I will eat tortilla chips.

I will drink wine.

I will tweet something nasty about J-Lo’s gown while wiping salsa off my mouth with my sweatshirt.

I will eat more tortilla chips.

I will drink more wine.

I will attempt to hug my cats while singing “Shallow” like Lady Gaga.

I will require a first aid kit.

I will ask if anyone else has fantasies about Dick Cheney in Vice.

I will attempt to get the hashtag #CheneySoSexy trending.

I will switch to vodka.

I will loudly argue that nominated documentary Free Solo is about that time Han Solo was stuck in carbonite, then continue making my point in Wookie sounds.

I will call 311 and yell, “Where the fuck is Billy Crystal?”

I will be told by my guests that they suddenly have to leave early.

I will take off my bra and throw it at the TV when Paul Rudd presents.

I will get into at least five Facebook arguments about Sacheen Littlefeather.

I will hit my limit.

I will hurt myself trying to say “Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award” three times fast.

I will wake up in the guest room.

- - -

Read Wendi Aarons’
2010 Oscar Predictions