Okay, normally I sick to just comedy, but here and there I post something that’s going to get my website a bunch of hits. Well turns out all of America wants to see who did the best job pretending to be someone else. And I’d like to capitalize on the high search volume. So in the exact order that I found on another website–which I plan to beat in SEO ranking–these are the nominees.
Complete list of 84th Annual Academy Award nominations announced Tuesday:
Best Picture: “The Artist,” ‘’The Descendants,” ‘’Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close,” ‘’The Help,” ‘’Hugo,” ‘’Midnight in Paris,” ‘’Moneyball,” ‘’The Tree of Life,” ‘’War Horse.”
Actor: Demian Bichir, “A Better Life”; George Clooney, “The Descendants”; Jean Dujardin, “The Artist”; Gary Oldman, “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy”; Brad Pitt, “Moneyball.”
Actress: Glenn Close, “Albert Nobbs”; Viola Davis, “The Help”; Rooney Mara, “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo”; Meryl Streep, “The Iron Lady”; Michelle Williams, “My Week With Marilyn.”
Supporting Actor: Kenneth Branagh, “My Week With Marilyn”; Jonah Hill, “Moneyball”; Nick Nolte, “Warrior”; Christopher Plummer, “Beginners”; Max von Sydow, “Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close.”
Supporting Actress: Berenice Bejo, “The Artist”; Jessica Chastain, “The Help”; Melissa McCarthy, “Bridesmaids”; Janet McTeer, “Albert Nobbs”; Octavia Spencer, “The Help.”
Directing: Michel Hazanavicius, “The Artist”; Alexander Payne, “The Descendants”; Martin Scorsese, “Hugo”; Woody Allen, “Midnight in Paris”; Terrence Malick, “The Tree of Life.”
Adapted Screenplay: Alexander Payne, Nat Faxon and Jim Rash, “The Descendants”; John Logan, “Hugo”; George Clooney, Grant Heslov and Beau Willimon, “The Ides of March”; Steven Zaillian, Aaron Sorkin and Stan Chervin, “Moneyball”; Bridget O’Connor and Peter Straughan, “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.”
Original Screenplay: Michel Hazanavicius, “The Artist”; Annie Mumolo and Kristen Wiig, “Bridesmaids”; J.C. Chandor, “Margin Call”; Woody Allen, “Midnight in Paris”; Asghar Farhadi, “A Separation.”
Animated Feature Film: “A Cat in Paris”; “Chico & Rita”; “Kung Fu Panda 2”; “Puss in Boots”; “Rango.”
Art Direction: “The Artist,” ‘’Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2,” ‘’Hugo,” ‘’Midnight in Paris,” ‘’War Horse.”
Cinematography: “The Artist,” ‘’The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo,” ‘’Hugo,” ‘’The Tree of Life,” ‘’War Horse.”
Sound Mixing: “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo,” ‘’Hugo,” ‘’Moneyball,” ‘’Transformers: Dark of the Moon,” ‘’War Horse.”
Sound Editing: “Drive,” ‘’The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo,” ‘’Hugo,” ‘’Transformers: Dark of the Moon,” ‘’War Horse.”
Original Score: “The Adventures of Tintin,” John Williams; “The Artist,” Ludovic Bource; “Hugo,” Howard Shore; “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy,” Alberto Iglesias; “War Horse,” John Williams.
Original Song: “Man or Muppet” from “The Muppets,” Bret McKenzie; “Real in Rio” from “Rio,” Sergio Mendes, Carlinhos Brown and Siedah Garrett.
Documentary Feature: “Hell and Back Again,” ‘’If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front,” ‘’Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory,” ‘’Pina,” ‘’Undefeated.”
Documentary (short subject): “The Barber of Birmingham: Foot Soldier of the Civil Rights Movement,” ‘’God Is the Bigger Elvis,” ‘’Incident in New Baghdad,” ‘’Saving Face,” ‘’The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossom.”
