Nowhere to run, Nowhere to hide....

If you're not into the pomp and circumstance of the Academy Awards, but want to relax in front of the television on the show's big night, there is literally no escape. Sunday night is usually slim pickings in TV land, but I cash in at 10 p.m. with Grey's Anatomy. Not tonight. Preempted by the pomp and the circumstance.

You would think the other networks would try. The WB, for its part, is serving up an edited, bleeped-out version of "8 Mile," which could be a contender for those who a) haven't already seen it, and b) don't mind watching a bleeped-out version of a film that has enough curse words that the bleeps could drive them bleeping crazy!

I took a little break from packing to watch three films at Sarah's place that I'd been meaning to see: "Elizabethtown," "In Her Shoes," and "Walk the Line." All of them were entertaining. "In Her Shoes" was better than I thought it'd be (I read the book, which was fine, given the genre), but "Walk the Line" is definitely worth seeing. It begs the question, though. Were there no music powerhouses that didn't have a major drug addiction at some point in their lives?