Oscar buzz

I'm on it simply because it's so bizarre.  Can you imagine the amount of Botox that's been injected over the last two weeks?  And not just in faces either.  Because those dresses are so expensive, and usually borrowed, almost all of the stars get Botox injected into their underarms, to prevent perspiration.  I am serious.  You think those gals aren't nervous....you bet they are, and nothing would be worse than stepping out of your limo, coiffed within an inch of your life, with big sweat rings on your dress.  And if they inject their armpits, let's just say they shoot everywhere they could possibly perspire, prior to hitting an overdose.  I am not joking.  And then there is the exercising, waxing, plucking, spray tanning, the buffing, the fluffing, the moisturizing, the nails, the hair coloring, and the hair snipping timed perfectly so as not to have that just snipped look.  

And then the big day arrives, and though you haven't eaten in weeks, you still can't, because you have to squeeze into all those Spanx, to hold in whatever meat you still have left on your bones.  Then your stylist tapes your boobs to hold everything just so.  Next, it takes three people to pour you into your dress and it's so tight, the thought of sitting down for three hours in it makes you want to faint.  And did I mention you're still hungry??  Yeah, that too.  Once you're finally dressed and ready, you climb into your limo, with a bar inside, knowing if you drink anything, well, you're gonna have to tinkle.  And you already know you are going to be snaking along, in that l-o-n-g line of limo's, eating all that car exhaust for hours, needing to tinkle.  Bad.  Real bad.....'cause you're really nervous.

  And once you finally arrive, the bathrooms are inside the Kodak Theater, so you have to do that long walk of shame, being interviewed and asked "who you are wearing", before you can hit the litter box.  All of this must be done with that sultry look on your face, when all you really care about is.... well, you know.  And then you have to wait in line with all the other gals, and when you finally think you've made it, you have to peel off  those Spanx, assuming you wore any underwear at all or wedge up your dress.  Then there's the check to be sure you didn't catch your dress in your Spanx, leaving your business hanging out or dipped your dress in the toilet.....and you still haven't eaten.  Check the spackling job on your makeup, review your acceptance speech, check your teeth, before leaving.  Check, check, check.  Now, you sit for three hours.

I don't know about you but by now, I'm exhausted.  What if, God forbid, the powers that be don't even like your dress and you get slammed as Worst Dressed, only to be shown over and over again on ET.  And then you don't win....and your Jimmy Choo's are killing you.  Then it's time to turn in those borrowed jewels and hey, I don't want to.  I wanna keeeeep mine.  But at least you finally get to eat.  That food better be damn good after all that.