I'm Oscar!

25 Days of Oscar: Day 11

2007-02-15T18:26:00.000-08:00

To avoid all the unpleasant hoopla from ravenous fans that inevitably attends any public appearance, I'll be going to the Oscars this year in this nifty disguise. If you spot me, please keep your wits about you and approach me quietly--as my homey Kevin Federline says, the pazaratti are a bitch.

Also: I've been enjoying Left in the Dark: Portraits of San Francisco Movie Theatres, by R. A. McBride, on display now at the inimitable Balboa.

25 Days of Oscar: Day 14, (i think)

2007-02-12T06:34:00.001-08:00

Sorry I've been neglecting my duties here. I haven't posted in the past week because my mom got bitten by a spider, then photographed for Playboy, in that order (although the two events were unrelated), and what with all the graduate theses she has to read she hasn't had time to transcribe for me. I wish she'd just quit with the whole teaching and writing thing and devote every moment to me, because really, I mean, I'm OSCAR.

On CARS:
Personally I think that CARS begins with too much sturm and drang, but it gets highly watchable when it settles down into the whole small-town thing, little cars with big dreams. Also a good soundtrack, what with Rascal Flats singing LIFE IS A HIGHWAY and James Taylor doing OUR TOWN, with Chuck Berry's Route 66 thrown in for good measure.

On CURIOUS GEORGE:
The scholastic DVD, which features simple a simple voice-over narration to accompany stills of the pictures from the book, is much better than the Curious George movie, which lacks the charm of the original drawings. I once went to a mall in Corte Madera to audition for a voice part in the movie, but ended up not auditioning because it was crowded and I got restless, but I did get to take home a swanky yellow hat. Lest someone (whom we shall not mention by name)see her dreams of stage-mothering wither and die, I'll be modeling later this month for Laurenn McCubbin and Michelle Tea's new graphic novel, CARRIER...and in a sweet twist of fate, I'll be dressed as a monkey.

25 Days of Oscar: Day 14, (i think)

2007-02-12T06:34:00.000-08:00

25 Days of Oscar: Day 20

2007-02-06T11:46:00.000-08:00

Oscar's take on the folks running the half-marathon that ended at Golden Gate Park this weekend:
So many people running great highway!

Oscar's take on the guy driving the John Deere to gather the carts at Costco:
Tractor driving so many cars.

Oscar's take on Clement Street on a Saturday night:
Drivers so messed up everywhere.

25 Days of Oscar: Day 22

2007-02-04T07:07:00.000-08:00

Oscar isn't quite 33 inches tall yet, which poses a problem at the theater. Here's Oscar's tip for not falling through through the hole at the back of those tricky movie theater seats:

Position your bottom at the very edge of the seat. Eventually, you'll become so engrossed in the movie that you'll forget the precariousness of your seating arrangement, and you'll feel yourself falling backwards. This is a good time to lean forward--hold on to your cheerios with your knees!--and grab the armrests for support. If all else fails, call for mama as the seat begins to fold. She's probably asleep, because she's sure not getting any sleep at night, but if you make enough noise she'll eventually hear you and come to your aid.

Oscar's story of the day:
Once upon time, far away, this tractor drive all cars.

25 Days of Oscar: Day 24

2007-02-02T07:48:00.001-08:00

Movie popcorn according to Oscar:

Take your leftover popcorn home and put it in the salad spinner! The crazy thing is, the popcorn starts at the bottom of the bowl, but after you activate the spinning action, it's on the sides. Good for half an hour of entertainment.

Plus: Oscar's sentence of the day:
Sometimes dada help Oscar climb wall.
Strong contender for sentence of the day:
Every motorcycle goes downhill!

25 Days of Oscar Begins Today!

2007-02-01T10:34:00.000-08:00

In honor of the Oscars, Oscar will be posting daily for the month of February. Since he's only two and can't type yet, I'll be transcribing.

Here's Oscar's take on Charlotte's Web, his first "big boy" movie, which he saw last month (twice!) at the Balboa in San Francisco.

Lil' piggie talking spider.
Moon!
Piggie crying.
Scary guy! Scary guy! (this is a reference to the scarecrow, which apparently is scary)
Spider get down! Spider get down!
Lil' piggie home.
Spider?

That last line's a pretty adept take on death, don't you think?

23 months and counting

2006-11-09T09:24:00.000-08:00

First sentence, sometime back in October:
I like baseball.
(Responding to Kev's question, "Which do you like better, baseball or football?"