Film Editing: “The Artist,” ‘’The Descendants,” ‘’The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo,” ‘’Hugo,” ‘’Moneyball.”
Makeup: “Albert Nobbs,” ‘’Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2,” ‘’The Iron Lady.”
Animated Short Film: “Dimanche/Sunday,” ‘’The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore,” ‘’La Luna,” ‘’A Morning Stroll,” ‘’Wild Life.”
Live Action Short Film: “Pentecost,” ‘’Raju,” ‘’The Shore,” ‘’Time Freak,” ‘’Tuba Atlantic.”
Visual Effects: “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2,” ‘’Hugo,” ‘’Real Steel,” ‘’Rise of the Planet of the Apes,” ‘’Transformers: Dark of the Moon.”
As I’ve begun to age into an adult I’ve attempted curb my cursing habits to almost nonexistent. Using vulgarity is the quickest way to lower you perceived social status and always a cheap way to express emotion. Don’t limit your ability to socially excel by using trashy verbiage–speak well and smile and people will assume you’re a handsome little devil with endless potential. With that said, some times it’s essential to use fowl language to convey a message.
I fucking love ice cream. That is a statement that requires the use of the offensive language. Mainly because I don’t love ice cream, I fucking love ice cream. There’s a big different. I love t-shirts, but if you showed up at my house wearing a sweater I’d be totally fine. I’d probably even be like, “hey cool sweater, man.” On the other hand, if you promised me ice cream and showed up with a bowl marshmallows I’d punch you square in the jaw. I’m not kidding, square in the fucking jaw (note the difference between loving and fucking loving). Adding the f-word emphasizes the noun like nothing else would. I could say, “I really love ice cream,” but I’m not a six-year-old girl, so that’s not an option. Besides, if a six-year-old girl honestly loved ice cream that much, she’d curse. She’d have to or else she’d be lying about how much she really cares about ice cream. Which would be hard to do, because when you fucking love ice cream, you can’t front. It’s easy to love things, but not fucking love them. I dated a girl for three years and didn’t even fucking love her. Don’t get me wrong, I thought she was cool, but I don’t throw the f-word around that carelessly.
Example: I love Cinnabons, but I don’t fuc–actually Cinnabons are a bad example–I fucking love those as well. They’re just so delicious. Pause for a second, if there’s a Cinnabon ice cream–which I’m googling right now to check–not even the f-word would suffice as an adjective. Update: there is a Cinnabon ice cream and I just sent out an email to my love-handles letting them know to make room for the sweet, slow-churned, vanilla swirls that are going to make their way down my mouth and into my already full pockets of fat.
I just re-read what I wrote and really don’t understand why I want to be this fat. I’ve been drooling for the last two paragraphs. I have an addiction to terrible foods and I’m not sure how to stop it. It’s not like I want to stop it. If I walked into a room to be surprised by an ice cream intervention, straight up, I’d walk out and then text message mean things to everyone that was there. I say things like, “ice scream at you for being so heartless!” I’d feel bad afterwards, but in the moment, I’d be furious. I don’t want anything to come in between me and my sweet cream.
It’s 2:00am and I’m blogging about cursing, ice cream and Cinnabons? The supermarket is closed so I’m leaving to get my fix at a gas station. I need to go to sleep.
As with most of my trips last year, Costa Rica was sporadic and unplanned. By sporadic and unplanned I mean, Monday at 5:00pm I was watching Netflix and eating pudding pops–twelve hours later I had my bags packed and was headed to Miami International Airport. In less than half a day I finished a movie, ate six pudding pops and convinced two of my best friends to travel to central America with me. I’d say it was productive, but seeing that the movie I watched starred Nick Canon, I probably lose points.
