Wednesday, July 09, 2014

A little game called "Bad Idea Pony Of The Week"

I scroll through ads for houses I'll never live in and horses I'll never own.  It satisfies my need for being judgemental.  I can harshly criticize how people think they should decorate their houses when they're trying to sell them, and of course, bitch about how advertising a horse tends to bring out the stupidity in people. 

It turns into a game when I bring my husband into it.  Poor fella.  He gets regular emails from me featuring perfectly adorable and pretty much useless little teensy ponies and minis, all this while he's got like, eight musicians on the floor and the clock's ticking and he hasn't eaten in a few hours and there's probably a microphone cable somewhere in the building that's cacking out… and how can he concentrate when there's a picture on his iGadget of those little ears oh my gosh poking out of that fluffy mane eeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

Recently I've been seriously considering scraping together a few hundred bucks and buying a pony.  I like ponies and I don't think they're evil.  I think many don't get trained well because they're little and adults don't want to bother with them.  I, however, am about the size of the average 11 year old.  I am pony sized.

Also people tend to treat ponies like kittens instead of what they are, which is basically shrunk down draft horses - full sized attitudes.  And strong.  Are you aware of how freaking strong a Shetland pony is?  The strength to size ratio is crazy.

I have a flaw that makes me kind of want to go plunk down the $150 and take home the saddest skinniest dirtiest little pony standing in the middle of the slop yard.  BAD IDEA.

JETHRO:  That's a vet bill.  That's not a pony.  That's a pile of dewormer and corrective hoof trimming right there is what that is.

HEIDI: But I really think just being taken care of would do him a world of good.

JETHRO: Damage.  Damage from the day he was born.  He's equine garbage.

HEIDI: Some clean hay and water, a few hours a day on grass… some good firm handling and lots of pats and snuggles… he'd be good.

JETHRO: Please don't.

Then there's the pony who basically just needs a different place to live.

HEIDI: Honey check out this ad!  Broke to ride, good with kids, done parades and shows, need gone ASAP BECAUSE SHE DISCOVERED THE STUD DOWN THE ROAD AND WON'T STAY HOME ANYMORE!  Bwahahahahaha!  Are they gonna use the $500 to put up a new fence?  hahahaha!

JETHRO: Oh dear lord.

Of course there's the "miniature pony" thing which is kind of… not the same thing.  I mean, I sometimes have a hard time telling a small Shetland from a mini, especially if they aren't exactly well built specimens, but I always wonder if people actually know what they've got.

My favourite?  The Percheron Pony.

Ummmmmmm….?????  NO.

HEIDI: Here's one.  Not sure if broke, was being ridden before we got her, haven't tried since, easily jumps 3 ft.  So….

JETHRO: And that's how she discovered the stud down the road?

HEIDI: That's a different pony.

JETHRO: Different pony, same story.  BAD IDEA.

Of course there's this scenario…

JETHRO: I don't think the two for one pony idea is good.

HEIDI: Oh come on, you'd love a little foal running around here.

JETHRO:  You wouldn't.  You already said you don't want to fuss around with foaling.

HEIDI: But wouldn't it be fun just to see what the offspring of the mystery stud would turn out like?  Hee hee hee hee!

Seriously, why are half the pony mares advertised already knocked up?  Please don't answer that.  We haven't got all day here.

My favourite one is the little pinto mare with the crazy headgear.  She's got a halter on and over top of that, a strange looking bridle with a big honking curb bit with curved shanks.  Why even make a bit like that pony sized?  Are we cutting cattle with Shetlands?  And what's with that bridle?  I enlarge the picture on my iGadget.  Oh my.  Wow.  That's not a noseband.  That's the brow band.  It's halfway between her eyes and nostrils.

HEIDI: Oh look honey.  This one's broke to ride and drive and Heidi please get me out of here.

Truth is, I don't want the nasty run down sick unbroke pony.  As much as my soft heart wants to pluck them out of there and give them a good life here at the old homestead, I can't afford it.  Not with time or money.  And honestly, whenever we play Bad Idea Pony, I know exactly why it's a bad idea.

I have a cart upstairs in the barn that I can't get rid of even though we haven't used it in about 30 years.

I have pony sized tack.

I don't think I want three horses.

But two and a half might be okay.

I need to start inventing rules for a game called Good Idea Pony Of The Week.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014


Leaves on trees.

