Hey There, It's Christa!

An Open Letter to the Academy

Dear Academy,

You'd think after the whole James Franco/Anne Hathaway hosting fiasco of last year that I would've been smart enough to at least DVR the Oscars so I can skip through the boring parts.

But considering a bona fide Oscar veteran, Billy Crystal, was taking the reins this time around, well, I was willing to give the whole shebang another chance.

And while I'm thrilled that last night's ceremony wasn't nearly as cringeworthy as the great Franco meltdown of 2011, I still expected more. In fact, if I may be so bold to ask, I'd like my three hours back (I'd say four, but watching E!'s red carpet coverage was my own fault).

Since you went the whole traditional route with selecting Crystal as the host, I wasn't expecting anything laugh-out-loud funny or even edgy in the manner of say, Ricky Gervais. But I didn't think they'd have that stale, just-fished-out-of-mothballs feel either.

Heck, I probably got the biggest kick out of Sasha Baron Cohen dumping Bisquick baking mix all over Ryan Seacrest on the red carpet, and that was a good hour before the Oscars even began. Once the show started, I laughed exactly twice. The first time was when Chris Rock introduced the Animation category, and later on, the chuckles came courtesy of Will Ferrell and Zach Galifianakis playing the cymbals (a cowbell would've been funnier, but hey, I'll take what I could get laughs-wise).

The trouble is, the rest of the show show was downright B-O-R-I-N-G, and when you start out with a technical award that most people don't care about, it sets a bad precedent for the rest of the evening. So in the spirit of being helpful, here are a few suggestions (in no particular order) for future Oscar telecasts.

Stop being so stuffy and give comedy its proper due. I know, I know, you threw Bridesmaids a couple of bones. But everyone knew there was no way Melissa McCarthy was taking home a golden statue for "Best Supporting Actress" when she's up against very deserving "serious" competition like Octavia Spencer. Even as much as I loved last night's big winner, The Artist, it might be nice for the films and actors that everyone loves to get a little recognition, too. After all, being funny isn't exactly easy—just ask the majority of today's modern rom-com screenwriters (yes, I'm calling you out, This Means War).

Axe those superfluous film montages. I get it. You want us to feel all warm and fuzzy about the filmgoing experience. But instead of nostalgic, all you're really doing is making us want to watch those movies instead of this long, boring telecast that highlights flicks most people haven't bothered watching yet.

And while you're at it...As much as I'd like to get excited about the "Best Art Direction" and "Best Sound Editing" categories, I just can't, and I'm sure I'm not alone. Why not save these awards for the pre-telecast and save some major minutes?

Fire the stylists. I know the fashion part of the show isn't technically in your jurisdiction, but work with me for a second. How much fun would the Oscars be if these Hollywood folks dressed themselves? Leave them to their own styling, and the show would probably be 1,453% more interesting. Take Meryl Streep for example. There's no way a stylist would let her leave the house in what she wore to the Golden Globes, SAG Awards, even last night when she was channeling Frieda from ABBA. So how much fun would it be if everyone had the same freedom? I'm guessing the outfits would've made for far more exciting watercooler chatter...

Limit the "Best Picture" nominees to 5. Nine is exactly four too many.

I'm sure if I gave it more thought, I could've come up with a few more surefire ways to improve the annual tradition of Hollywood honoring Hollywood, but I'm afraid I'm out of ideas for now. All I can say is, aside from the color of Penelope Cruz's dress and Octavia's teary acceptance speech, there wasn't much that was inspiring about The Oscars.

One can only hope that'll change soon because I promise, I won't be fooled again. No matter who's hosting, I'll be DVRing, Academy, because Sunday nights are a precious commodity.

Sincerely,

Christa Banister, disgrunted entertainment critic

P.S. Could you please send Angelina a sandwich? She looked particularly hungry last night.

 

You'd Think Being Nice During Communion Was a No-Brainer But...

