Jessica and I were terribly, woefully, wickedly unprepared for this awards season to begin.
And then Lupita walked out. And I’ll be honest, I’m bummed out by the tan spots on her skirt because they look like the soil from which the rest of the flowers triumphantly burst. But REGARDLESS, I still find it cheerful and great, because she looks like the island vacation we wish we’d gone on before climbing aboard this high-speed train to late February. I can hear the ocean and taste the cocktail and see the blurred vision that comes from one too many margaritas at the swim-up bar’s happy hour and feel the gasp of panic at the sight of the room service bill… sigh. Maybe next year.