Bitter Cynical Rants from One as Snarky as Waldorf and As Sexy as Statler.

Monday, March 01, 2004

Lord of the Wins

Lord of the Rings may have scooped up a gazillion awards last night, but if you ask me (and I know you did) last night's winner was by far and away Jennifer Garner. Gorgeous, Gorgeous, Gorgeous. I do have to say though Will and Jada came in a close second, I mean really, how adorable are they? On the flip side, What the hell was Liv Tyler thinking? Not only was the flapper/sexy librarian thing NOT working for her at all, but can someone pay her NOT to speak in public again? please? I beg you. While we're banning Liv from presenting another award, can we get a coach for the unbelievably talented yet socially awkward Sofia Coppola?

Enough Oscar. Today my friends is March 1st. March is a month of opportunity, the vernal equinox, and most importantly my birth. While my Christian brothers and sisters spend these days usually denying themselves some joy in Lenten devotion, I begin today the festival of Andrea. Please feel free to join in. It doesn't require much, just a general joyous air about you, acknowledgements of how fabulous life can be, cadbury's creme eggs (the original, none of this caramel or chocolate creme garbage, only the white liquid crack center will do), a little road trip (but only the kind where you wake up, hop in the car with good music and good friends and no idea of a destination) and of course the "Three B's" - Basketball, Beer, and Britney (are you all geared up for her new showtime special?). While the Festival of Andrea has been known in years to rival the Bacchinale of yore, I do not demand lechery or debauchery. Be forewarned, it tends to occur whether you're prepared or not.

In light of the award season ending so quickly, I would like to make a brief speech of thanks to all of those who made the Festival of Andrea possible. First, my parents, thanks for the genes, the jeans, bankrolling the production for close to 23 years and the liver of steel making all of the drinking possible. To the Good Senor, tomorrow we can drive around this town and let the cops chase us around. The friends who know how to throw them back without throwing them up, you know who you are, the festival would be nothing without you. And the incomparable Ms. Irish McPants, you have made my life a romantic comedy instead of a bleak East German film noir, I love you.

If I left you off the list, it doesn't mean I forgot you, it means that you haven't made enough of an impact in my life yet. See above for ways to properly celebrate the festival and you may make the list next year, its up to you really. If bribes are something you may be considering, e-mail me, and I'd be happy to give you an address to send presents, money, and sacrificial virgins to.



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