I attended the wonderful Emmy Awards last night at the Shrine Auditorium.
It was a gala event filled with glorious celebrities with wonderful dresses and sparkling smiles… It was a room packed with the excitement of a thousand nights, celebrating all that is Television in the most classy way possible. Everywhere you looked there were stars mingling with the “regular folk” — going against the grain and proving to most that they are genuine, down-to-earth, and normal human beings just like the rest of us.
Oh, and Paula Abdul‘s assistant needs to start using deodorant.
Do you have a new car?
Does your car come equipped with one of those “OnStar” or “SOS” buttons inside it? The kind where, if god forbid your car was hanging off an embankment, you would press and scream into so the authorities would come as quickly as possible to save you? The kind that, without actually even having a telephone feature enabled in your car, still calls someone…somewhere, with the simple push of a button?
Mine does. And it’s quickly replaced the crank calls of yesteryear.
Aren’t the Emmy’s all about people saying, “Um, me?”
Well, it should be — because the most amusing part of the whole Emmy awards ceremony and after parties is the fact that every single person attending, from the most lowly Television Industry assistant to the highest Network President is constantly angling to get themselves in a position where the attention is slathered upon themselves.
Sadly, it’s just our friendly neighborhood stars who get the true Emmy attention.
But in order to give you the whole entire rundown of the whole entire sordid affair — I must first turn back the hands of time to Saturday night when I attended the NBC/Vanity Fair pre-Emmy party at Spago in Beverly Hills.