If you're within 100 feet of, say, Gordon Ramsey, it wouldn't exactly be surprising if he barked at you for any number of reasons—justified and otherwise.

But when you're at church taking Communion of all things, you'd expect people, especially church leadership, to have a certain sense of decorum during this most sacred of moments.

Right?

Well, apparently, I was wrong. Big time. We had Communion at church yesterday, and after taking my cracker from the plate passed to me from the right, I passed it left, only to discover that the young woman sitting next to me was already holding a silver plate of her own. Laughing for a second at this funny little coincidence, I decided it was probably best to hold my plate until somebody came by to pick it up.

As I waited for the next step, though, I was quickly—and quite loudly—informed by the Gordon Ramsey of Communion that I needed to PASS THE PLATE immediately. I tried explaining how everyone, to the left and right of me, had already gotten their bread, but he didn't seem to care in the least. Instead, he shot me the look of death, refused to take my plate and probably walked away thinking I was basically the dumbest person on the planet.

Not taking kindly to a complete stranger being so rude to his wife—at CHURCH of all places—my hubby immediately walked to the back to have a word with the guy. But instead of offering a simple "I'm sorry" for the misunderstanding, the Communion dictator was only intent on ending the conversation as soon as possible, lest anyone nearby get wind of it.

For whatever reason, he didn't think he was even remotely out of line because he "has a responsibility to make sure 3,000 people have their Communion elements" and "some people just don't know what to do when the plate is passed."

Yeah, that "someone" is me, apparently, although last time I checked, you didn't need to be a Mensa candidate to know how to properly pass a Communion plate.

If anything, the whole situation just left me cold. While I'll, no doubt, forget about this soon enough, what if I'd never been to church before, and this was my first impression of how Christians in leadership behaved? And really, aren't you missing the point of Communion, and even going to church, if you're freaking out about something as small as a plate not being passed in what you believe is a timely manner?

Plus, if someone thinks you're being rude, isn't the right course of action to say you're sorry, rather than school someone on your "responsibility?" The last time I checked, the mission of anyone working in church leadership is to serve, not reprimand.

These are just the sorts of instances that give Christians, not to mention church, a bad reputation. You'd think being nice during Communion was a no-brainer, but I guess it's not. Really, one can only hope this guy will chill out and get his act together before souring someone else's Sunday morning. Or at least train his staff better so two plates don't (gasp!) end up in the same row.

Grammys 2012: The Good, the Bad, the Truly Bizarre

It's been happening for a while now, but it wasn't until last night that it hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks...

I'm getting O-L-D.

If anything stuck out about last night's Grammys, it's that there's now a pretty sizable disparity between what the masses apparently think is cool (Chris Brown and glowsticks, anyone?) and what I happen to enjoy.

In fact, it wasn't long before I was (gasp!) slipping into grumpy ol' mother territory. Not only did I think that Fergie should've been ordered to put an actual dress over the orange see-through lace contraption she was wearing, but that someone (her publicist, stylist, manager, mother, anyone really) should've let Katy Perry know that her promotional obligations for the Smurfs movie were actually over last summer.

Let's just say that I don't think blue's her color, whether it was the sky blue sparkly variety she sported on the red carpet or the hair that looked roughly the shade of anti-freeze when pinned up or like the Cookie monster's rather unfortunate gal pal when it was all bobbed and crimped.

While we're on the subject of the former Mrs. Brand, don't even get me going on that "song" she lip-synced. How she has five #1 singles from Teenage Dream is an absolute head-scratcher—can someone please explain her allure to me? And no, your answer can't include anything about her costumes' bonus features...

While the Perry performance was awkward, however, "awkward" would've been a flattering description of the whole Nicki Minaj performance/exorcism. Who knew that Lady Gaga showing up as an egg last year would seem downright normal in comparison?

