Ya Gotta Love The Golden Globes
My boyfriend, Kevin Spacey, had a handsome date with lots of silver hair: they looked coy and yummy together. Oh, Kevin, darling, be HAPPY. Be OUT.
Glimmeringly botoxed, siliconed beauty Teri Hatcher provided the surprise touching moment of the night, emphasizing in her teary acceptance speech that she was until quite recently a "total has-been." The creator of her show, "Desperate Housewives," (which I've never seen) thanked his Mom, who apparently supported him financially during recent lean years of unemployment and who gave him the idea for the show. "That's good parenting," he said. It was all very sweet and just the antidote to this oppressively gray weather we've been having lately.
The Hollywood Foreign Press gets a lot of grief for not being as highbrow as the ACADEMY, but I'll tell ya, they put on a hell of a party, and they throw a lot of dough at humanitarian causes, so good on 'em. I'm just so glad I skipped the shrieking harpies, Melissa and Joan Rivers, during the obligatory, pre-show red carpet stuff (you could not GET me to miss the red carpet!). The comic Kathy Griffin was much funnier. She asked all the arriving celebs, "Who are you wearing?" and no matter what they answered, she'd say, "Me, too!" It never got old.
I must dab at my eyes with a fresh hankie when I think of the comfortable, gorgeous fleshiness strutted by Meryl Street and Anjelica Huston, who always look as though they spent the afternoon in bed with their husbands, eating pasta, drinking wine and swyving, and are holding back peals of laughter at themselves and their youth-and-skinniness obsessed industry. KISSES, ladies. You could not be more outlaw and you make me swoon.
Your Hollywood Correspondent, Peacebang