Tuesday, March 4, 2014

                                                   BLOG FROM THE BOWL ( by Max, Guest Blogger)

     So for whatever it’s worth, here is my assessment of the Oscars. First of all, I noticed that there were no litter boxes anywhere. It seems to me, Ellen could have thought of that while she was backstage ordering the friggin’ pizza. I wasn’t even offered one tiny morsel--nope, not one. Harrison Ford inhaled his so fast. There was no time for a pepperoni to get caught in his fur. Liza Minnelli almost got trampled in the selfie show. Good thing her mother wasn’t around. 

     I think it was pretty rude of people to make fun of Jennifer Lawrence’s clumsiness. After all, we all take a fall now and then. I have some trouble manipulating my excess pounds on occasion, but I’d hate to think of people labeling me a feckless fur ball just because I lose my balance at times. Just sayin’. I must say she’s a good sport about it all. I would have gotten some claw action myself.

     The films were pretty good this year. I got dizzy watching Gravity, but that could be due to my taking “cat” naps during the 5-hour tumble in space. I thought it was pretty insensitive of George Clooney to just cut out on her like that. He undoubtedly had a hot date on Uranus. 

      Matthew looked great in his white tux, and the kiss that pink wife planted on him was   spot on. Most people would have been off-center in the excitement. They probably rehearsed it. His message was sincere and poignant, and I’ve decided that I’m going to take some quality time each day between my naps to go chase myself.

      Poor John Revolta. He looked so handsome, and then he mispronounced the name of the singer. The least she could have done was to give him a nickname he could say so he didn’t have to take all the crap. He’s no spring chicken anymore, so they need to cut him some slack. I sent him a Blue Mountain friendship card to cheer him up.

     I think they gave out about 14 statues while I was catching some zzzzs. I didn’t miss much, as the most exciting awards didn’t come until after the 84th commercial. Most people had already gone to bed. I was glad to see that Twelve Years a Slave won for Best Picture. That film was riveting. My whiskers stood on end for most of it, and I wouldn’t have missed a second of it---not even for the litter box.

     Meryl Streep is also a good sport. Eighteen Oscar nominations. That’s impressive. Some of those stars can’t even count to eighteen. Did you check our her shimmy action? She’s a trip. 

     I was thinking about getting a new fur for the occasion, but I decided to just go with last year’s coat. It’s clean and doesn’t need taking in. As no one saw it but me, I didn’t have to worry about the fallout (which it does regularly).

     Mr. Wonderful is still trying to figure out how Tyler Perry got that little brown cap painted on his head. I think Mr. W. wants to try it. Knock yourself out, I say. 

     Got milk?