My boobs stopped watching the Oscars and went to dinner

Weird show.  The start of the Oscars was choppy.  That Boob song was not right for a show at 5:30pm that the entire family is watching, but moreover it wasn’t funny.  I liked seeing stars perform instead of sitting in their seats.  I could watch Channing Tatum do…absolutely…any…thing.  But, the “let’s make it about me” Seth Mcfarlane thing was cringy.

Last year my brother in law Kevin Tent was nominated for best editing for “The Descendants”.  NOW that was exciting.  For four years I had to watch the show with an eagle eye on fashion as the co host of the now defunct “The Fashion Team” on TV Guide Channel.  With no dog in the fight I was inclined to be less interested.  Although, I like a lot of the films this year.  ”Silver Linings Playbook” was my big favorite.  Watching this year with my sisters  and their families I got antsy.  I wanted to go see my husband.  This past weekend Mark did his first ever pop up.

A pop up is a temporary restaurant.  A chef will take over an empty restaurant space, or one that closes at night, make a limited menu for a limited number of days.  I arranged for Mark to do this with a group called This is not a pop up.  It was the first time he would be cooking for the public since Campanile closed.  I know he misses the interaction he had with his customers.  Unlike when he had the full staff of Campanile he and his chef de cuisine Chris Eddy made everything.  The cookies, ice cream, cheese grits, broth, everything from scratch, themselves.

Mark with line cook Jay, chef de cuisine Chris. Together again. Campanile in Exile

The weekend had gone well, but Oscars would take customers.  So I thought, “Why am I watching a bunch of millionaires win trophies when I could be supporting my hard working, talented husband?”  Carole came with me and we had Mark’s Oscar special “Argo fuck yourself lamb with mint yogurt.”  ( it’s a line in the film, takes place in Middle East)

Mark and my sister Carole at the pop up

Delish.  It’s a small place so we talked to the people next to us and convinced them to vote for Eric Garcetti for mayor.  We had the homemade creme fraiche ice cream with prunes marinated in brandy and shortbread cookies.

When we got back Cecily rewound the DVR for us so we could see Striesand sing “The way we were”  dang, that was good.  The Michele Obama thing looked odd.  If Ang Lee hadn’t won I would have won the Oscar pool.  Instead, my nephew won. Rex was asleep on the couch, Viv was exhausted.  Packed them up and went home with extra shortbread cookies in my bag for the morning.

Next year, unless someone I know is nominated, I think I will DVR the whole thing and sit out the live telecast.  I like to see the big numbers, the tribute to dead people, but the cringy, inappropriate stuff, I will pass on.

Speaking of pass…honey, pass me more of that mint yogurt you made.