Grass is green.

Plants are growing.

Horses are sleek and fat and muscular.

I am sleeping well.

I ride two or three times a week, usually only a half hour, but it's okay.

The thing I'm writing has been put into paper form and is mostly covered with orange marks.

The barn and the house are still a disastrous mess but Whatever, right?

So far, so good...

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

I need a break. (And a tractor to deal with all the problems…)


I know at least four of you are waiting for me to tell you all about our trip to the Juno awards, which happened, like, three weeks ago.  And every day I think of more stuff I'd like to share with the world, or at least the seven of you who are still reading!

But it just ain't happening, folks.

This winter insists on dragging along… we had a few decent days of above-freezing weather, the snow banks were kind enough to melt slowly and not cause catastrophic floods, which was nice and I was very grateful.  The layer of scum hung on for a little longer until we got a decent rain.  More gratitude for a decent rain as opposed to a battering.  The place just stunk the high heaven though.  I need to seriously deal with some s**t.  For real, and metaphorically.  Well, anyways, now there's an inch of snow on the ground again.  And it's cold.  All weekend I mentally added up the list of outdoor work needing to be done, then having a lie-down to recover from the exhaustion of just thinking about gravel on the lawn, garbage that blew around all winter, dog poop, everything that didn't get done last fall before the winter hit.  Now I'm secretly relieved to have the snow cover it up for another few days.

It's not totally about the weather though.  I'm wrestling with depression again this year.  Last year I was feeling exceptionally well this time of year, but not now.

You know what the big difference is?  I KNOW THIS ISN'T PERMANENT.

So I'm feeling wretched.  It is what it is.  It's what's happening right now.  I'll deal with it and I'll get over it.

I can get cleaned up and leave the house and put on a smile, and it's a real smile.  I can laugh and enjoy people.  It's exhausting though, and afterwards I need recovery time.  The worst part is when people ask those innocent questions:  How's it going?  How are you?  What's up these days?  

I don't lie.  I'll honestly say, the last few months have been a challenge.

I've figured something out though…

I need to be writing.

Not here.

Why wasn't I writing all winter, when I needed excuses to not be outside freezing my butt off?  My brain felt frozen.  I'd open this thing up and stare at it and feel kind of blank.  I've written something that's full of knots and I couldn't figure out how to untie them.  The harsh winter is over now, it's spring, the season most normal people associate with new life, and which I associate with scum and dirt and manure and unpredictable skies.  Difficulty.

You know what order I keep seeing? Things get worse before they get better.

I just need to take a few weeks off here… and untie some knots, rake up some dead grass, shuffle some words around, move some manure...

Monday, April 07, 2014

Post Juno recovery time?

I've been home again for almost a week.  I still feel like all I want to do is sleep but that could be a result of winter kicking the snot out of me and leaving me pretty much used up and depleted.  Blech.  On that happy note, yay, I intend to get my pictures sorted out and tell you all about Winnipeg and our Juno-related hijinx.

Until then… I'm currently being held down by a Pug.  He's quite heavy.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

WARNING: this post contains awards shows, parties, horse manure, complaining about the weather, depression, bitchy computers, alcohol and ridiculous high heeled shoes.  Where else are you going to find all that, except here, eh?

Tonight, I am getting on a plane with my husband and kids, and we're flying out to sunny Winnipeg Manitoba! Some of you may be wondering why the heck Winnipeg.  IT'S JUNO WEEKEND!

From what I hear these days, it's sunny out there, but it's cold.  We were in Winnipeg nine years ago and it was like that.  It's a nice city.  Some day I'd like to go there when it's not the ass end of Canadian winter, because until then I will never see it looking like this:

We here in Ontario have kind of been getting the prairie winter.  Oh, yeah, technically it's spring now, but I call BS on that because I've still got snowbanks up to my knees out here on the ol homestead and it's still several degrees below freezing and I'm worn out.  Worn out and worn down.  

I keep thinking I shouldn't complain, except that my dad, who is 71 years old, says he can't remember a winter this consistently cold, with this much snow, that started so early and has held on this long.

Also I know people who grew up on the prairies who've said that, yes, the winters are way colder out west, but Ontario winter is much crueler.  It's windy here, and wet cold, and makes you want to cry.

Well, I don't know about the crying part.  That was just me.  I want to cry.

