For Your Consideration

Well, the Oscar nominations came out yesterday. Usually, I've got a lot to complain about. This year, I've got relatively few protests and lots of praise.

After all of the brouhaha about whether or not to send out screener copies and how it would affect the independent films, I am pleased to announce that the little guys are well represented. (And in the case of Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, the other little guys got recognized as well. Go hobbits! Yay hobbits! More on that later...) Holly Hunter got a much-deserved best supporting nod for Thirteen, Djimon Hounsou and Shoreh Aghdashloo were recognized for their outings in In America and House of Sand and Fog, and Keisha Castle-Hughes pulled off a Best Actress nod for Whale Rider. I'm absolutely giddy about that last one; I didn't think she had a chance in the world. (And I now have an excuse to see Whale Rider again!)

Of course, I'm putting my money on Charlize Theron to win for Monster. It seems the rule of thumb is that women win when they "ugly up" for a role, and she's already got the Golden Globe for the role. (Men tend to get nominated for "mentally challenged" roles, unless that role is in Radio. Cuba? Fire your agent.)

(I have officially withdrawn any love that I had for Diane Keaton. I hate it when actors read prepared acceptance speeches, and reading a prepared speech badly is unforgivable. And the white gloves that she wore at the Globes were ridiculous.)

Cold Mountain, for the most part, got snubbed, and I can't really say I'm upset about it. Yes, I know that the book was supposedly a masterpiece, and I have heard from both Roger Mexico and the Paisleys that the movie is quite good. However, after seeing eight billion cloying previews for the movie, I got the feeling that Miramax was trying to shove the film down my throat. The ads might as well have featured subtitles: "Please vote for this movie! Look how pretty it is! Look how poignant and romantic and heartbreaking! It's got Nicole Kidman in it! She won the Oscar last year! It's got Renee Zellweger in it! She was nominated last year! It's got Jude Law! He's prettier than both of the women combined! You know you want to see this movie! Much love, Harvey Weinstein." Well Harvey, I agree with you on the Jude Law thing, but I still have no desire to see your movie. (And after seeing Nicole's Golden Globes dress, I'm a little terrified of what she's going to wear to the Oscars. Nicole? Fire your stylist. You looked like ass.)

Obviously, this is the Year of the Hobbit. I fully expect most of the awards to go to The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. Again, no complaints there, although I'm a little disappointed that there was no Cinematography nomination, and would've liked to have seen Sean Astin up for Best Supporting Actor. Why is there not a Best Ensemble Cast award?

The big race this year, in my opinion, is the Best Actor category. Sean Penn should probably get it for Mystic River, and I think that the Academy really wants to give him an Oscar for something, but he's so anti-Hollywood I don't see him showing up for the ceremony. I'm betting on Bill Murray for Lost in Translation, mainly because the phrase "Academy Award winner Bill Murray" cracks me up.

(And a side note on Johnny Depp: while I am thrilled to see him nominated for Pirates of the Carribean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, I'm not so sure I want to see him actually win for it. It was a fun role, but I would rather see him win for something more important than a movie based on a ride at Disneyland. A win for Captain Jack Sparrow could be interpreted as "Yes, Johnny. We like you. We appreciate you. Now stop being so weird." It's the same way that I feel about Al Pacino winning for Scent of a Woman. This is the movie we chose to honor him for?)

I'm also quite pleased to see the nomination of "A Kiss at the End of the Rainbow" from A Mighty Wind. It doesn't stand a chance against the Annie Lennox song from Return of the King, but it made me smile the same twisted little smile I did when "Blame Canada" got nominated from South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut.

In the "what the hell were you thinking" category, there's Brother Bear's nomination in the Best Animated Film category. Look, I saw Brother Bear on a Saturday morning preview and I wish I'd stayed in and watched Yu-gi-oh or whatever crap was on the Kids WB lineup. I knew it was going to be bad, which is why I didn't get extra tickets for all of my animation-loving friends like I did for Finding Nemo. (Finding Nemo, obviously, is the front runner in this category. Go Pixar!)

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World is this year's Gangs of New York. It got a ton of nominations, it probably won't win for anything, and I have very little desire to see it. (Roger Mexico and I got into an argument about this Sunday night. He thought it was fabulous; I'm just not interested enough to plunk down $8.50 to see chunky Russell Crowe. I have, however, stopped referring to it as "Gladiator on a boat.")

So, I now have a little more than 30 days to (ideally) see 10 or so films so I can make an educated decision on February 29th. (Plus 2 or 3 that I want to see again.) Why don't I qualify for screener copies?

(And of course, the annual Oscars celebration and snarkfest at Chez Myo is still on. Formal attire encouraged. Pirate eye patches optional.)

Bad Business

So, here it is, a new year. Where did the last few weeks go?

Oh yeah, that's right. I've spent the last few weeks dealing with a certain "discount" car insurance company, trying to get them to do something about my car. You know which company I'm talking about - it's the one with the relentless advertising campaign and the most annoying jingle in the world. And yes, the crappiness of their commercials is indicative of their customer service, or at least their service towards people that they owe money to.

For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, I got sideswiped last month by Caddy-drivin', dead-animal-coat-wearin', society-name-droppin' woman. The police were called, an accident report was taken, I called my insurance agent to file a claim. I was assured that Caddy Lady's insurance company would call me within 48 hours.

Well, 48 hours later fell upon a Saturday, so I really wasn't expecting a call over the weekend. (Even though said insurance company touts its 24-hour service... I suppose that's a feature only available to policyholders.) I was on vacation the following week, so I hoped that I could get most, if not all, of the red tape taken care of while I was puttering around the house.