My trip, short but amazing, consisted of this:
Day One: We flew into San Jose where we were quickly bombarded by a bunch of tanned taxi drivers promising to drive us into the city for twenty dollars. I said, “no gracias” and took the city bus for ninety cents (the city buses come often and are right in front of the airport). We ate the country’s traditional dish (casado) in an open breezy restaurant and then trekked around for several miles until we found our hostel (if you’re looking for traditional cuisine always avoid the restaurant filled with tourist. Odds are any restaurant filled with white people is the Fuddruckers of that county). That night we continued to gorge ourselves on local foods all while getting drunk on Imperial beer and shots of guaro (liquor made from sugar cane) for Sammy’s birthday (the initial reason for the trip).
Day Two: Up at 5:00am I could still smell beer on my breath. The hostel’s blankets ended up being crazy dusty so I spent the night sneezing–until I moved to a bed without blankets–where I then froze to death. We caught a 6:15am chicken bus from the Coca Cola bus station downtown and headed north to La Fortuna (the four hour trip only cost $3-$4. Don’t go with a private company, they’ll charge you upwards of $125). We walked to our hostel, checked for bed bugs and booked a tour to climb a volcano in Arenal. The tour included entrance to the hot springs after the climb, so an hour after swatting bugs and collecting volcanic rocks we were flying down water slides and lounging in steamy volcano water. I tried to get the girls to come with me to a bar afterwards, but they insisted on lying around and being girls. Oddly I adjusted to lying around like a girl quite easily.
Day Three: After a long night of one of the girls trying to convince us that we all needed to sleep in the same bed to ward off spiders, we were up at 7:00am to catch a ride to Monteverde (the land-boat-land for $18 was booked, so we took a city bus for $2-$3). It stops in Tilaran for two hours. Tilaran is a really small town and might have been the place they film The Hills Have Eyes, but we managed to survived, all while switching from Imperial beer to Pilsen–another local made brew (it tasted like Miller Lite with a Spanish accent). Tilaran was another two hours of farm land and mountains to Monteverde, but totally worth it. Instead of doing a tour that day we hiked around on our own and took pictures of a sloth hanging around on telephone wires. That night was in downtown Monteverde (downtown is two and a half streets) debating which restaurant to eat at and which ones to wish we ate at after we were already full. I think we drank wine after that.
Day Four: Like all days so far, we were up early and zip lining in the rainforest by 8:00am. If you’ve never zip lined, stop slacking and do it! Really, I enjoyed zip lining more than having sex with this girl–and that girl was hot. The climax was a quarter-mile zip line from one mountain, over a valley, to another mountain. Then you had the option to bungee jump on the Tarzan swing. I of course decided to bungee jump. And despite my yelling and baby-like crying, loved it. We drove back to our cabin (one of the girls thought we needed a night away from hostel bugs). The cabin had bigger bugs than any place we stayed on the trip (well, except for the five-inch grasshopper I found and saved at the airport). We hopped on another bus and started driving out of the mountain towards Liberia. Thirty minutes later our bus broke down. We waited for a second bus and ten minutes after getting on that bus, it too broke down. From there all I remember is smoking pot with some nine-year-old Costa Rican boys and waking up in a hotel four hours north of where our second bus broke down. There was only one bed–obviously another way to fend off spiders–and a bathroom with a window by the shower. I showered while looking out for peeing Tom’s. (In Spanish countries is it peeing Jaun’s?) And then the girls and I, tired from the last four 18-hour days, dressed and walked to the nicest Burger King we’ve ever seen in our lives and ate chicken tenders until our stomachs exploded.
Day Five: Awake at 4:35am we headed to the Liberia airport and thanked ourselves for going on a completely unplanned, but wildly wonderful vacation. Note this is also the day I saved the grasshopper.
I wanted to speak in-depth about all the hilarity that ensued while riding local chicken buses through the country side and bungee jumping into the rainforest, but I’m still too covered with mosquito bites to clear my mind. It’s one of those, “you had to be there moments.” And unfortunately you weren’t there, but you can always join me on my next trip. I’m thinking Thailand–and at least for two weeks.
Travel more. Getting lost is how you find yourself,