Smidge of a confession: I love award shows.
Tonight is typically one of my favorite nights of the year: the annual Golden Globes ceremony. The party that attracts stars both large and small. Hollywood film commingled with back lot TV. Jack Nicholson impatiently smirking and bearing through Grey's Anatomy acceptance speeches. As if he has the time for this.
Rarely have I actually seen the films that have been nominated. Not from lack of interest, or even lack of effort. Lack of babysitters, mostly. Babysitters are an endangered species.
Yet I've still managed to enjoy the vicarious thrill of a well-deserved (I assume) Joaquin Phoenix victory. I've felt momentary sisterhood with Helen Hunt as she accepted awards on both platforms, validating the neuroses of overachieving women everywhere.
I confess, I feel connected to these people on Globe night. They are family - insanely wealthy, crisis-plagued, rehab-bound, emotionally crippled family. And you can tell they are so grateful to be able to relax and just be themselves for one night: noshing and smiling, seated at round tables instead of crammed into those awful theater seats. Oh, and millions of people are watching, so you know their relaxed behavior is totally genuine. Like that year Ryan Phillipe whooped it up when Reese won, minutes before they filed for divorce.
It's a sick, sick spectacle, that's the truth of the matter. It means absolutely nothing in the scheme of my life. But I love it. And it's not on this year.
Well, it is, technically...awards will be announced via news conference. No pretty dresses. No fake "Can't believe I actually won" dramatics. No Clooney. No need to watch.
On a positive note, it's going to snow tonight. Again...
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