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February 26, 2008

Oscars Fug Carpet & Ceremony: Diablo Cody

Today, we encountered several people who said one of the following to us:

1) "Oh, GOD, are you actually HAPPY Diablo Cody won for writing Juno?"

2) "Oh, GOD, are you one of THOSE people who are PISSED Diablo Cody won for writing Juno?"

Personally, and shallowly, I'm stoked for her -- everyone loves a stripper-to-screenwriter tale (or at least I do, especially if she has an evil twin lurking somewhere), so I say let her have the bronzed naked dude. It's just a trophy. And if it turns out she's secretly the daughter of a wealthy oilman who only stripped out of self-indulgent fascination with her own nipples, well, whatever. That's between her and her therapist.

Who, it's worth noting, may be getting paid overtime to counsel Cody through her Oscar fashion debut.

Objection #1: This feels a bit off-the-rack, which is fine when you're at an Oscar viewing party but not when you're viewing it from your awesome seat at the Kodak alongside the people you're about to beat. It has no shape. It's billowy. I'm pretty sure someone's slutty grandmother in Boca Raton wore this to Red Lobster on Unlimited Shrimp Night in the hope that she could eat all she wanted and still get groped by Original-Teeth Jim. If she didn't use a stylist, she should have -- most of them were probably clamoring to clothe her; she was the unanimous choice to win in our GFY HQ office poll (Intern George abstained because he was busy, or something), and you know she's going to make it in Us. GIVE your services to her, folks.

If Diablo did have a stylist, here's Objection #2: That person is BORING. Like, Cold Mountain boring. Ivanhoe boring. Or, more relevantly, 80th Annual Academy Awards boring. I like a good animal print, but when you're outfitting an unusual and rebellious sort, it's the laziest and easiest choice (except for black, possibly) if you are trying to say, "Hey, CHECK IT OUT, this woman is unusual and rebellious!" Diablo could look bitchin' in a bunch of colors and cuts that wouldn't blunt her edge, so stop sleeping on the job, people.

Objection #3: Yes, there is something really charming about a woman who clearly didn't pick her dress by thinking, "Okay, but how's it going to look when I win?" However, seriously, you're at the OSCARS. Even if you're Entertainment Weekly's 100-1 shot, you HAVE to pick your dress by thinking, "Okay, but how's it going to look when I win?" Otherwise, this happens:

AWKWARD. How do you NOT do a quick crotch-check before you leave the house? As she strode up to the podium, Diablo tried uncomfortably to hold her hand over The Area. As she walked offstage, she tugged at her dress while doing the same. And when she hugged Harrison Ford, she probably said, "Oh my GOD, Han, I think the front row just saw that my bikini line is waxed in the shape of Jason Bateman's face." And listen, we all loved David Hogan, Derek from Silver Spoons, and Michael Bluth, but a woman's genitals are her own private kingdom. So WALK in the dress. Take it for a test-drive. Practice your acceptance speech in the mirror, and make sure that your birth canal isn't inviting Jack Nicholson for a pleasure cruise while you're dedicating your award to the producers and The Children and what-have-you. It doesn't make you an egomaniac if you say to your neighbor, your boyfriend, or your Dynasty commemorative plate, "Hey, when I walk, do my genitals wink at you?" And it's worth it to forestall Jack arriving at your house with an oar in one hand and a life-vest in the other.

Posted by Heather at 10:26 AM in Oscars | Permalink

 

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