Second sentence:
I see moon (October 25)

Since then:
Lady drive big mail truck.

Da-da pet bear. (in response to my explaining one day at the zoo that Oscar can't pet the bear, because it's dangerous).

hecho en mexico

2006-10-13T14:34:00.001-07:00

Here are Oscar & Kevin on a family cruise to Mexico a few months ago, where Oscar purchased his first guitar, still very much a favorite.

oscar buttoned down

2006-10-13T14:34:00.000-07:00

Osacr prepares for a night among his people. Said no to the onesie--smart boy.

les mots

2006-10-08T19:00:00.001-07:00

Circa 22 months, my current favorite words & phrases:
Bruce guitar (meaning Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band)
big tractor
mail truck
cookie
big cookie
crying
running
up/down
hot/cold
airplane!
airplane sound!
airplane out trees!
sing (a command to the dishwasher)
drum
people
wave
elephant poo poo

next stop: project runway

2006-10-08T19:00:00.000-07:00

Going out on a fashion limb at the Russian River

new words

2006-05-04T08:28:00.000-07:00

I'll be 17 months old tomorrow. Here are my current favorite spoken words:
Circle
Bubble
Ball
No
Dog
Cat
Water (Wa)
Blueberry (Boobay)
Bootenmeyer (no one knows what this means except me, and I'm not telling)

My favorite signing words:
Bed
Ball
Cheese
More
Bottle
Water
Dog
Cat
Flower
Wind
Bath

two Samanthas

2006-04-07T16:43:00.000-07:00

I ask you: is it coicidence or fate that this rising star is named Samantha, and so is the most wonderful witch ever to grace the small screen--Samantha Stevens of Bewitched fame. Sadly, Elizabeth Montgomery is gone, gone, gone...but perhaps one day I'll have a chance to meet the younger Samantha.

Baby Shower Brawl

2006-04-05T16:33:00.000-07:00

Word up: Don't invite the guys to the baby shower. Somebody might end up shooting people and beating the pregnant lady with a stick. Dude, this really happened! Makes the folks on Jerry Springer look classy.

I've got this idea for a novel...

2006-03-23T15:24:00.000-08:00

Oscar begins his Bildungsroman. Kevin demands to be included on the acknowledgements page.

public humiliation

2006-03-22T03:01:00.000-08:00

My mom wrote a piece about me for last week's San Francisco Chronicle magazine. It's my first case of serious public exposure, and I'm not sure I like it. A taste:

But of all the tiny things that comprise Oscar's world, none is so beloved as the tag. Yes, the tag, that small fabric slip of consumer legalese that marks a product's place in the world, declaring where the thing is from and how it should be treated and by whom it was inspected and to whom its rights revert.
Cet article contient materiaux neufs seulement.
Reg. no. 97J5293
Made in China
Wipe clean with a damp cloth and mild soap
Beware poly pellets
All rights reserved
Do not immerse
For Oscar, the tag is not merely an informational document, not so much expendable fluff. A tag is a thing of wonder -- even, it might be said, of beauty.

why I snoozed through the Oscars

2006-03-05T21:06:00.000-08:00

I'm just Oscared out. And my crib is so cozy. And you can only watch so many self-congratulatory speeches by the likes of Rachel Weisz and Reese Witherspoon before you puke up your pureed peas. My mom has plenty to say on the best of categories over at Ed Champion's live Oscar blog (as in Best Freudian Slip and Best Speech by a Drunk Guy). Back to the crib, dude.

The Oscars are upon us

2006-03-02T06:57:00.000-08:00

Well, here we are, Oscar time again, and I completely forgot my plan to host my own 30 (or is it 31?) days of Oscar here on Oscar's blog. But since Oscar Phelan is truly the one definitive Oscar, it's only fitting that he should weigh in on the Hollywood proceedings. Unfortunately, Oscar only saw a couple of movies this year, because there was a very short window during which he was young enough and sleepy enough to doze off in the Baby Bjorn while I stood in the aisle at the movie theatre, swaying back and forth.

The film that seemed to have the most impact on him was Best of Youth, although we only made it to Part 1, and we had to leave halfway through. We also saw a couple of action flicks in the beginning there, which actually worked quite well, because the noise lulled him to sleep. The kind of movies I truly admire--the quiet, moody ones--were impossible to see with Oscar in tow, because in the silences the other theatre-goers could hear all his oohs and ahhs, his cries and screams, his soft little baby farts and his wild fits. So during those first few months, I saw more action flicks than I'd ever seen before or hope to ever see again.

