Ooooooh Oscar night. For those of you who might not know, I really hate the idea of the Oscars. I think they're a load of crap. Having said that, I love seeing the stars in all of their finery and I love yelling at the walking corpse of Joan Rivers. Anywho, Cecile abandoned me this year  so I had to forego my Annual Oscar Night of Debauchery and...uh...Yelling at Joan Rivers. So instead I decide to dvr the Oscars and head over to my parents' house to hang out with Price, who was home for the weekend for the last time until the end of the school year in May. I walk in the house waving my dvd of Clone High and he comes bounding down the stairs to announce that he has midterms in a week and has to study. Well, fuck. So I head into the study to find my mom watching the pre-Oscar red carpet hoopla and I decide what the hell, and sit down to watch with her.
I will, however, share a moment that tickled me. It was truly a sitcom moment in my family. Here we go:
9:50 Honorary Oscar to Sidney Lumet is accompanied by the obligatory clip-fest and mushy music that always makes me weepy, even if I don't know/care who the hell Sidney Lumet is! Dammit. Then he goes to thank his family, the camera cuts to the three women in the box seat above, and WHOA. Mom and I almost fall off the couch. Here's how the conversation goes:
ME: You realize of course that those aren't real.
MOM: *giving me an exasperated look* Oh, really?
ME: It really wouldn't matter who they were honoring, no one is paying any attention to the stage, they're too busy focused on that rack.
MOM: I really hope that's his daughter and not his wife. Or do I? Either way it's creepy. I mean, she makes Pamela Anderson look normal.
ME: Every man in America is yelling YEEE HAAA, I guarantee it. No one gives a damn about Sidney Lumet at this moment.
At this moment the doors to the study fly open and my dad rushes in.
DAD: Did you see that girl in the balcony? Is that his daughter?
Mom and I look at each other and bust out laughing.
DAD: Why are you laughing? Why didn't somebody tell her that her dress is too small? 
MOM: Price, honey, it's not the dress.
DAD: No, it is, did you see her? I mean, somebody should have told her, I mean...look at her...
ME: Geeez, Dad, get a grip. She wants to look that way.
DAD: Is that his daughter? I really hope that's his daughter. But how could that be his daughter? I mean, she looks black.  I think she is black. Is his wife black? Well he's not black, so that can't be his daughter. Unless she's not black. Maybe she's adopted. Do you think she might be adopted?
MOM: Price, we don't know, she might be adopted, she might not. Who cares?
DAD: *with an air of finality* Well, I think she's black. So she's either his wife or his adopted daughter. And her dress is just way too small.
MOM: Again, the dress fits like it's supposed to. She wants it to fit like that. You're missing the point.
DAD: *shaking his head* That poor girl. I just can't believe no one told her. And she's probably adopted.
ME: Get out, seriously Dad. Just get out.
Yeah, so that's pretty much how most conversations go with my Dad. He completely misses the point and you end up arguing with him about a point you weren't even trying to make in the first place. I guess that's why he's a damn good lawyer. He does, however, drive me insane most of the time. But I love him anyway. LOVE YOU DAD. And that's Oscar night for me. :)
 To be fair, she had a really good reason.
 I'm also not recapping because I can't bear to talk about my movie star husband's loss. Clive, I'm here for you. And you looked amazing.
 Let me just say that my dad is a brilliant man. He is extremely smart, but one could argue that he's one of those smart people that lacks a little...common sense? Yeah.
 Also, he is in NO WAY a racist. I know the story might seem a little...but please just consult footnote 3 and trust me. He's not.