I’d like to thank the Academy, my husband, my family, my dressmaker …

Some little girls grow up using their hairbrush as a microphone, make-believing they'll one day reach rock star status. This little girl grew up using her hairbrush as a microphone, make-believing I'd one day deliver an Oscar speech.

Some college students go to bed in the month of February dreaming about which bikini they should wear on the beach at spring break. This college student went to bed in the month of February dreaming about what Minnie Driver would wear on the red carpet at the Oscars.

Detecting a theme? I kinda have a thing for the prestigious awards show. That's why I'm live-critiquing the red carpet and live-tweeting the Oscars -- live critweeting, if you will. Because, similar to the academy's sentiment toward Sally Field, I like it. I really like it.

I was 7 years old when she delivered that speech in 1985. Too young to appreciate the "Places in the Heart" role for which she won, but plenty old enough to know the feeling of wanting to be liked. I knew a good speech when I heard one and I knew a boring speech when I heard the orchestra interrupt it. D'oh!

You gotta feel for those people. Nothing like having your one moment of pure glory turn into your one moment of "get gone already." Then again, getting "played off" made for one of the most memorable -- and my personal favorite -- Oscar speeches of all time.

When Cuba Gooding Jr. accepted the golden guy for his turn as a down-on-his-luck football player in "Jerry Maguire" in 1997, it looked like your typical Oscar speech approaching. His wife got a shout-out and so did God, whom he thanked fourth and foremost, but the minute the orchestra music cued up, so did Gooding's realization that he may never have another shot at this thing.

He got an ecstatic case of the I love you's and finished with the academy's version of an end-zone dance. That's how you get "Oscar acceptance speech" to forever pop up in YouTube when your name is searched. And, that's how you get a standing ovation accompanied by lots of head-nodding and fist pumps in Hollywood.

The very next year, "Good Will Hunting" won an Oscar for best screenwriting. Ben Affleck and Matt Damon delivered the knockoff version of Gooding's speech, but there was something about it that just didn't sit right with me. I think it was because Ben Affleck and Matt Damon delivered the knockoff version of Gooding's speech.

Or it could've been because of the scandal that preceded the Oscars. If you believe the celebrity tabloids, and who doesn't, Damon ended his love affair with Minnie Driver on "The Oprah Winfrey Show." As the story goes, Oprah inquired about his British girlfriend and Damon broke the news, to the world and to Driver, that they'd split.

First came the gasps. And then came the gorgeous gowns. Designers love a story of scorn.

Driver's merlot Randolph Duke sheath dress dazzled fashion critics. As someone who dreamed about it at least twice, though, it registered as insufficient. She looked good, but not good enough to bite your knuckles. Not that I expected Sandy's black Spandex pants ("Grease" was nominated for "best song" at the 1979 Oscars, by the way) or anything. I mean, I know it's hard to find a dress that says, "Why'd you tell Oprah our relationship was over before me?" but if you want a man to eat his heart out you must first serve him his heart.

Tough critic? So I've been told.

That's what happens when you grow up with the likes of Geena Davis bringing her A game every year. Or Sharon Stone deciding in 1998 that the perfect topper to a violet Vera Wang skirt would be none other than a white men's shirt from GAP. If you can't look regal, like Davis, then you better get creative, like Stone.

The one that still haunts my heart for all-time best Oscar dress, though, goes to the Guy Laroche backless navy blue number Hilary Swank wore when she won her second best actress award for "Million Dollar Baby" in 2005. You just can't compete with a dress that winks hello and then kisses you goodbye.

I have the highest of expectations this year for Rooney Mara ("The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo"), Viola Davis ("The Help"), Michelle Williams ("My Week With Marilyn"), Melissa McCarthy ("Bridesmaids") and Berenice Bejo ("The Artist"). Those ladies better bring it. And then a couple of them better bring it back while delivering an amazing acceptance speech, the same way I did with my hairbrush all those years ago.

If you love the Oscars, the memorable speeches, the celebrity gossip and the fabulous fashion that goes with it, then join me Feb. 26 as I live-critweet the show.

Who knows? You might like it, you might really like it.

Contact columnist Xazmin Garza at xgarza@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0477.
Follow her on Twitter @startswithanx.