Now I have to go through old ticket stubs from the Balboa to see just what movies he had the early pleasure of viewing. A bientot.

2006-02-10T11:14:00.000-08:00

Oscar with Aunt Sarah

an oscar by any other name

2005-12-30T11:47:00.000-08:00

Now that my first year of life is solidly behind me, I'd like to recount some of the embarrassing nicknames my parents have ill-advisedly labeled me with during my short and eventful life:
1) Nukie Boudreaux
This was my first nickname, bestowed upon me by my father, who has some rather hair-brained ideas about my mother's upbringing in the South. He began calling me Nukie Boudreaux when I was about two weeks old, and he added insult to injury by affecting a bizarre Virginia Tidewater accent.
2) Boopie Doll
Mom's concoction, of course. Entirely ridiculous. I have no clue as to its origin or meaning.
3) Mr. Pants
My favorite. They started using this one when I was about three months old and wore my first pair of actual pants. It strikes me as quite dignified.
4) Sweet Potato Pie
Also mom's. Because I eat sweet potatoes and pretty much nothing else. This would be fine if I were a girl, but, hello, I'm not.
4) Sir Poops-a-Lot
A disgrace. Quite blatantly ripped off from my Uncle Patrick and Aunt Sarah's cat. I am not a cat. Nor am I amused by scatalogical humor, for the record.

Might I reiterate: I AM OSCAR. Why must I be saddled with such egg-headed misnomers?

2005-12-24T08:11:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas!

call me shroeder

2005-12-05T10:51:00.000-08:00

Here I am playing my Schoenhut yesterday, the day before my first birthday. I had a party. People brought me loud plastic stuff. I didn't like my cake, because it made my hands dirty, but other than that it was a sweel shindig.

first birthday cake

2005-12-02T08:48:00.000-08:00

I turn one on Monday. Mom ordered the fancy, full-sugar party cake from Noe Valley Bakery, but she's making a separate cake for me to get messy with. It calls for apple juice instead of sugar. She thinks I won't notice. Ha. This recipe is from wholesomebabyfood.com

Baby's First Birthday Cake (Carrot Cake)
(Makes 1 double-layer 9-inch square cake)

~ 2 1/2 cups thinly sliced carrots
~ 2 1/2 cups apple juice concentrate (you may use slightly less)
~ 1 1/2 cups raisins
Vegetable Spray/Shortening
~ 2 cups whole-wheat flour
~ 1/2 cup vegetable oil
~ 2 whole eggs
~ 4 egg whites
~ 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
~ 3/4 cup unsweetened applesauce
~ 1/2 cup wheat germ
~ 2 Tbsp low sodium baking powder
~ 1 Tbsp ground cinnamon

Prep: Preheat oven to 350 F. Line two 9 inch square cake pans with waxed paper and spray the paper with vegetable spray/shortening.

1. Combine the carrots with 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons of the juice concentrate in a medium size saucepan.

2. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer, covered, until carrots are tender, 15 to 20 mins. Puree in a blender of food processor until smooth.

3. Add the raisins and process until finely chopped. Let mixture cool.

4. Combine the flour, wheat germ, baking powder, and cinnamon in a large mixing bowl. Add 1 1/4 cups juice concentrate, the oil, eggs, egg whites, and vanilla; beat just until well mixed. Fold in the carrot puree and applesauce. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pans.

5. Bake until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean, 35 to 40 mins. Cool briefly in the pans, then turn out onto wire racks to cool completely. When cool, frost with Cream Cheese Frosting.

evolution

2005-12-02T07:17:00.000-08:00

I took three consecutive unaided steps yesterday. Here's how it happened: I was standing in the hallway, facing the living room windows, through which I could see the blinking, multi-colored Christmas lights in the house across the street. Off I went toward the lights. Which is to say that all I ever need was a little motivation.

2005-11-28T10:25:00.000-08:00

D is for Dude.

the bart simpson float and how I came to be me

2005-11-24T09:50:00.000-08:00

Nine years ago today, my mom and dad woke up, looked out the window of their one-bedroom apartment at 84th and Central Park West, and saw Bart Simpson floating down the street. It was 1994, cold and rainy, their first glimpse of the Macy's Day Parade. This morning, at 5:00 a.m., they woke up and saw me. Perhaps they were thinking that I'm considerably noisier on a Thanksgiving morning than Bart Simpson. Cuter, to be sure, but somewhat more demanding. With Bart, they could simply close the curtains and he would disappear. Not me. I'm here for the duration.

