Worst. Oscars. Ever.

Good lord, it's 11:46 and so far, the only moderately interesting part of the Oscars has been: watching Eddy Murphy lose, watching Jennifer Hudson win, and, um, that is seriously it. Oh, wait, here comes the montage of dead people. (The dad from A Christmas Story died? Oh, that actually makes me kind of sad for a moment.) But seriously, this program is into its fourth hour and I am actually starting to fear that I tuned into the night they give out all the boring technical awards in some at some hotel banquet room luncheon to teams of people with accents you can't identify and with names you've never heard of. Also, Ellen, you have let me down.

Oh lord (again) Phillip Seymour Hoffman was just introduced with a phrase that involved "sexiest man alive." I'm going to go bang my head against something, perhaps our TV. Let me know how it ends.