Oh Oscars! We love you so hard! The Dog hasn’t slept a wink and here in Australia it’s 11.30am and a public holiday so that means we get to break out the claret for breakfast and snark until we pass out in a pool of what looks like Ireland Baldwin’s dress! Yay!
Speaking of Ireland Baldwin – did anyone actually invite her? Rico reckons he’s wracking his brains but all he can think of is that she’s an Instagram whore and that her dad sincerely regrets calling her a rude, thoughtless little pig on voicemail when what he really meant was A-Grade Cunt.
Anyhoo, invited or not, here she is, and the Dog reckons that, despite her leg looking like a lab sample from the movie Species, we should really give her credit for being a very tall person who hasn’t yet woken up married to Tom Cruise.
But let’s get down to the actual stars, shall we?
Hi Anne Hathaway!
Ok Annie, so last year was all about your nipples and all the weight you lost for Les Mis that made you look like a brunette pre-Ellen Portia De Rossi, and this year I guess it’s about how you’ve realised that Size 0 is actually super awesome and that Kale salad is TOTALLY filling if you eat it while looking at pictures of Kelly Osbourne. Also, have you recently discovered Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome or do you just want to prevent perverts getting photos of your nipples and then gushing ‘it came true!’
Anyhoo, let’s jump back a few lines to Portia De Rossi!
Portia, both the Dog and I have read Unbearable Lightness and we both enjoyed your descriptions of Ally McBeal and how wardrobe treated you like an adult walrus attempting to squeeze into Renee Zellweger’s culottes. We also liked reading how Ellen met you at your chubbiest in recovery, and how she still couldn’t wait to get her hands down your standard lesbian-issue knee shorts. Therefore, even though your dress is rather superbly flawless (and we don’t give that accolade away lightly), we don’t feel we can high five you because you look like the last time food passed your lips it was last Tuesday, and that said food was delivered on a plate the size of a testicle.
But speaking of standard lesbian-issue knee shorts…
So Pharrel is at the Oscars because his song Happy is nominated for best song and he’s figured that this is the best time to announce his decision to quit music and jump straight into one of the coveted lead roles in The Elves and the Shoemaker.
Rico reckons he’s totally got the legs for it and that the casting of a black man in a traditionally white role is super-confronting and could totally set next year’s award season ON FIRE – if only the shoe maker wasn’t being played by that trophy-snatching slut, Jennifer Lawrence.
And speaking of:
Jennifer, this is rather tailored and flattering and lovely, but we’ve got just one teeny, tiny question for you: did you leave your eyebrows in your other pants?
Rico reckons the truth is that we often forget just how young Jennifer Lawrence is and that she probably just got hammered at the pre-Oscars dinner, got loaded into the back of Julia Roberts’ minivan and, well, helllloooo Phinneas at 3am wielding a lady shaver.
But who cares about missing eyebrows when Margot Robbie suddenly has enough for everyone!
And for the close-up:
Margot, let’s just get one thing straight: just because you’ve dyed your hair black (probably for a shot at avoiding the post The Wolf of Wall Street typecasting – amIright?) doesn’t mean you have to make the same mistake that so many other new blackies make in thinking that gigantaNORMOUS eyebrows are suddenly a TOTALLY FREAKING AWESOME idea. Remember when Angelina Jolie turned up to the Oscars looking like this? Do you also remember what happened next? No, not the bit where she won the Golden Globe and the Oscar, the bit where she PASHED HER OWN BROTHER.
Coincidence? I think NOT!
Hey, now that we’re talking about Angelina…
Look who’s out to steal her Fame Whore Leg Crown!
Or IS she?
Rico reckons she’s doing nothing of the sort and that her leg is simply making a break from a dress that looks like something a depressed Molly Ringwald would have cobbled together in the Emo sequel to Pretty in Pink.
Who’s next? Oh that’s right, Jennifer Garner.
Now tell us Jenny – just between friends – did your stylist come to you with something in blue or red or tangerine and you just slapped that shit out of their hands and wept for the days when dresses were so colourless and drab you could take your kids to the playground and get barfed up lunch on it and no-one would care? Because if that IS the case, we totally get this dress.
If not – well – we fucking HATE it.
Speaking of hate…
This is bound to get plenty – but not from us because we think this is an exercise in sateen pant-suited pefection, especially with the flat shoes, the color coordination, the avalanching braless breasts – oh the list goes on!
Eliza, we don’t care why you chose this outfit – we’re just glad that you did and, in doing so, let Cate Blanchett, Charlize Theron, Lupita Nyongo and all those other nicely dressed girls know that the next time they want to inject the hard dick of glamour into their outfits, all they need is some hair mascara and a single sleeve long enough to conceal the Vicodin. Hooray!
Next up (and we must be super careful what we say here) is Gabourey Sidibe:
Let’s start off with what works: the colour, the fabric, the cut.
Now let’s move onto what doesn’t: the face.
Gabourey, we’re chuffed you were on your way to your dream job when all the hate came in on your last outfit – and we’re even more chuffed that you learned a lesson from that hate, switched your stylist and had the first one thrown into a deep fryer and served up for brunch. What we think you need to work on now is your face because, forgive us for judging from economy-class on the way to a job interview for Bitter Cunts RS, you kinda look like Mel Gibson has just taken a mad, drunk dump in front of you and, fatty or no fatty, that’s just not a good look for the cameras.
Speaking of someone who once starred with Mel Gibson, what’s that you’ve got in your bodice Goldie Hawn?
Seriously, what IS that? Rico reckons it looks like a Malteser she’s saving for later, but I reckon it’s a bit big for chocolate and more likely to be some sort of alarm device that goes off whenever her daughter makes uterus-eyes at another lank-haired, pasty musician.
Speaking of lank-haired:
Really, Naomi Watts? I just don’t understand! Are you trying out a new Vaseline-based hair product? Was it given to you by a short, grey-haired woman holding a Corgi because, between you and me, I don’t think you should expect many invitations to Windsor Palace after portraying Diana as a woman who would prefer Sayid from Lost over a man with gigantic ears and a mistress with a face like a maximum security prison dog.
Rico reckons the saddest part of all is she’s usually so damn well put-together and that Nicole Kidman isn’t even there for her to stand next to and feel good about having a face that can still register disgust at Ryan Seacrest getting past security.
And last, but most certainly not least:
Yes, yes, Elsa Pataky is pregnant, but – forgive us if we are too drunk to function – doesn’t her dress kinda give you shades of this:
Is carrying around kegs of beer the way Chris Hemsworth really got so muscly? Does she really drink straight out of the tap?
I also don’t understand how she can turn her head that far round. Is there a remake of Death Becomes Her that I’m not aware of? Will Meryl and Goldie make cameos? Will they get upset when Elsa comes on set, beltches out her lines and then exits in a cloud of lager-breath?
I guess only time and many boxes of 4-litre love will tell.
Anyhoo, in summary, the 2014 Oscars red carpet was a wondrous wardrobe spectacle. And as the Dog and Rico snore gently amid the goon bags, I can go to bed with the satisfaction of knowing that the only thing that could possibly have brought me greater joy would have been Jen Aniston wearing a wedding ring set fashioned like a giant IVF baby.
That and Sandra Bullock being the one to trip on the red carpet and somehow managing to take the entire cast and crew of Gravity with her.