cut youngsters.

Reese Witherspoon wore an ugly blue thing and grew her chin since last year. Renee Zellweger reappeared out of retirement with the exact same grimace we know and love her for.

Christopher Waltz was a charming Oscar winner, generously quoting Quentin Tarantino, who exuded coke from every pore as he manically thanked the Academy.

Daniel Day Lewis was a witty dreamboat, revealing that he was originally signed to portray Margaret Thatcher. Ben Affleck was emotionally affecting as he alluded to some grudge he had given up but clearly hadn’t, and I still managed to watch “Shameless” even though I missed the first 8 minutes.

What did I forget?

I’ve finally caught up with Homeland, after skipping the first season in a private protest against Claire Danes as a CIA agent. Now I’m cool with Claire, but Brody’s wife is a major irritant.

Whenever the wife is onscreen, I find it hard to stop critiquing her face. Her acting is awful, too, don’t get me wrong. She’s incapable of portraying any emotion with conviction.  Her character is badly underwritten but a decent actress could still bring something to suggest a life form.  Instead, she just strikes a pose and raises or lowers her voice.

Her head is too small for her body, making her look life a dinosaur of maybe a giraffe. But in profile, she looks like a duckling, thanks to that augmented top lip. Stop it with the lips, actresses! Remember Meg Ryan! In fact, I’m going to name Meg Ryan ‘The Alamo’ just to help keep the memory alive.

While looking at pictures of this actress (Morena Baccarin, who I see is considered a super-hot hottie) I learned from an observant stranger that she has the same nosejob as Ashley Greene. I don’t know who Ashley Greene is but let’s compare noses.

Ashley above, Morena below. I wouldn’t want this nose, although you could probably use it as a can opener.

Obviously, I’m feeling cranky and shallow but facts are facts. I love Homeland for its suspense and the tension of the thwarted love story, but that fucking wife is a pain in the ass.

Opinions or objections?

You know that crap you see on MSN that’s there to distract you with mundane and/or bizarre trivia….like “Lose Weight While Eating” or “Ten Ways to See if He’s a Mass Murderer?” Obviously, I’m much too savvy to click on that shit.

But today I noticed “I Stalked My Boyfriend’s Ex” and thought, Big deal, who hasn’t?

When I met my husband, his Ex was living with a man she would later marry, but the divorce wasn’t final yet. Everything I heard about her was horrifying. On one of our first dates, he even showed me her ‘head-shots,’ because she was an Actress. I was shaken by the big actressy smile and the long blond bob.

When he went out of town, the Ex always took care of his cat.  I suggested that it was time to let me take care of the cat, and after a lot of soul-searching (i.e., bitter arguing) he decided that the Ex and I would share the job.

I was furious but terrified of bumping into her. Instead, because it was nearly Easter, I left her a chocolate Easter bunny. I was trying to demonstrate how nice I was. She responded by leaving me a potted plant, with a little note that I still have somewhere. She dotted the i in her name with a little star.

I consulted a friend who gave me good advice: You can’t beat someone at their own game. This is advice I’ve passed on several times, that’s how good it is. She warned me that the Ex was known for her friendliness; if I kept trying to outdo her, I’d end up giving her the deed to my house and STILL she’d think of something to up the ante.

I gave up the niceness and went straight to pure seething hatred. She would not stay in line, even though she was about to marry someone else. On the eve of her marriage, she left a whimsical poem for my husband, just to keep her hand in, so to speak.

Time passed and I got pregnant. The Ex got pregnant too! She was like a horrible toothy spectre that wouldn’t stop haunting me with her legendary Friendliness and Kookiness. I had come to learn that she loved giving parties, wearing hats, and dressing up like a clown in her own TV show on the public access channel.

Finally, the Ex and I had our babies. My husband was invited to a wedding where the Ex would be in attendance. I geared up for it by dying my hair even blacker and wearing a tiny pleated Catholic schoolgirl skirt.   Our first encounter was dreadful, even though I knew it was funny. She took my husband’s coat like she was still the wife and put it on a chair. I could barely look at her. She smiled in a way that showed her back molars. Her voice was loud and animated, like someone who has a show on the public access channel.

Our babies started crying and the Ex and I had to both get our boobs out to breastfeed. We began to talk shop. I tried to feel normal, as though we were two normal women with new babies. She remarked that her boobs lactated differently. I told her that, yeah, that happens. She leaned toward me and said dramatically “I call [my boobs] Comfy and Squirty.” I was speechless. All I could think to say was “Uh, I call mine Right and Left.”

God, I was obsessed with that Ex. For years, I would call her phone number on holidays just to hear her themed outgoing messages. On Saint Patrick’s day, she used an Irish accent.

All these years later, I can still get steamed when I think about her. She was the anti-me, and that was a big part of her mystique for me. Over time, I’ve come to feel more secure about being an angry inhibited brunette. I think I’m the best in my league, I guess. A loud vivacious blond can still irritate me, but that’s about it.

If you’ve never been pathologically jealous, you’ll have no idea of how awful it feels. But also too, you will never know the insurmountable pleasure of having a friend make a prank-call on your rival, and getting her to believe she’s just been offered a leading role in the sequel to the Wizard of Oz, called Beyond the Rainbow.

My Best Friend’s Girl

This is a godawful romantic comedy that grates on the nerves and delivers another worthless performance by Kate Hudson in the role of a smiley airhead/vixen. Dane Cook is predictably repellent as the wise-cracking love-interest. The plot is familiar and the dialogue runs the gamut from excruciating to enraging. The only point of interest is the question of why Kate Hudson keeps getting paid to make movies that tank. Why can’t she go away and leave us the fuck alone?!

Nights in Rodanthe

Here are Richard Gere and Diane Lane paired again after making that thriller where she cheats on him with a yummy foreign guy. This time, love blossoms between Gere and Lane just when they’ve given up hope of ever finding Mr/Ms. Right! The romantic locales and the surging soundtrack provide the perfect background for these two glamorous Botox addicts to show how much they can fake emotion.   But where is the gerbil?? Expect laughter and tears from the desperate spinsters in the audience. Only see this movie if you need to take your mom somewhere for a couple of hours.

Body of Lies

Leonardo Dicaprio turns in another impressive performance as a haunted man with conflicting loyalties. Leo runs around trying not to get killed as he attempts to sort out the truth about something. Russell Crowe is the perfect foil for Leo, in a role that shows how different he looks when he changes his hairstyle. It’s a battle of wits as Leo and Russell fight against the clock to come to a concluding chase scene that will have you saying “No wonder Leo gets all those supermodels!” As Imelda Matt writes, “….a wankfest!”

The Women

This is a debacle that will make you thankful for your own face when you get home and look in the mirror. A terrible excuse for a chick movie, The Women is a pathetic stab at revamping the career of Med Ryan, featuring a bunch of actresses you don’t care about except for Eva Mendes, just a little bit, because she hasn’t made you detest her yet. Give her time. Do not even think of renting this movie when it comes out on DVD unless you want to contemplate killing yourself.

*NOTE: I canceled the Weekend Festival of Hate in order to maintain my hatred-level for PAP Smear.