Again this year we go to Dana & Lois’s house for the Oscar party. Gordon & Babs & Ally are there, along with Dana, Lois, Mark and some guy named Steve. We fill out our ballots, Dawn making all personal picks while I go with what buzz I’ve stolen from the Los Angeles Times, since we’ve seen exactly zero movies up for awards tonight. Dawn & I love Jon Stewart, so we really like him as host. The rest of the crowd are not fans, so they just think he’s so-so.
There are a lot of commercials for L’Oreal, with Andie MacDowell and Penélope Cruz. I keep waiting and waiting, and complaining bitterly, for Aishwarya Rai to appear, and finally she does, although there’s too much discussion and talk of the product and not enough Ash. Babs mentions that Ash is engaged, to whoever is the biggest male Bollywood star. I hadn’t heard this, and I wonder who it could be. She used to be sorta engaged to Salman Khan, but since she’s Hindu and he’s Mulsim, that would never happen. The biggest Bollywood star is probably Shahrukh Khan. But, again, probably Muslim. The only other name I can think of is Aamir Khan.
I’m disappointed that out of all the clips they show of Brokeback Mountain, we never see the lovers kiss. The clips from the rest of the movies are fairly dull, although I do now want to see Good Night and Good Luck and Crash.
At the end of the night, I’ve got 20 out of 25 right, and Gordon and I tie for first place in the pool. Dawn is disgusted with me for not having any picks of my own and just going with the LA Times. Even Ally has seen more of the movies than I have. I tell everyone that it’s like I’m eight years old again, not having seen any of the movies and having trouble staying up way past my bedtime. The show ends at a civilized 11:30 or so, but we have to drive back home to the city, so it’s after midnight by the time we crawl into bed.
 Research the next day reveals that Ash may, or may not, be engaged to Abhishek Bachchan. While he has finally started demonstrating some star wattage after a number of years in the business, I don’t know if he could yet be called the biggest male star. He is more famous, of course, for being the son of the biggest star of them all, the king of all time, the most famous man in the world, Amitabh Bachchan. And, apparently, the three Khans are all already married. But, turns out, Salman Khan has two wives.
 The next morning I find my notes of my research on Friday for my Oscar picks. I realize that, because of the way the first page of my printout breaks, I screwed up my vote for best foreign language picture. I was supposed to have gone with Tsotsi, and Tsotsi did indeed win. And I had thought the LAT’s clear choice was Paul Giamatti for supporting actor, but a closer look clearly shows that Giamatti and George Clooney had tied in the critics’ picks. I would totally have gone with Clooney had I realized that at the time. That’s two more that I should have gotten. (I screwed up a third one, just plain mis-marking cinematography for Batman Begins rather than Brokeback Mountain. But Memoirs of a Geisha won, so I would’ve been wrong anyway.)