It seems people went out of their way to prove my Valentine predictions wrong.

Jeff actually went to work. Exposed himself to icky scented tokens of love and the like. I think it's because he has his own special Valentine this year. Ahhh amour.

And Todd was Mr. Spontaneously Unpredictable, spending Valentine's Day not at Pomodoro but instead in the hospital recovering from hours of surgery to repair the ankle he severely broke while skiing on Tuesday night. But Hayley was at his side. And though it's probably a Valentine they'd just as soon forget in the years to come, I think it serves as a testament to their "in sickness and in health", very genuine, very enviable love.

Plus he's Mr. Tough. Though obviously in big big pain yesterday when I spoke with him on the telephone, he managed to show some Todd-like enthusiasm for his self-administered morphine drip. He's already trying to figure out a way to pull his reserves.

So Todd embarks on the road to a long recovery, just as I embark on a flight to Paris. He thinks he got the short end of that stick, so send him a note to tell him you agree.

And that you hope he gets well soon.

Because I've got some cold hard cash just burning a hole in my pocket for his wedding "dollar dance" in July. And I plan to make him strut his stuff.

This morning was Oscar talk with LA Michael. I can't even remember how many years we've been doing this. An 8:38amEST/5:38amPST phone call. Both of us yawning. Me making coffee. Predictions. Screaming at the television for particularly spectacular or horrendous surprises. Waiting for Meryl Streep and Woody Allen to get their obligatory nominations, even if they didn't make a film last year.

This morning was a bit different. Halfway through the nominations Michael whispered, "I'm bored." I've only seen two films nominated in any category. 2000, well, *lacked*. There's no other way to put it.

I told him that I stopped predicting winners until a week before the ceremony. It seems that every time I do it any earlier than that, someone gets a big buzz at the end and then I get screwed. He said it's different there. With the trade magazines and the television advertising, he can already tell who has enough push to win.

And that's when I realized that we do, indeed, live in essentially the same town. DC is, as Michael says, the "ugly Hollywood". Here we get full page ads in The Washington Post and prime time commercials encouraging Congress to vote for or against Bush's cabinet nominees or items on his legislative agenda. There Harvey Weinstein has made Juliette Binoche and Johnny Depp ubiquitous enough to garner a Best Picture nomination.

Same thing.

Bizarro.