And The Oscar For The Best Nyquil Scene Over the Airwaves Goes To: The Oscars @klassic_p We’re born alone, we die alone, and we live through Oscar night alone — because, let’s face it, none of us can stay glued to the screen for all 18 hours, or however long it was, without missing something. There were sandwiches to make, beer, cake, the bathroom, beer, the bathroom; you had to let the cat out, answer the phone, send your friend a text about Melissa Leo’s unbearable acceptance speech and — oops! What was that? Javier Bardem, or the ice-cream man? Did best director Tom Hooper just say something about a “triangle of man love”? Did Christian Bale forget his wife’s name? Holy God in heaven, I hope Kathryn Bigelow didn’t pay for that dress.