Wait. It’s almost the weekend before the Oscars. So why don’t I care?

I don’t think I exhibit every gay stereotype, but I will confess a deep and abiding love for Stevie Nicks and a seriously unnerving fascination with Disney animated musicals (at least until Tarzan, which is when they started to suck, and excluding Hercules and The Lion King, which I consider seriously sub-par).

And the Oscars. I’ve always really, really loved the Oscars. My friends couldn’t sleep the night before Christmas, but for me it was the night before the Oscars. Why did I care that Susan Sarandon finally won that well-deserved Oscar for Dead Man Walking, her fifth nomination? Why did I want so badly for Brad Pitt not to win for his affected, annoying performance in Twelve Monkeys?

I don’t know. But I did. I really, really did.

This year? Not so much. I suppose I’ll watch the damn thing. But definitely on Tivo, not live, which means I’m not sitting through any commercials, and probably not the musical numbers either. The honorary Oscar? Maybe, but only if it’s being given to someone interesting. (I don’t even know if they’re giving one this year! How revealing is that?)

Is this unexpected disinterest a function of age? I’m, uh…more than 35 now. And while I confess I was totally into the last few Oscar ceremonies, my interest may have been artificially inflated by Brokeback Mountain, which spoke to me in a way that no movie had since…well, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy in the years before that, a movie that validated in the inner geek in me in a way I never thought possible.

Is my disinterest partly the result of some lingering resentment over Brokeback Mountain’s outrageous loss at the 2005 Oscars — a decision that seemed pretty clearly to be the result of industry-wide homophobia?

I admit to still being a little bitter; if The Lord of the Rings finally validated the inner geek in me, Brokeback Mountain was a little like being voted prom-queen only to later learn, not unlike Sissy Spacek in her Oscar-nominated turn in Carrie, that it was all a joke involving a bucket of pig’s blood and John Travolta in a bad tux.

Or maybe it’s the selection of movies this year. So many of the nominations are for movies I just didn’t care for. Charlie Wilson’s War was a talky snooze-fest. Away From Her was a quiet, incredibly well-acted snooze-fest. And while I loved Ellen Page in last year’s Hard Candy, she just wouldn’t shut up in Juno, which I found to be the most overrated movie since…well, No Country for Old Men, which would have been a great film if it wasn’t for that ridiculous, confusing ending.

I confess, it’s really cool that Cate Blanchett is nominated for two performances in the same year — only the 11th time that’s ever happened. Problem is, it’s for two movies you couldn’t drag me to see.

And what is this There Will Be Blood movie? I mean, is it asking too much to pick a title that isn’t the tagline for the Saw horror movie franchise? Every time I hear it, I think Jigsaw is going to pop up with a metal face-cage.

Incidentally, could the poster for There Will Be Blood make it look any more boring and pretentious? I’ve heard good things about the film, and I do plan to see it, especially since I liked Paul Thomas Anderson’s Boogie Nights so much. But There Will Be Blood looks to me like a heaping plate of raw, unseasoned broccoli.

I suppose I could watch the Oscars for the dresses on the red carpet and all that stuff, but that part of the hype has never really appealed to me (see?! I’m not just a total gay stereotype!).