I'm off for my superbowl.
Mr. Shakes and I are heading to a friend's house where we will do our annual Oscar thing, which mainly consists of a fierce competition over our winner projections, lots of snarky commentary, and the obligatory moaning about how dumb the Oscars are, even though we all love it.
I'm hoping that between Jon Stewart hosting and Brokeback Mountain sure to pick up some golden statuettes, there will be much exploding of conservative heads across America's great landscape tonight.
If Clooney manages to scrape out a win for Best Supporting Actor, tilt your ears southward and listen for the dull scrape that is the sound of millions of collectively gnashing teeth.
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