A couple days ago I got a text asking if I'd like to attend a few Golden Globe After Parties. It took me all of half a second to text back, "OMG yes!"
I was pretty excited, too, until I got the follow up text asking if I had enough time to get a dress.
Now, left to my own devices, I'd end up wearing a sweater dress, leggings and combat boots, because that would be comfortable. So, I knew I needed help. I instantly began texting, twittering and emailing girlfriends. It was Alex and Odessa of Sweet As... who came to my rescue, but it wasn't as easy as all that. Nooo. Of course not. This is me we're talking about, after all.
I had 2 days to acquire all necessary items BUT I had no access to a car (the better half was working all weekend and we share a car because we're
So, I did what I do best and tried mooching rides off of friends, but then that didn't pan out. Of course. So, I took a damn taxi (that the better half paid for because, hello, post-holiday broke ass over here).
You might think the fun stops there, but it doesn't, no, the hits just keep on a-coming!
So, I'm in my taxi and the guy's got his windows down, the heat cranked so high I start sweating profusely, ridiculous rave music playing loudly, and he's yammering away on his Bluetooth the whole time.
Then he farts.
I shit you not. The smell hit me like a ton of bricks. I coughed/gagged (not sure which one), he glanced at me quickly with a nervous eye twitch in the rear-view mirror, then went right back to ignoring me. This happened approximately 3 more times. Oh, it was a joy ride, to be sure.
Also, he got lost. And he was using GPS. Really? Sigh.
I got there eventually and it was so much fun and felt so glamorous to be dressed by someone else. I felt like a Barbie doll.
They picked out everything, the whole ensemble. It was a one stop shop!
Upon arriving to the Beverly Hilton, we were supposed to get in some VIP HFPA line but the security was so insanely disorganized we were told everyone had to get into the same big line out front in the rain because that was the only fair thing to do. Um, ok.
While we were finding that out, I was checking out my surroundings. Right in front of us was a smartly dressed Evan Rachel Wood and her entourage. She was able to get in no problem, but security stopped and hassled her friends. Then I saw Jonah Hill looking frazzled and seemingly harassed by security. At this point, I was like, if these guys are having problems getting in without queuing, what are our chances?
Once inside, the first party we tried to get into was InStyle. There was a lot of mayhem outside the entrance; actors and actresses being quickly shuffled in and out past a cordoned off section with screaming fans in cheap prom dresses flash-flash-flashing away.
During this commotion, I saw freakishly tall Tim Robbins getting mobbed by fans begging for pics with their giant iPads shoved in his face and a striking Charlize Theron moving through the crowd like lightning - she's one of those people who are so pretty in real life it's mind boggling.
Unfortunately, we were short one ticket, so we decided to check out the Sony party first instead.
Here's the only photo I took there:
|I believe it's fairly obvious what my goal was at this point.|
Next we went over to the HBO party where I pretty much could have happily stayed all night.
HBO had a large spread. We entered into a lobby/lounge area. Upon walking in, a large gentleman in a rich suit pointed me up and down and announced loudly to anyone listening, "Now that is a stunning dress." I beamed. Yay!
Eventually we made our way outside and over to another bar where an odd mix of music boomed. The HBO DJ was without a doubt the best worst DJ I have ever experienced. Katy Perry (ugh) into New Order (ok getting better) into - wait for it - Su-Su-Sudio by Phil Collins (se-se-seriously?). Time for more booze...
This time near the bar I saw Jared Harris (Mad Men) and Bret McKenzie (Flight of the Conchords.) Coolness.
After acquiring more social lubricant, we made our way over to the awesomely bad DJ so I could rock out to Roy Orbison and photo bomb Californication's Evan Handler's (Charlie Runkle) friend's photos. Heehee. Then I made my way over to the HBO wall to get my photo op on.
|All the other gals went with "sexy" while posing, but I opted for "goofy" (like I have a choice).|
Then I ran into Stephen Spielberg, pitched my script and he offered to produce it.
Ha ha ha. I wish!
Seriously, though, it was getting late, the party seemed to begin winding down, so we had to make a decision fast: stay at HBO, continue on to Fox, or try InStyle again (with the hopes we could get another ticket or get walked in). Unfortunately for me, we chose the latter and I got shafted but that's ok. I had fun milling about the lobby with the crazy culture clash of rabid fans and Golden Globe winners, nominees, and randoms. Some drunk chick told me I looked beautiful. I saw Breaking Bad's Bryan Cranston (Walt) posing for photos with fans and Aaron Paul (Jesse) - who I almost walked up to like I knew him because for a split second I thought I recognized him from, well, y'know, real life and then it dawned on me that, in fact, no, I did not know him IRL, he's on a fucking TV show. Clearly I need to get out more.
All in all, I had a blast at my first Golden Globes after party. I used to go to similar events as a seatfiller, which is like lower than a PA, so it was nice to have VIP passes to a big, Hollywood event instead of being a lowly peon (oh, I have stories from those days, I tell ya!). Next time, tho, I'd like to go as a nominee for best original or adapted screenplay.
No, no, no, not really. It's not about the awards and prestige, it's about the storytelling...
Oh, who am I kidding? Please give me an award. Thank you.