I’ll be home rooting for Slumdog Millionaire. The Clairidge sold out yesterday when I saw it for the early bird matinee. I just hope M.I.A. performs Paper Planes, so I can swagga like her.
I will swagga at home. Alone. My kids will be sleeping. This actually sounds fun to me–watching the Oscars at home in the quiet of my Bloomfield Avenue house. I guess that means I’m mature (i.e. boring) and a parent (i.e. my social life is over).
But I’d still like to know: Are there any local parties? Or do you prefer to stay home–and awake way past your bedtime–too?