Spring has a history of bumming me out, which sucks, because everybody else is leaping and grinning and chirping while I'm grinding my teeth and moping.  Shouldn't spring make me feel optimistic?  It does not.  It makes me feel like all that excrement out in the yard, melting into a stinking pile.

Last year for the first time in I-don't-even-know-how-long, I felt okay.  I could handle it.

This year?  Bleccchhhhhh.



They haven't gotten a whole lot of advantages from growing up in the music business, and they deserve some perks, right?

I got a $20 dress, I have crazy towering silver wedge heeled shoes -- they're so high I must be close to 5'6" in them!!!!!

I am not even going to lie... I will be graciously accepting the free drinks.

Not too much.  Just enough.

I mean.  Beer.  Right?

Anyways, my phone gadget and computer have decided they are two girls in grade 7 and are not speaking to each other.  Therefore, no blog updates.  However, I have Instagram!

Alright folks.  I'm leaving in 20 minutes.  Right after Selina folds laundry and Bucky and Jethro load the car and and I throw some feed at the horses.  I'M TOTALLY OKAY HERE, PEOPLE.  

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Yesterday I had to end the life of a perfectly healthy young cat.

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.  Maybe we shouldn't have named her after a song that might have been about mind altering drugs. 

I had to.  What else was I going to do with her?

She was cute, petite, pretty, fluffy, and volatile.  She'd be purring and cuddling and affectionately vigorously smashing her head into my cheek, and then turn around and hiss and growl like the devil at somebody else.  She went after the dog a few times and I was concerned about his safety.  They used to play.  It devolved to the point that Dobby chased Lucy across the room, looking for fun, only to have her turn into a screeching dangerous monster.

Back when they were friends.  

My house was full of stress.  One by one, all of us humans got worn down by the constant pressure of keeping track of where she was and what mood she was in.

I tried.  Please believe, I tried.  I worked on behaviour modification, which is extremely difficult with a cat.  I tried medication.  She gobbled up her pills, and in fact, I was able to pick her up and pry open her little mouth and pop that pill right down her throat.  It seemed to help.  A little tiny bit.  She still had a hate on for the dog though.

She wasn't always like this.  When we got her, about five years ago, she was a scared little skittish kitten.  I hadn't ever had a female house cat, and it had been a looooong time since we had a kitten, so I waited for her to grow up and settle down.  She never did either.  I could handle sharing a home with a cat who isn't friendly to strangers.  I could handle a cat who would rather be looked at than cuddled.  I maybe even could have tolerated her mood swings.  But then she started getting violent.

And... this isn't my house.  I have to be respectful of the other people I live with.

So what were my options?  Take her out to the barn?  I'd take the risk of her attacking my beloved barn cats, Moe and Dice.  And, probably have her end up having a very difficult end. She'd always been an indoor cat, no outdoor survival skills, and we live next to a busy highway.

Take her to the pound, like where we got her?

They can't take her.  They're full to capacity.  Plus, we live out of county.  Plus, they can't take a cat with that many issues, and will therefore be hard to adopt.  She'd spend years in a cage, waiting for someone to choose a cat who may or may not turn vicious without warning.

Let her go?  To fend for herself?  Maybe become somebody else's problem?  End up in the pound as a stray?

Try to give her away to someone without telling them about her problems?  Have someone come back and tell me how she ripped open their hand and then what, I pretend she never did that before?

I had only one option left.  I took her to the vet clinic, tears rolling down my face, and had her put down quietly and with as much dignity as possible.  I'm sure it was the only quiet thing she ever did in her five years of life.

Call me crazy but I am sure she knew what was up.  She got really heavy when I picked her up and put her in the crate.  She was tense and heavy as we sat on the couch waiting for the vet.  I told her it wasn't her fault.  None of this was her fault.  I don't blame her; I really believe she couldn't help it.

We were told at the shelter she came from that she was part of a massive confiscation.  There were like, 20 dogs and 50 cats pulled out of a house.  Or 10 dogs and 30 cats.  Or 40 dogs and 100 cats.  Either way, I can't help but wonder if she missed out on some important socialization, with other animals and humans, or if she had some invisible problem on account of her mother being her sister-cousin. I don't know.  It's no use blaming the animal hoarder, or the shelter workers who didn't euthanize the whole lot of them right away.  She looked fine.  Sometimes she was really sweet and charming.  Other times she wasn't, and she got worse, and what's the point in analyzing it now?

This was harder than I expected.  It's not like euthanizing an animal that's old or sick or injured.

Dobby is agitated today.  It doesn't matter that the cat wasn't a good buddy to him anymore; he's a dog, everybody is a potential friend.  He knows she's gone and it bothers him.  He's had some solid cuddling today and he'll get more.  He and I will both need it.  I'll miss the cat chatter.  She was talkative.  I'll miss those occasions when she liked to be petted.  I'll miss the breakfast purr.  I won't miss the unpredictable moods and the sinking feeling of dread when the devil growling started.

Goodbye little cat.  

Monday, March 03, 2014

2014 OSCAR BLOG REPORT!!!!!!!!!

I watch, so you can go to bed...

Nothing horrible happened last night!  Nobody wore anything truly hideous, nor anything stupendously perfect, nobody tripped up the stairs (although J Law apparently tripped after getting out of the car, which I guess just had to happen, or the universe would crumble...) and pretty much all the awards went where you expected. And you know what, some people were lovely and wonderful and made me feel better about life in general.

As usual, I did not actually leave the ol' Homestead and fork over the cash to see any of these movies.  But at the very least I can tell you which ones I think look good.  That's gotta count, right?

LUPITA!  Are we all in love with Lupita now?  I hadn't heard of this girl a few months ago but she's been showing up on the awards show circuit looking flawless.  I have no idea if she's a good actor.  I don't think I can stomach the movie.  I can't watch people being abused.  But I'm so glad she won because SHE IS AMAZING.  She's charming and articulate and seems so authentic and intelligent.  And she is so beautiful.  Her skin is luminous.  She just comes off like something special.

Let's talk about how she looks!

This dress is some light doesn't quite look as spectacular as it did on TV.  It's a gorgeous blue that's both peaceful and invigorating.  If I had one complaint, it's a very picky one, and that's my opinion that for a woman this thin I wouldn't choose such a plunging V neck.  I'm averse to seeing chest bones.  But it's really not a big deal because everything else is perfect.  

Do yourself a favour and look up her speech somewhere out there.  It's wonderful.  "...no matter where you're from, your dreams are valid."

I have a bit of a problem with "If you can dream it you can do it" and "you can make all of your dreams come true" and anything else that advises you to follow your dreams even if they are wildly unrealistic.  Like, I'm 5'1" and if I desperately wanted to play professional basketball, it would take a lot more than a strong belief in my dreams to get me there.  Luckily I don't want to play basketball.  But I like being told that my dreams are valid.  They're mine.  They are what they are.  So, thanks, pretty young lady who speaks with clarity and eyes sparkling with grateful tears!

Ellen had to make a few comments as well about PRETTY.  Jared Leto is the prettiest.  

And McConaughey is "dirty pretty" and I cannot argue with any of that. 

Now we must discuss Jared Leto (I promise you more McYummyhey later.)

I have decided that this man delights me.  I haven't really watched much of his work and am indifferent at best to his music but he's been so composed and cool about this whole awards race thing.  And of course, I do love a scruffy pretty man with long hair.  It's kind of my thing.

And also, Euro Jesus.  

Spooky eh?  I have issues with depicting Jesus as a handsome white guy, but I still think it's funny. 

And also also, Buddy Jesus.

I'm sorry Jesus!!  I'm sorry Jared!!  I succumbed to the temptation!  

But seriously, I loved his acceptance speech.  As soon as he started talking about a small American town in 1971 where a teenage girl was about to have her second baby, I was weeping.  

You can see where he got his good looks.  She is gorgeous.  I love her silver hair!

Here's the whole family.

He was slick, the way he managed to give his mom so much gratitude and also sneak in his band and then some political stuff which I wasn't entirely sure who he was talking about but it sounded quite globally aware... And above all, he came off humble and gracious and confident.  

Let's have another look.  

Isn't this great?  Formal, but the red bow tie is a nice surprise.  

Speaking of guys who brought Mom...

Leonardo DiCaprio's mom looks like a scream and a half!  I mean, he's pretty much all Gatsby all the time.  It works on him.  She looks like a party all the time.  With healthy maternal discipline and encouragement and maybe sometimes cookies.  

Speaking of cookies... Ellen asked if anybody was hungry.  This resulted in a pizza delivery.  

