Monday, March 06, 2006

I'd like to thank the Academy...


I think it’s pretty safe to say I won’t ever win an Academy Award. So I’m going to go ahead and treat you to my Oscar speech, just so I know all my hard work hasn’t been in vain.

Now you’re going to have to use your imagination here a little. First you have to imagine I’m an actor. Then you have to imagine I made a movie. Then you have to imagine that either I was really, really good in the movie or that I played an historical figure that everyone likes who died young, or that I myself am dying of cancer. Oh, you also have to forget the whole thing about me looking like an Oompah Loompah, because if I did I wouldn’t have a starring role in a movie. You also have to imagine I probably have a laundry list of other attributes that are required to be an actor, like a room at Betty Ford, a Hollywood-connected relative who made me “pay my dues” by making me audition for parts and several failed romances.

Okay. Now on the stage is Ben Stein. I know, I know, usually the actor who won last year presents, but I want someone up there I know won’t upstage me. So it’s either Ben Stein or a dead guy.

It’s my fantasy, okay?

So Ben is listing the nominees and each person on the list gets their own camera close-up appearing in little boxes for the viewers at home. This is done because we all secretly hope that we’ll see one of them get really pissed off when someone else’s name is called. And we’re sadists.

But they don’t call someone else’s name, do they? No. They announce, “And the Oscar goes to…” Ben makes a muddle of opening the envelope, “Sisiggy!”(I don’t honestly know how Ben Stein would “say” an exclamation point, though.)

The room explodes with applause…

No! Everyone spontaneously jumps to their feet and applauds. Some are so overwhelmed with emotion they are crying with joy.

I sit, stunned, as Dirtman (who is sitting beside me in a tuxedo and wearing socks) puts down the book he’s been reading during the entire program and gives me a big kiss. He helps me to my feet, because I’m so shocked that li’l ol’ me won, that I can’t move. He has to escort me to the stage where he hands me off to Ben Stein, who hands me my Oscar and kisses…

Maybe we better make that George Clooney announcing the winner…

…hands me off to George Clooney who, after taking the statuette from the shapely, tall, blonde Statuette girl, who he doesn’t even give a second glance or the time of day, hands me my Oscar and kisses me chastely on the cheek, though he is seething with desire. I stand before the microphone and begin my speech:

I can’t believe I’m up here!

First of all, I want to thank God for all he’s done for me. I don’t know what you’ve all done to tick Him off, but obviously, he prefers me over you and The Sudan and the Middle East and all the people in homeless shelters.

And now I’d like to read a list of people’s names none of you know and who I haven’t seen since making this movie nor will I probably see again and if I do I won’t remember them anyway, which is why I wrote them down.

(insert list here)

Thanks to all of them for making me look like I could actually do an entire scene in one go. Right! Like I could memorize that much dialogue.

And, Dirtman. (I smile warmly in Dirtman’s direction. He puts the book down again, hearing his name) You had nothing whatsoever to do with the production of this film. But I’ll thank you anyway because Tom Hanks started it and now unless I do there will be rumors swirling about the condition of our marriage. Even though I can thank you in person and, if I really meant it, would have thanked you already.

(music begins playing)

And, finally, thank you to the woman whose life I portrayed on screen. Your struggle, your courage, your joi de vivre won me an Oscar. So you can rest in peace, knowing that your life was not lived in vain.

(I lift my arm and wave to the audience.) Thank you, Academy!

(As the music swells, George takes my arm to escort me off stage, along with the shapely, young, tall, blonde Statuette Girl, who trips over her gown and begins to fall, though I make a gallant attempt to help her…really, I do…but she hits the floor and, to add to her humiliation, farts and burps. Everyone laughs at her and she knows her career is over, so there.)

4 comments:

jagosaurus said...

Heh. Farts and burps. Nice touch.

What's the Maude thing in the sidebar?

Mrs Lifecruiser said...

I'm soooo impressed, I wanted to be there for your big moment and sit there with tears in my eyes saying to Mr Lifecruiser: "That's Sisiggy, our dear friend (even if we hardly spoked to each other, of course we are VERY close friends now when you're a STAR!) that's up there and I'm so proud of her. She is worthy all of it." And then try to have your autograph afterwards....

But, somehow I'm glad that it's all a dream, because if you were a a star:

1. I don't think that you'd have this blog and I would missed it.

2. I don't think you would be such a nice person as you are....

The only thing I really enjoy is the fact of the fart and the burp... ha! That's really something!

This is a GREAT post Sisiggy, it should have been awarded :-)

Mrs Lifecruiser said...

Oh, I forgot to ask:
What plastic surgeon do you use? I'm in desperate need of one! Please help out...

zib said...

I laughed! I cried! I sputtered wine!
Alloverthemonitor.

Congrats!