Dordyline: Keli and Jordyn do the Oscars.

Jordyn fact- I love the Oscars...or to be more honest, I love men in tuxedos and if there is one place that has plenty of those...it's the Oscars! So last night I was pumped as pie to snuggle up in my bed, ignore responsibility, drink too much wine and virtually hang out with one of my best friends. This was the outcome.

Ellen's Twitter

We started off strong. Little Baby Leto aka too pretty aka damn girl you workin' that ombre aka ugh the face rightfully one his Oscar....

We were ovaries deep in wine and lame montages...

We took advantage of the ad breaks to really debate the important issues of the moment....like brothers Hemsworth!

At this point we got a little sidetracked...

Ok.... very sidetracked...

We cried....

Pink showed up just in time to pay tribute to one of my favourite movies of all time...drunk Jordyn was loving it.

At this point, Keli switched the focus to her brilliant career goals...honestly, it's brilliant.

I made sure that she knew what was important in all of this....

Keli was wrong.

At this point Gravity showed up and essentially just ghetto stomped all over the damn stage (Except without George Clooney which was a travesty and I wasn't having it!)

Eventually we got so sick of Gravity....(and the lack of George Clooney!) that all we wanted was a Frozen sing-a-long to make it stop....

Idina finally showed up, just in time for John Travolta to butcher her name...get it together Zucko!

It wasn't great...

Keli isn't from America so she isn't used to ad breaks every 45 seconds shoving goods and services down your throat and deep into your core so you are forced to spend, spend, spend, spend....what was I saying? You know what would be good now...Taco Bell.....spend...spend....spend...

After seeing the trailer of 12 years a slave 45 times the inevitable happened....

I had finally realized (three hours in) that George Clooney wasn't coming.....my heart broke.

Luckily for me, there were plenty of other men to creep on. Seriously you don't realize how rapey you sound until you go back and read drunk conversations.

Sorry Zac Efron