Last year I went to an Oscar party hosted by a grad student and her spouse. When guests walked in to the party, a sticker bearing the name of a previous best actor or actress winner was stuck to their back where they couldn't see, and then everyone got to go around trying to figure out who they were by asking questions about themselves. I knew I was on to something when I asked if I played a serial killer and I got looks like I was getting warm.
But it wasn't until we were all settled in watching the ceremonies and I noticed a few people cast unconscious glances my way when the camera cruised by Philip Seymour Hoffman that I flashed on who I was and why I'd won: Capote! One of my colleagues was Jon Voight, and I was the only one besides the hosts who even knew how to answer the person's questions, and not even that well. Yep, it was a young crowd--so young that some didn't seem to even remember when Hilary Swank won for Boys Don't Cry, or maybe I gave some bad clues. A totally fun night. And tasty chili and cookies.
The hostess of that party has moved on to a new job (
sighyay), and so tonight I will watch the Oscars while snuggling with a whippet, eating my own damn cookies, and maybe--if I'm lucky--chatting online with E.