What also could be classified as a total Grammy #fail is giving Chris Brown not one, but two performing slots. Seriously, when did beating up your girlfriend suddenly become okay? I'm all for forgiving and forgetting, but shining the spotlight on this guy is just plain uncool. Wait at least a decade, and then we'll talk.

Lest you think I'm a total pop culture kill-joy, in a night chock full of misfires, there was a few moments I thoroughly enjoyed. Seeing Adele (rightfully) win all those trophies and giggle her way through her acceptance speeches, for one. Being treated to not one, but two doses of Foo Fighters was a total bonus, too. Even Coldplay's somewhat pitchy performance made me smile, while I had to leave the room when Jennifer Hudson started belting out "I Will Always Love You" because I knew I'd tear up big time. My suspicions were confirmed in the privacy of my office today when I watched her sing on YouTube. Yep, I totally needed to fix my raccoon eyes.

Perhaps, the nicest surprise of all was seeing Bon Iver score that "Best New Artist" trophy. While he's not a "new artist" in the least (to wit, he's been making music for more than five years now, illustrious Academy), I was thrilled to pieces when the fellow northern Wisconsite won. Bonus points for giving America's Dairyland a shout-out in your acceptance speech, by the way...

All things considered, I'm (mostly) glad I tuned in, and it provided a few stunning and not-so-stunning revelations to boot. I actually enjoyed the Glen Campbell tribute, something I thought I'd never say. Ditto for the Beach Boys. I also thought LL Cool J did a great job of maintaining a respectful tone as the host, given the surprising change of events with Whitney Houston's unexpected passing.

But in what's been a pretty great year for music these past 12 months, I still couldn't help feeling a little disappointed by the lack of diversity. I mean, did we really need the Carrie Underwood/Tony Bennett duet of big band staple "It Had to Be You?" Was anyone's life really changed by that Bruno Mars performance?

Last but certainly not least, let's talk Taylor Swift for a moment. Now as wonderful as I think it is for young girls to have a fully clothed role model, isn't a standing ovation for her glorified hoedown a bit much? Or am I just much too old to see the inherent genius of Taylor channeling someone probably named Daisy Mae?

Discuss please.

The Green Smoothie Experiment

I like smoothies. Always have, especially when mango is involved.

And after my plan for eating healthier officially went out the window when our fridge suddenly decided it was time to visit the appliance afterlife (the fact that it was Super Bowl week certainly didn't help matters either), I've been trying to gravitate toward more healthy fare ever since.

One of things I keep seeing healthy people consistently rave about are green smoothies. Now I'll be honest, whenever I see one, I instantly start thinking about the nasty green gunge that Rene Russo's character always insisted on drinking in The Thomas Crowne Affair, but I like the idea of them in theory. You get your fruit, your veggies all in one place—sort of like V8 without the unpleasant acid reflux that comes with drinking tomato juice.

Armed with the recipe I saw on a friend of mine's Facebook page, I finally womaned up and decided the only way to know if these green smoothies were the secret to my future well-being was to (gasp!) try one myself. So I put in the banana, the peanut butter, the soy milk, the why-in-the-world-is-this-so-thick Greek yogurt, and it looked pretty good until...

Yep, you guessed it, the spinach.

Since I was making a half recipe, I needed two whole cups of the green stuff. But as I started measuring it out, I thought maybe I'd go just a little shy the first time, so I opted for 1 1/2 instead.

Throwing in some ice for good measure since a lukewarm green smoothie basically sounded like the stomach flu in a glass, I whirled and whirled the mixture around in the blender 'til it looked the right consistency, poured it in a glass, briefly contemplated throwing it down the sink and finally, I drank it.

The verdict? It's not soooo bad, considering you're drinking spinach. I mean, peanut butter makes anything better in my opinion, but I doubt these green smoothies will be on my breakfast menu on a regular basis.

So green smoothie fanatics, is there a way to actually enjoy these or do you just suck it up in the name of good health? Also, are there any add-ins that make the experience a little more tolerable? Really, I'm all ears...