Oscar

Ah, Academy Award Sunday. The one night of the year when I own the TV. When the awards are on, the rules are simple: you don't talk to Jenn unless spoken to. You don't check sports scores during commercials. You don't walk in front of the TV. You don't ask Jenn to do anything that will involve leaving the livingroom.

Okay, I'm exaggerating a bit... but only a bit.

This afternoon, Brian and I each made our list of predicted winners, I'm going to make Mario do the same after dinner. Whoever gets the most right will win, although we still haven't determined what the prize will be. Brian was all over this particular challenge. That kid slays me, unbelievable that the tiny baby I gave life to can look me in the eye and explain Djimon Hounsou's merits. Funny, funny kid.

I won't get into my picks (or why I picked them), but I will offer this opinion: Any year that Clint Eastwood puts out a movie, the Academy should just save everybody some time and declare him Best Director. Maybe that way the show would end on time.