Stunned

[I spent four weeks last night at Dolores House watching the Golden Globes...every single minute, but with the commercials muted except for the cute ones for that new Hugh Grant/Drew Barrymore movie, because that's what Allen, Charlotte and Carrie do - watch the commercials with the sound off. Whatever. Anyway, by the end, I felt like what an elephant must feel like when hit with several simultaneous shotgun blasts plus like a gallon of angel dust, which as Mother Mucca told us is for puttin' elephants to sleep, Dolly.]

[My God, what a damned long show. But I can't say I didn't enjoy...most of it. I guess. The gluttonous surfeit of glamorous celebrity just beat me into submission. Plus, it was colder than a well-digger's left knee outside, so there was no way I was going to leave in the middle. I ended up spending the night on their sofa, in fact, where I had vivid, disturbing dreams of all my friends going a road trip without me. I made them mix tapes and everything...]

[Back to the Globes, though: no one's gonna be able to convince me that Jennifer Hudson had a supporting role in Dreamgirls while Beyonce Knowles's was a lead. Sorry, no, uh-uh. America Ferreira charmed me, as did Jeremy Irons and everybody else English. Of course they did.]

[Oh, and at least Jack Nicholson's daughter just maintained a suitably vacant look as she played the daffy, anachronistic role of "Miss Golden Globes," in which a barely nubile daughter of one (or two) past winners ushers befuddled winners and drunk presenters on and off the stage. A couple of years ago, I remember that Don Johnson's and Melanie Griffith's daughter Dakota bore a contemptuous scowl the entire time, which of course is what the thing deserves in real life. However, if you're gonna agree to play Vanna White for an evening, try to enjoy it, I say.]

[But I don't need to watch another awards show ever again. Please remind me of that as I mull which of my many glamorous Oscar party invitations to accept later this year...]

[Tonight I'm going to see Children of Men with Sean. Post-apocalyptic dystopias always make me feel all warm and cozy. One could certainly make a case that four bright but underemployed people in their 30s and 40s watching four-plus hours of the Golden Globes means we've already passed the Apocalypse and were just too numb to notice.]

Previously Next

[Later: After Children of Men...well, there goes my Anglophilia for the time being. I want my idealized combination of the Shire and swinging London, goddammit, not this, and V For Vendetta and 28 Days Later, and...]

[Great movie, though. It made me want to visit my 14-month-old niece, but she's in Guadalajara at the moment. Oh, and, yes, Clive Owen can guide me thru a war zone any old time.]