Some of our friends really half-ass things. We threw an Oscar party this weekend (and thank god because there was no way we would have gotten through it without wine and catty company) and asked everyone to bring a dish inspired by one of the nominated films. For our part, we roasted a duck in a dark sesame and honey glaze to turn it black, an obvious homage to Black Swan. We also attempted to create a Mr Potato Head cake in honor of Toy Story 3 and the results were terrifying. Like, Tim Burton-meets-the-cartoonists-of-Doug-meets-a-creepy-five-year-old-cake-maker terrifying.
Despite the less than stellar cake, we really put effort into our contributions. And while it would be unfair to say that no one else put thought into their food, it would be fair to say that a few guests shat the bed when it came to giving a shit.
The most creative interpretation was this severed hand chicken wing platter inspired, of course, by 127 hours.
We were going to take pictures of the other snacks, but figured no one would want to see a table full of clearance-priced gas station food. We ended up with a bowl of mini chocolate covered pretzels (The Social Network...); crustless wonder bread sandwiches with cucumber and cream cheese (The Kings Speech...); three bottles of alcohol-free "wine" (The Kids Are Alright...) and a chicken box from Royal Farms because "they ate fried chicken on the trail" (True Grit...).
As a punishment we'll leave them (and you) with the face of satan shimself: