Make It Stop

Wake up, James Franco

All night, the SJG kept telling Cuzzy, commander of the remote control, to make it better, make it faster, make it stop. He gave it his best shot.  He pushed buttons and arrows and did some fancy high-tech maneuvers, but had no power over the Academy Awards.  Cuzzy couldn't make James Franco snap out of it, wake up and join the party.  JF looked so uncomfortable on stage, so get-me-out-of-here,  so-what-was-I-thinking, that I felt a little sorry for him, but not much.  Most of all, I felt tricked by all those funny promos that filled me with glee. I may have said the following:  This might be better than I thought.  Alas. The SJG was wrong, which is a very rare occurrence.  Anne Hathaway looked pretty in all her gowns, and tried very, very hard to overcompensate for her lackluster co host, but in the end, the whole dealio was a great big bombski.  Oh, it was painful on many levels.  Young demo, my tuchas.  Bring back the altacockers.  Bring back Billy Crystal.

A Call From Santa Cruz

I kinda lost my jacket.
How do you lose a jacket?
I left it somewhere.
Where?
My friend's dorm.  In the lounge.
Did someone take it?
Maybe.  I don't know. 
That was a nice jacket.
It kept me really warm.
Did you try to find it?
I looked around.  It's not there.
So it's definitely lost.
Yeah.  I'm sorry.
How do you lose a jacket?
I was a little drunk.

SJG Oscar Predictions

The SJG predicts the following may or may not happen at the 2011 Academy Awards:  Queen Elizabeth will present Best Picture.  Rooster Cogburn's horse will present Best Supporting Animal.  The Real Housewives of Sherman Oaks will present Best Supporting Bitch.  James Franco and Anne Hathaway will do a lengthy musical tribute to "Fiddler on the Roof."

Oscar Wear

Blunt Cards: snarky & hilarious

For my cuzzy's intimate Oscar gathering, I'll be wearing my inner-beauty.  Wrapping my heart in Vera Wang, pumping up my soul in Loubutins, detailing my aura in Tiffany. I'm schlepping the finery out of storage, hiring a stylist to bring out my love of humanity, my interior Mother Teresa.  Should the crew from "What Not To Wear" drop by, to trash the personal mishegas I've worked so hard to own; should the fashion police declare me too dated on the inside, too "last season," I promise you, I will bring them down.  You heard it here first, bitches. 

The Vocal Coach From Hell

"Bury her ass on stage!  Tap-right-dance on her tongue!" -- Peggi Blu, vocal coach from hell.  Definitely the new gal to hate, as mean and abusive as they come.  The SJG no likey.  She's just all kinds of wrong.  Here's hoping her journey on "A.I." ends soon.

Tonight On NCIS: Sherman Oaks

Has anyone seen the SJG?

When classified Naval documents are uploaded to Short Jewish Gal, a popular blog site, "NCIS: Sherman Oaks" works really hard to stop some bad stuff from happening.  The handsome and super hunky stars track down the fetching owner of the blog site, Carol Starr Schneider, in her kitchen, cooking a nice chicken, but very miffed that someone used her site without asking first. The NCIS boys sit down and have a nosh and discuss what up with that.  After the commerical break, the dudes trade off dancing with the SJG in the living room.  One of them says, "Let's see those jazz hands," and she obliges. Delicious mandel bread and fruit compote soon follow.  The handsome and super hunky stars promise to show the baddies who's in charge, plus figure out top-secret such n' such before the end of the episode.  Best of all, they give the SJG their word they'll return for Passover.  "We hear you make a wonderful brisket," they say.  "I won't deny it," says the SJG, and sends them off with a care package in case they get hungry later.

Shrubbery!

“First you must find... another shrubbery! Then, when you have found the shrubbery, you must place it here, beside this shrubbery, only slightly higher so you get a two layer effect with a little path running down the middle. Then, you must cut down the mightiest tree in the forest... with... a herring!” In honor of Monty Python, not to mention GW and the other prezzies, hubby cut down, not a cherry tree, but a heap of shrubbery.  What started as "a little trimming" turned into a whole lot of tsuris.  Short of a bonfire in the streets of Sherman Oaks, don't ask me how he plans to get rid of the branches, but then, this is not the SJG's department.  Why can't he just play golf like other dudes on their day off?