This town is magic. If you don't believe me, check out how I spent my first Oscar night in Los Angeles. It went as follows:

For the first hour of the ceremony, I was in a station wagon driving back from my parents' house in Phoenix. This drive proved a bit more arduous than our usual trip, despite the welcome addition of XM satellite radio, a technological upgrade that I received for my 36th birthday. I realize that I now have satellite radio but lack health insurance, but then again, XM didn't stop me from purchasing their service because I take antidepressants. Anyway, Elijah had a bit of a cold over the weekend, so we cared for him. That kid has been sick three days in his life, and even on those days, he's gone to the zoo or something equally fun. So while it was a bit heartbreaking to hear him say, in the car, "why does everybody get sick sometimes?", I also wanted to tell him, "buck up, junior. Some people have real problems." But I did not, because that's the kind of shit people used to tell me when I was a kid, not realizing that my sad feelings were real, man. But the point of all this is that you haven't lived until you've rubbed mentholated ointment on your son's chest at a rest-stop in Quartzite, Arizona.

After we got home, we kept the Oscars at bay because I also received TIVO for my birthday. Again, TIVO has no health restrictions for membership. So while my magic dancing television box recorded some bad dance numbers and what amounted to about 15 minutes of bonus Daily Show jokes, I gave Elijah a bath. While he was in the tub, Regina and I ate a gourmet dinner of frozen chicken taquitos, rice, and avocado slices. Then, it was story time.

Elijah doesn't really like narrative books much. Our storytimes usually consist of him bringing me a book about animals, and then of him telling me everything about the animals in the book. Tonight, we did his current favorite, a coloring book of Desert Animals Of The Southwest, as well as the old standby, Sharks And Other Dangers Of The Deep. I think it's pretty cool that he can recognize a kangaroo rat by sight, but then again, he is my kid.

It came time to cut Elijah's nails, which were still soft from the bath. Regina does the cutting, because I've smoked too much pot in my life and I would probably slice off Elijah's fingertips. My job is to entertain him and keep the simpering at a minimum. My job was easy this time. I looked down, and peeking out from underneath the couch was a mini-carrot, or what once was a mini-carrot. This thing had probably been lurking under there for a week, if not a month, and it had become completely shrivelled. It was, I said to my son, a "carrot mummy." He thought this was hilarious, and said,

"It looks like a piece of poo!"

Regina and I shook our heads.

"You can do better than that, Elijah," she said.

"Try again," I said.

"OK," he said. "It looks like a chicken finger!"

"Much better," said Regina.

"Definitely," I said. "A more surprising reference."

Then I showed my son what comedy was all about by placing the carrot on the belly of our cat Teacake, who was splayed out on the couch between me and Regina, who had Elijah on her lap.

"Look," I said. "This is Teacake's peenie!"

Regina moved to protest, but then Elijah started laughing so uproariously that she didn't have the heart to correct me. Nothing on earth, apparently, is funnier than a pretending that a dessicated carrot is a senile cat's penis. While Elijah was distracted, she finished cutting his nails. Then he had a massive quasi-bronchial coughing fit, and we had to re-apply the menthol.

Then he went to bed and then Regina and I watched the Oscars. You all know how that turned out, thanks to the commentary of people better-paid than me who aren't also trying to make some money screenwriting in Hollywood. So let me just say that the movies are magic and I love everyone I've ever met here, except for one person, and you know who you are.

We got through the Oscars quickly enough, and then it was on to my main course: The Suns-Mavericks game, TIVOed from earlier that day. I had the great privilege, thanks to the patronage of my high-school friend Jason Franz, of attending the Suns-Magic game on Friday night in pretty high style. We had eleventh row seats, behind the basket, and got to eat dinner in a reasonable swanky lounge with lots of men who wore bad cologne. I bore witness to a fine display of basketball artistry. I had some criticisms of the Suns early in the season, but it's apparent now that this is a fine-tuned machine run by a genius. I truly think that the Suns are going to win the title this year. Finally, after 30 years of fruitless rooting, I am staked with a team that cannot lose.

We were getting beaten, not by much, but definitely beaten, by a far lesser team well into the fourth quarter. Yet I never felt that the game was in doubt. Mike D'Antoni is a sly dude. He basically tells his team to not play defense until the last six minutes, and then to play all-out. They also take a lot of charges and pull unexpected double-teams. For a team that averages 109 points a game, that's enough.

So yes, they beat the Magic, and I got to lose myself in an 18,000-person like-minded roar of the type that's usually reserved in Phoenix for Tim McGraw or a high-end visiting preacher. But the real test came today on the road against the Mavericks, a team of merit that boasted a 16-game win streak coming in. And again, we hung around, more or less, for 40 minutes, and then we turned up the press and won the game going away. The NBA is spending a lot of time putting LeBron James and Kobe Bryant on the schedule. Next Sunday, again, it's a Cavs game and a Lakers game. Also, there's the option of watching the crappy Rockets in some time zones. But the Suns are the real team to watch this year. They pass, they shoot, they jump real high. They're from France and Canada and Brazil, and some of them are even from the U.S. They are your 2006 World Championship Phoenix Suns, and you heard it here first.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have an Oscar after-party to attend. In my pants. Thank you very much.

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