That was what I labeled the menu Monday night at our little Oscar party. We had eight friends over to watch the show, a day late, because we are the ones with a Slingbox. I don’t mind people wanting to be friends with us because of our technology. Or because of the fact that I only know how to cook unhealthy food. And in fairness, the menu was appropriate for all classes. Name me a person that doesn’t like mac & cheese, and I will show you a liar or an insecure lactose-intolerant person. Anyway, what does “working class” actually mean? Last time I checked, everyone I knew with money was working their asses off.
So the Oscars… did anyone else cry when Kate Winslet’s dad whistled from across the audience? Or is it my hormones? And btw, I agree with one of you that said it is a sham Gran Torino got no nominations. Bollocks.
I cannot believe we had ten people in our flat. That’s a record I think. It was a good time, but apparently not good enough for me to snap a single pic of the group. Instead I only captured the food. Something is wrong with me. But look, the thing I am most proud of is my first-ever ice cream cake. And also graduating college.