At this point, I go on a pudding run. (It's the stovetop kind that you actually have to cook, you know, and it's in a special dish and everything. It is Special Pudding.) "I thought you were blogging or whatever?" says my mother as I flash past her. She even had dinner ready early so I wouldn't be juggling a plate during the show itself, which was really sweet. I think in a weird way she kind of takes this internet stuff seriously now. Anyway, she made pudding (Special Pudding)--for the occasion? I don't know. All I know is, I gotta run. By the time I get back, they're still only up to Schindler's List, and this is not even including his TV and producing credits.
Big drunken standing ovation! Because Spielberg will have anyone still seated killed! I'm just kidding I want to live! He's talking about electric trains and The Greatest Show on Earth and his favorite scene and how he made his first movie about wrecking his train set so his father wouldn't kick his ass for wrecking it again so that's why he made movies so this award has real personal meaning! I kind of wish he'd drunk more. If you're gonna ramble, ramble incoherently, that's all I'm saying. I am understanding way too many of the words coming out of his mouth. And he's still saying them. I can ramble about pudding some more if I have to--WAIT, "Make more movies for broader audiences"? Are you SHITTING ME? THAT'S what we need? I just--I don't even have the time or energy to explain what is wrong with that statement.
(ETA: Ah, the pudding tells me he may have been rambling against that mindset. I am somewhat soothed.)