Hugh Jackman Hosts Oscars: Shares Spike in Smelling Salts Company



It's official. Huge Hunkman is hosting the 2009 Academy Awards.

That's right. In the big format shakeup slated to bring viewers back to the Oscars fold, the decision was made to put comedians on the back burner and instead, choose the man best qualified to bring them back in droves: The Drover. Oh, who do they think they are kidding! They really chose the man most women want, a heck of a lot of men want and the rest of the men secretly want to be: Hugh Jackman.

Although it is touted as a break from tradition, I'm almost at the worship point of imagining him soft-shoe shuffling on water, so a sudden display of comedic timing would not surprise me in the slightest. And since he is said to be so short-sighted that he has difficulties reading teleprompters (but he will likely memorise his lines - beauty and brains, sigh), I wouldn't even put it past our Hugh to come up with his own impromptu material on the fly and go on to become the next big thing on Saturday Night Live. I do hope there's a bit of song and dance, too. Nothing says Awards Ceremony like an old fashioned choreography number and we know he won't put a foot wrong.

My only concern is that when it really boils down to it, we don't actually see that much of the host. Every category gives the excuse for another pair of glamorous celebs to amble out and steal precious minutes from quality time with our Hugh. I'm all for seeing celebs in their Sunday best, but not this year. We can check them out on the red carpet preview instead, thanks very much.

I might need to pick up some smelling salts, though. Hugh Jackman in a tux ... that's swooning material if ever I saw it! (Even my hubby agrees with me. Not that there's anything wrong with that ...)
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It's Beginning to Feel a Lot Like Christmas



If I woke up with amnesia and needed to find our mailbox, I’d only have to follow the trail of rolled up Christmas sales catalogues tossed over our fence.

We have a No Junk Mail sticker on it. How thoughtful that they comply by throwing the junk mail into the garden instead. Clearly we need a sticker with more explicit instructions.

The other day, I pulled a Christmas Card from my hubby's elderly aunt out of said mailbox. We were visiting her that very night but she seems to enjoy mailing our card come rain, hail or shine and we've had plenty of all three, so it was no surprise to find it there.

Aunt Teensy's (name changed to protect me) festive bake-up is as reliable as her Christmas Card. Each year, we have our Santa celebrations with her early in December (she has a very busy dance card and slots us in before the perm relaxes). This year, as always, she fondly sent us home with fruit cake, shortbread, coconut macaroons, jars of mixed lollies and mixed milk choc-coated indiscernibles. I nearly slipped into a sugar coma in the car and that was just from cradling them on my knees. Ironically, she has diabetes. I have to wonder if she is trying to live out her sweet cravings through us.

I don't usually eat lollies and mixed milk choc-coated indiscernibles. (Technical note: Dark chocolate is an antioxidant, not a lolly.) But I make a polite exception this time each year and snort my way through them at a cracking pace on the pretext of getting rid of them so that I'll stop eating them. (Somewhat like tidying up for the cleaner.) This year, however, the thought that the lollies could have been made in China and filled with melamine flitted through my head. Not that Aunt Teensy would have bought such things had she known, but I'm not sure if she keeps a finger on the pulse of world news nowadays or merely checks periodically to make sure it's still alive.

I couldn't look at the lollies in the same way after that and threw them away. I'm rather fond of my kidneys and have no desire for them to produce me some new kitchen cupboard doors. I believe we have shops for that kind of thing.
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