In those days they were very new to the city, had just arrived there in fact, the day before Thanksgiving. They drove to Manhattan from Fayetteville, Arkansas in a little Toyota truck which they promptly sold, because there was no place to park it. That first Thanksgiving in New York, they ate pizza at Ray's and saw a movie at Lowes on the Upper West Side.

A few days later my mom flew back to Miami, where she was a grad student. Meanwhile, my dad set up house in the 84th street apartment, which he was subletting for the bargain price of one thousand bucks per month from a crazy aging model who kept the place filled with weird outfits from the 80s, ancient copies of Vogue and Mademoiselle, self-help books, and to-do lists containing items like, "Become friends with Elle." Occasionally over the next three years, the model would show up unannounced, rifle through the massive armoire that took up 1/3 of the tiny bedroom, and remove any of my mom's clothes that happened to have slipped into the mix.

Now my parents have their own house in San Francisco (warm today, no hint of rain), their own closets, a teeny tiny ocean view, and me. No sign of Bart Simpson yet, but I'm keeping my figners crossed.

steak oscar: the definitive recipe

2005-11-22T14:30:00.000-08:00

A couple of years before I descended from the ether of some luminous outer space, my parents spent almost three weeks in Argentina, where they traipsed through Patagonia, braved a blackout in Ushuaia, bought gorgeous handbags in Palermo Viejo, and feasted on the best steak they'd ever tasted. The restaurant they couldn't get enough of was a down-to-earth family affair, very popular with the locals, called El Portugues, home of hands-down the best steak those two ravenous carnivores had ever tasted. The chefs of El Portugues would not divulge their secrets, but here, for your culinary pleasure, is a pretty sweet recipe for STEAK OSCAR, from epicurean.com. Of course, you'll need to invest in some fine argentenian beef.

Ingredients:
4 (8 oz.) filets, cooked
medium
1/2 lb. crabmeat
12 asparagus spears, cooked
1/2 c. chopped pimento
paprika on top

White Sauce:
2 Tbsp. butter
2 Tbsp. flour
1 c. scalded milk or cream
salt to taste
pepper to taste

Directions:
Melt butter in saucepan; gradually stir in flour. Stir roux over low heat for about 5 minutes. It should not take color. Stir in milk slowly and continue to cook, stirring
until smooth and thick. Season to taste. Makes 1 cup. Place small amount of crabmeat and 3 spears of asparagus on each filet. Put white sauce over all and sprinkle with
paprika. Serves about 4 or 5 people.

For a sort-of steak oscar by some other name, visit the culinary queen over at aimless forest.

nosh & the string cheese incident

2005-11-20T10:17:00.000-08:00

Two days ago, my mom finally got her act together in the culinary department and let me have my first taste of string cheese. Now I can't get enough. I've also started sinking my teeth into crackers and bananas (the latter cut up into itty bitty pieces). It's about time. Other babies my age are surely cutting their own steak by now, while I've been long condemned to that pureed crap they sell in little glass jars.

They all want to be me.

2005-11-18T08:34:00.000-08:00

You may have heard about the recent brou-haha over Oscar Bluth, a.k.a. Imate #24601, who claims to have been wrongly imprisoned due to mistaken identity. According to said Oscar, he's not the fellow the feds want for building houses for Saddam Hussein; the man they really should be after, he claims, is his brother George Bluth Sr., infamously corrupt head of the flailing Bluth empire--whose daring or idiotic escape (depending on one's perspective) likely involved some sort of airport stair car, and whose probable accomplice recently embarked upon a lucrative and highly irregular career in law following a lengthy run as television's studliest biker.

I have it on good evidence (like Judith Miller, I will not reveal my sources--not ever! not for anything! unless, of course, I have to go to prison, in which case I'd give up my own mother) that Oscar Bluth does not exist. Oscar and George are, in fact, one and the same. This whole "twins" thing was cooked up as a way for George to avoid his just and inevitable incarceration. At eleven months and change, I have more maturity in my little finger than George, "Oscar," Fonzie, & Bob Loblaw combined; every one of them, if you ask me, is suffering from a serious case of arrested development.

This so-called "Oscar" Bluth is only one impostor among hundreds. I shall make it my mission to fake Oscars where they hide and out the evil that imperils the livelihood and reputations of all true Oscars. ONWARD.

The Real Oscar Wears Onesies

2005-11-18T07:24:00.000-08:00

oscar