Honestly I never know with her if something is a comedy bit or if she just forgot temporarily where she is.  That's her style.  But you know how the Golden Globes take place at tables with food and booze?  Or for sure booze at least; do we ever actually see anybody eat?  Being a klutz myself, I can't think about all these people dressed in expensive clothes that were probably loaned to them and have to be given back, eating sloppy food.   Let's face it, all food is sloppy when you're dressed up. Unless the Famous just don't ever get any food on them.  I don't know about you, but it ain't a party until I spill something.  (Maybe just not tipping the bottle in the first place would cut down the chances of knocking the damn bottle over, but I digress...)

I love the pizza gag because my son Bucky has recently become a pizza delivery guy.  He comes home with great stories about getting a 3 cent tip from a little old lady, which is especially funny considering we technically don't have pennies anymore up here in the great white north, and also the house that was full of weed smoke and the guy who who had to hunt around his motel room to find a tip and gave a half a roll of quarters.  I like to imagine this kid went home and told his mom about this very weird delivery.  

Here's Brad chowing down like a man.  

And here's Meryl, a woman who is not afraid of... well anything, especially not being seen worldwide eating a slice of pizza.  Meryl, you win at everything!

I thought overall Ellen was pretty funny.  

She is capable of mocking without deeply offending, usually.  Hers is a laid back and mostly gentle style of comedy.  

Although, I can't help but wonder if Liza Minnelli is ordering some form of punishment for the crack about the excellent Liza Minnelli impersonation, good job sir.

Seriously?  I thought Liza looked smashing!

That colour is so vibrant especially with her fair skin, her makeup is perfect and HER HAIR!  That blue streak!!!  So sassy and fun!!! 

Check her out, all attitude.  

Toodles, darlings.

I have one complaint.  Always, eh?  Am I ever happy?  I just really believe in undergarments.  I want the best for everybody, and truly honestly believe that everybody loves boobs and we should be good to boobs.  Give them the support they need.  And I say this despite having not much to talk about, personally.  But otherwise, I love this outfit, on her, and if anybody on the planet can successfully wear a bright blue satin pants outfit that seems vaguely pyjamas-esque, it is Liza Minnelli.  

Not so successful?  Whoopi.

Can you believe I don't like this?  I have those stockings in a drawer.  I sometimes wear them.  And I would rock the heck out of those ridiculous red shoes.  But this ain't working.  

There was a big ol "Wizard Of Oz" tribute and I will now confess that I haven't seen it and probably never will.  Even though it obviously was a cinematic game changer and still looks amazing, I just don't get it.  I mean, I know the story, it's fine, I just don't think I need to sit through it.  Is there something wrong with me?

And now that we're in the Something Wrong Department, which we arrived at after going through the Be Good To Your Boobs Department:

Why can't we get Anne Hathaway right?  Seriously, a good looking woman with that face, with her strong features?  Why must she always look like her chest is on its way to her waist?  Why??? I'd like this dress if it didn't let her down like this.  (See what I did there?)

And Julia!

Hers is one of the most expressive faces in the business.  Doesn't this face deserve a better chest?  That's some sag.  Well there's a lot wrong in this department but her face and hair are looking good, so whatever.  She's Julia Roberts.  She will bounce back from this.  

So we leave the Something Wrong Department and head over to the Meh Department.  

Here's another woman with a stunning face who's wearing something kind of okay but not really but it's okay on her I guess.  

It looked at first like it was barely hanging on and I don't like that non-colour at all.  

But the smile helps a lot.  

While we're still in the Meh Department, we'll stop in on Cate Blanchett, who frustrates me.  

Again, hair and face perfect - what is it with these women getting things right from the neck up only?  I guess I should just be happy they got that far.  This dress looks from a distance like she sprouted a skirt out of her skin and then it all grew sparkly barnacles.  It looks itchy.  Cate, stop wearing things that make me itchy, please.  What if this was an actual colour?  That would change everything for me.  

What did you think of her speech?  She's obviously a graceful lady.  But I sure hope she and Julia are good enough friends that Julia can handle the suck it bit.  

I am always aware that these people are actors.  Sometimes I don't think I can trust a word they say.  Sometimes I want to believe them; other times I hope they're full of it.  

You know who I really hope is as awesome as she appears?  Jennifer Lawrence.  

