Jack’s back from the dead in the most explosive season ever (they’ve assassinated President Palmer, killed Michelle and seriously injured Tony, and now the Russians have taken Terminal One at Ontario airport) and even still I opted to wait until midnight to watch the second half of the four-hour season premiere, so I could catch the Golden Globes in their entirety. I’ve elected less sleep. More tv.
Could Don Johnson been more the proud papa? And for that matter could Miss Golden Globe have been more the “embarrassed to be on the same stage with my mother” daughter? And seriously who could blame her? Is Melanie on crack or what? And what is up with all the tattoos?
I felt bad for Matt Dillion on the red carpet before the show. He was so inarticulate and boring, god love him. He seemed a little dazed and confused. He’s so frigging serious. He was good in Crash though. It’s a good movie, but Matt on the carpet and then later even when presenting . . . kinda space cadet.
I was jumping up and down with Sandra Oh’s excited win. One of ours. Go Canada! I was rooting for her, have enjoyed her for a long time. Ever since, what was it called? The Last Day?
Completely appalled by Drew Barrymore’s breasts! I mean I totally love Drew, don’t get me wrong, but she was definitely the actress in most need of a good bra tonight. I mean it wasn’t so much that her nipples were completely exposed, it was her breasts hanging around her waist that was too much. Bras are good.
How great did Nicollette Sheridan look? She was gorgeous in that blue dress. She gets my vote for best dressed of the night, followed by Scarlett Johansen in red. Lovely.
What was up with the speeches? Geena Davis lies about a little girl, then House pulls names from his pocket and The Office guy reads the speech his wife wrote. There were a lot of unusual speeches tonight.
How jealous was I that Cynthia Nixon got to sit beside Ed Harris? I’ve got such a crush on him. Must be those amazing blue eyes.
Chris Rock was out of control. Seriously. I don’t think those jokes were on the teleprompter . . .
How much did I love that Mary Louise Parker beat the Desperate Housewives, though the thank you to John Spencer was a little weird? But Felicity Huffman winning Best Actress in film Drama totally rocked! I teared up.
And how much do I love anything Irish?! Jonathan Rhys-Meyers! Kelly MacDonald! And of course my boy, Cillian, who was up for Best Actor in a Comedy/Musical. I just love him. I can never go to Dublin, I might not return.
Walk the Line smoked, like I hoped it would. Though it’ll be up against Brokeback Mountain come Oscar time, which also smoked tonight.
Philip Seymour Hoffman! How long have I loved him? Since forever! Boogie Nights, Magnolia, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Almost Famous, Love Liza, Punch-Drunk-Love, Cold Mountain . . . I wanted to see Capote, and now I must go. It’s playing Thursday night here as part of the Film Society nights.
Gotta love award night! And now I’m even more prepared to kick some serious butt and hold onto the Pink Panther in the 2nd Annual Keenan Oscar Competition.
Listening To: Jack Bauer
Hair: being treated for split endz