Sooo, after ten, count them ten, days on the New Job, they’re sending me to the Emmys to blog live. Not just locally, but–glory of stupendously distastrous glories, and possessed of an absolutely sublime capacity for monumental failure on a grand stage–it will be national as well. Ha! Hahahaha! Ahahaha! Ahem.
[Darth Vader voice] The FOOLS.
Ok, ok. No, I’m kidding. If there’s anything I know how to do, it’s blog. Yes? Right?
Kee-rist, I hope so.
I’ll be cloistered in what I presume will be a sweltering tent backstage with the rest of the media, for approximately ten hours, in formal dress, balancing a laptop and a camera, attempting to keep the snark from creeping into my posts as the hours pass, and, hopefully, I’ll be able to report back to y’all exactly what the experience is like when I get home at the end of the night–provided I’m not carried out of the place in a stretcher after collapsing when I misidentify the chick who does those Shoe Pavilion commercials for the gal who played Ray’s wife on Everybody Loves Raymond.
Heading out now to by some Naturalizer pumps. I don’t think they’ll let me wear my fabulously comfortable Burning Man desert platform boots.
The celebs I’m most excited about seeing…? See photo.