She ain't a joke, folks.  

Jennifer Lawrence hit the stage to present and stopped, proving herself to be a public relations nightmare and a welcome remedy to the perfection of Hollywood, looked over at someone in the audience and demanded to know if they were laughing at her.  And just when I was afraid this was going sideways into discomfort territory, she squinted and grinned and said, "I'm watching you."

And she looks fantastic in this.  I don't even hate the hip flaps.  Not crazy about the stern hairdo but as we've already established, I'm just never happy.  

They're happy though so that's good.

Anyways, one of the main functions for me, of the Oscars, is to make up my list of movies I want to see.  I want to see American Hustle because I suspect it's funny and I like the clothes.  (I might need ideas for my once a year party!) I want to see Dallas Buyers Club because... what the heck is going on with that?  I gotta know.  And, most of all, I want to see Nebraska.  Crusty old feller on a road trip to get his millions of dollars? Bruce Dern with his straggly halo, shot in black and white?  Yep.   

Man, June Squibb seems like a little bundle of awesome!  

And then there's Bette Midler.  She sang a song after the Memoriam.  Guess what song.  Just guess.  Yeah, that one.  

Well, she's one of a kind and irreplaceable.  But I could have done without. She sang it well, of course, but she was backed up by a cheesy recording that sounded like cheap karaoke. Another confession: I kind of hate that backhanded compliment of a song.  Must have been cold there in my shadow?  But it's okay because you're important.  In relation to my own importance.  Blech.  I mean, she was great, other than the part where she tried to flyyyyyyyyy with one arm.

Seriously, the Memoriam was nicely done.  Sad, of course.  But thoughtful.  

And since we're discussing singing, here's the beautiful Idina Menzel, or as John Travolta calls her, ADELE DEMEZZUMELDUMA.

Well, it seemed like every other presenter messed up, so I don't know if the teleprompter was being cranky or what.  It can't be that everybody's hair was strangling their brains.  

Guys?  Let's be honest.  This was slightly painful.  

But hey - credit for doing it live!!!!

It's okay though because we have Pink.


Pharrell also performed, this time in the same outfit as at the Grammys but in black, because y'know, the Oscars are more formal.  However, at some point in the day he forgot his pants.  

Shhhhhh.  Don't embarrass him.

U2 performed a stripped down version of their song, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.  This is why they're one of the best bands in the world.  

They didn't win.  

The song from "Frozen" won, after Adele Menzemelem worked her way through it.  It's a good song, even if I preferred the U2 song, and the acceptance speech from Anderson-Lopez and Lopez was adorable.

You charming little songwriters!

Let's have some more charming moments to wrap this thing up.

Joseph Gordon Levitt and Emma Watson presented together, which was almost too much charm for one show, but just enough.

Barkhad Abdi

"Look at me.  Look at me.  I am the captain now."

I read somewhere that he improvised that line.  I have to find ways to work that into my everyday conversations.  

McConaughey's entire speech.  Actually just him in general. 

I've always found him appealing and the way he loves his wife and kids makes him even sweeter.  

They look so lovely together.  Nice couple - I hope they stay together forever.  I'm sentimental that way.

But this is my favourite couple of the day.

I don't know what opportunity brought June Squibb and Jared Leto together, but since I've decided I like the both, this delights me.  

Here's a look at two classy elegant ladies who didn't win awards but who cares, because they looked like Frickin' Movie Stars!

Amy Adams

Sandra Bullock

And here's Jennifer Garner in a dress that my 7 year old self vowed to wear, someday...

I just love fringes.  

You know what I really love the most about the Oscars?

Awards are given out to everybody who has importance to the making of movies, and that means so many more people than just the faces you end up watching.  The production designers, costumers, cinematographers, sound mixers, editors, everybody needed to make this beast of an industry function.  They get to stand up there on the same stage and thank their families and loved ones for putting up with the long work days and obsessive careers.  I think most viewers would prefer to cut this all out, but I don't find it boring at all to see the "nobodies" get their awards.  They're not nobodies to me.  I know what it's like to be thanked by one of those guys for putting up with his insane career choice... this is where it all matters.  

And finally.

I don't know how this happened, and I don't really care, but I think it's the perfect way to wrap this thing up...

U2 being photobombed by Benedict Cumberbatch.

That's all, goodnight folks!!!