My phone rang at 8:30 am on Monday morning. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't it proper business protocol to wait until at least 9:00 am to call someone at home? I muttered a few curses, rolled over, and went back to sleep. That's what I have an answering machine for, right?

I picked up the message later in the morning, and returned the call around 11:45 am. As expected, I got the voicemail of the claims adjuster, and learned quite a few things about her. First, her office hours are 10:00 - 4:00. (So why did she call me at 8:30 in the morning? Was she calling me from home while she watched Good Morning America and ate her Special K?) Second, she apparently is the only claims adjuster east of the Mississippi River, since she emphasized several times in her voicemail message how incredibly busy she is with the 8 billion claims piling up on her desk. I rolled my eyes until they nearly popped out of my head, and left a message emphasizing the fact that I was currently driving a car that was not street legal through no fault of my own, and I would really appreciate a speedy response on their part.

The World's Busiest Claims Adjuster called back the next afternoon to arrange a time for the appraiser to come out. The appraiser showed up the next morning, inspected the dents and scratches in my car, made a few notes, took a few pictures, and left. I did not receive a copy of anything. I didn't even get a phone number or a last name. It was the automotive equal of a one-night stand.

Since I wasn't sure if this was proper protocol, I went back upstairs and called the World's Busiest Claims Adjuster and got her voicemail again. I explained that I had no idea what my next step in this fiasco was, and I would appreciate a call letting me know if I should be doing something, like arranging to get my car fixed so I wouldn't have to try to talk my way out of a ticket for a broken side mirror.

I waited for her to call me back.

And waited.

And waited.

I waited some more.

After a few days, my father suggested that we take the car out to my mechanic so we could get a ballpark figure of how much repair work would be involved. We were sent to the Ford dealership a few doors down, since there was bodywork that my garage didn't feel comfortable in estimating.

The Ford representative came back in after examining my car for a few minutes. "It's totaled." TOTALLED??? But it's just a dented panel and a broken mirror! The Ford guy proceeded to show figures for parts and labor, reaching $5000 after adding up less than half of the parts involved. (Since my car is 10 years old, it's worth less than $2000.)

This was the point where my head exploded. As I am still paying off my computer and my hospital bills, a payment on a new car was completely out of the question. My father, noticing that I was about to burst into tears (my usual response to any crisis in my life), started saying something about salvage titles. Being a person who can barely remember what year I need to get my E-check, I understood nothing that he said.

Eventually, I did calm down, and started to comprehend at least a little of the whole salvage title thing. Apparently, it's a title that means my car is absolutely worthless, but still drivable. I would still get my settlement money, would get to keep my car, and could use the money to repair only what was necessary to make it street legal again. (The dented panel would remain, but after driving a car that was held together with bungee cords for almost ten years, it didn't seem like that big a deal.) I had been forewarned about the bad news. All I had to do was wait for The World's Busiest Claims Adjuster to call me back and start the ball rolling on the title conversion.

Christmas came and went. No call.

New Year's Eve came and went. I drank too much champagne and sulked because Roger Mexico's visit fell through. No call.

At this point, I was more than a little ticked off. I had done absolutely nothing wrong. I had been hit while sitting still in traffic. I had remained as calm and cordial as possible while the police officer took down my information. I had followed all appropriate measures to file claims and attempt to get restitution on my car. I had been more than patient. Hell, I even knew what the World's Busiest Claims Adjuster was going to say when she called. I'd been patient. I'd followed her instructions on her voicemail not to leave multiple messages. (Multiple messages make the World's Busiest Claims Adjuster angry, and your claim will find itself at the bottom of her To Do stack.)

I called again, giving them the benefit of the doubt that nothing much got done during the holidays. (Although I'm sure that Caddy Lady got her claim processed and car fixed within a few days so she could attend all of her holiday parties with the movers and shakers of Cincinnati society.) The World's Busiest Claims Adjuster finally found a spare moment to return my call on the 9th, and began by telling me that my car was a complete loss. No kidding, I thought to myself. Did it take you three weeks to do the math on that one?

I explained to her that I would like to obtain a salvage license, and asked if this would affect the amount of the settlement that she had quoted to me. She assured me that it would not, and said she would send out the appropriate forms to be filled out and notarized. She then asked me if I was still driving the car. Um, yeah, you bonehead. Seeing as how I don't have the option to call in sick for a month and they've not perfected matter transporters, I'm still driving the car. And if I get a ticket for driving without a mirror or left turn signal, I'm sending it to you.

I got the paperwork the other day. Apparently the salvage title will cost me 10% of the settlement. Guess that part slipped her mind. I also apparently have to get the car inspected and pay even more money to get a "regular" title. Oops.

I also learned another thing about The World's Busiest Claims Adjuster. Despite the fact that one would assume that, in processing 8 billion claims, she would've learned how to spell. I apparently drive an Espire, whatever the hell that means. Was she trying to spell Escort? (Right make, wrong model.) Esprit? (As in bad 80s clothes?) Expire? (As in dead car?) I also found a typo in the power of attorney form - in the section that the notary signs, they've inadvertently replaced the word "such" with "suck," which pretty much sums up what I feel about their service.

I really hate Discount Insurance Company, now even more than I did. I hate their commercials. I hate their stupid jingle.

Insert your own joke about the typo in the power of attorney form and the acronym for Discount Insurance Company here.

(And on a completely unrelated but equally stupid note, I just got a letter from the IRS the other day. Way back when everyone was receiving those tax refunds, mine got lost in the shuffle. They finally caught up with me last year, and sent me the money they owed me plus interest. They're now taxing me on the interest that accrued because of their mistake. I guess that extra tax dollar is going to save the economy, right?)