I’ve taken 30 minutes out of my honeymoon to do the one thing I kind of enjoy every February; struggling to predict the Academy Awards to perfection. Only once I get a 24 out of 24 will I be free of the curse that the Bog Witch of the Greater Chicago Suburbs has put on me. Then, and only then will I be able to stop making these awful predictions. And also she’ll turn my frog feet back into human feet. So here we go!