Wait For It… a blog by Andy Ross

Oscars Speech

Posted on February 28, 2011


A transcript of my acceptance speech from last night’s Oscars:

Oh, wow. Wow, y'know? I just... I mean... I just had no idea I'd be up here accepting this award. I probably should've popped this giant zit on my nose.

First off, I wan to thank my fellow nominees. Sir Ian, Dicky, John, Johnald---I'm humbled to be counted as your peer. (Or now, according to my new pay scale, your better.) Your performances this year really pushed me to campaign so much harder for this award. You guys are badasses, and I [bleep]-ing mean that.

Whoops. I just got bleeped. Hopefully that came across as charming and not crassly self-indulgent.

I want to thank my parents. Where are you, Mom? There she is, sitting in front of Jenny McCarthy. Mom, you gave me so much love and support and the genetic coding that went into this symmetrical face and thick, wavy hair. Not these teeth, though; these are caps.

Also, Mommy, you encouraged me to follow my dreams when that creepy casting director with stubby fingers discovered me on the McDonald's playground.

I'd also like to thank all the people behind the scenes who stuck with me through all my stints in rehab and my petty assault charges. I'm glad I was handsome enough that people still rooted for me. I've always said, Hollywood is a family.

And, to my team---my manager, Sol. My stylist, Reynardo. My dietitian, Rolf. My trainer, Gerhard. My lawyers, Putney Green Freeburg & Putney. My full-time make-up artist/mistress, Playmate of the Year Stasha Ivjorinkchvic. Without you, I would never have been able to pretend a giant CGI turtle taught me to be a better father.

And finally, thank you to my director, McG. You steered the ship. Every morning, you kept the technical nerds and sound girls from quitting over my coked-up sexual advances.

And, to my producer Harvey Weinstein---you managed to pay off that one NYPost reporter about that “thingy.” Plus, you had the foresight to cover up the film's breastfeeding mother with an exploding nun, dropping the rating from NC-17 to PG.

Oops, the music’s starting. Well, shut it off. I'm important. I said, shut it off…

Finally finally, I wanna say that this award isn't just about PR and spin. It's about the work. Everyone in this room loves this art of filmmaking. We understand how important it is to still look [bleep]-able while crying. We understand how to remember words for up to three minutes. Or, if we can’t remember whatchamacallits… words… then we can make up even more betterer words.

And, because of our deep love of film, we’ve done horrible, degrading things at the whim of hairy, obese men. We’ve listened to Gwyneth Paltrow talk. We’ve given up solid food and the ability to feel emotion. But, here tonight, with this tiny false idol in my hands, I know it was all worth it.

Thank you to the audience. Thank you, Academy. And, thank you to our thetan overloads.

[End transcript.]


Yoga Class

Posted on April 9, 2010


Hey! Knock knock.” Is this Intermediate Yoga? Am I in the right place? Oh, shhhh, yeah sorry. Shhh. Right. Sorry I’m late. I’ll be quiet.

Let me just find a mat. Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me. Comin’ through. Hey, I know you. You’re Bill’s wife, Kim, right? Good to see you. Excuse me. Pardon me. Just making my way … to a … mat. Got it! Got a mat. All set.

Quick question before we start. Well, I mean before I start, since everybody started without me. Is this the kind of yoga with all the magic mumbo jumbo? Like, do I have to buy into all that chi energy and tiger ancestors and your soul breathes through your butthole stuff?

Because, this is my first yoga class. I know it’s Level 2, but I figure I pick up on stuff fast. And, how hard can it be looking at some of the pudge-os in here? Not you, Darlin’, you look great. You look like a beer commercial. Whatever you’re doing, keep at it.

Right, shhhhh. Quiet. I get it, you’re all concentrating on your buttholes. Y’know, I wouldn’t have to yell if you left some mats open in the front for people who were understandably late, because their cats threw up in the Toyota Camry. Fine, fine, I’ll shut up.

That wasn’t me. That fart was not me. I just want everyone to know, since I feel like I’m the designated bad guy already. Believe me, if that fart was mine, you’d know it. I had a breakfast burrito.

No, lady, you be quiet. You think all that shooshing is quiet? It’s not. It’s loud, and it’s distracting my chi flow. Pay attention to your own noise level.

Oh shit! My back! Ohhh, my back! Dammit, lady, you made me throw out my back! See what your shooshing does? Ow ow owww. Somebody call an ambulance. Kim, go call an ambulance. Model-looking girl, will you ride in the ambulance with me? I’ll need someone to comfort me and cradle my head.

No? You won’t? Alright then, never mind about the ambulance. Kim, good hustle with that cell phone, but I’m okay. I’m gonna go outside and grab a smoke. That usually helps. I’ll be back in two shakes. Don’t do the Dogward Down without me.