Is this thing on?

I think it’s time to get back to business here. It’s going to take a Costco pack of Swiffer cloths and a gallon of Pledge to get the dust off this thing. Be right(ish) back.

A Major Award

Ah yes, time for my semi-annual revisiting of this blog. I blame facebook and twitter. Not for any specific reason, but it seems like the thing to do. Oh, and that darn MTV.

So, why the urge today? The Emmys. I have some things to say about them that don’t fit into 140 characters or a facebook status that won’t aggravate my friends, many of whom I’ve actually met.

I should start by saying that I do generally enjoy awards shows. I like seeing people all dressed up, because I am a lady. But more than that, there’s a part of me that gets genuinely excited for people when they’re nominated and when they win. I assume it’s the actor part of me, possibly hoping that one day that could be me waking up at 4am to watch the guy from that one workplace sitcom and the woman from that legal drama read my name among the list of nominees, followed immediately by hundreds of phone calls that I will assign my staff members to answer, at least the ones who aren’t busy coddling my eggs.

But here’s the phenomenon that’s been happening since…well, I don’t really know, but I’ve been noticing it the past couple of years. It’s become a given that a comedian will host pretty much any awards show that has a host. This makes sense, since they are entertaining and have the added benefit of knowing how to handle any surprises or glitches that may arise along the way. And of course, any awards show will open with a montage devoted to the medium and that year’s nominees, and this montage will also be humorous (at least in intention).

But these days (classic old person intro), we’ve got announcers making up “hilarious” facts about the winners as they approach the podium, bits where the host calls out people in the audience in classic stand-up style, and red carpet coverage on E! starting around lunchtime so that we get to hear how many layers of Spanx someone is wearing and how many millions of dollars of borrowed jewels are gracing the necks of the guest star of episode 6 of How I Met Two And a Half Mad Men. There are constant shots of stars backstage pretending to dead-lift Emmy statues. Most presentations include at least one exchange of “I thought I was reading this part” or some other off-script addition that makes you realize these actors aren’t BS’ing when they say that they’d be nowhere without writers.

And you know what? All this is fine and dandy, if this is the direction they want to go. If you want to “humanize” these untouchable stars, and if these stars want to seem down-to-earth and accessible, so be it. But, if you want to take this route, then I’m just not gonna buy it when the winner of Best Actress in a Miniseries, Non-British, steps up the mic and blubbers about what an honor it is.

I love it when the entertainment industry is self-aware. Several times during the Emmy broadcast last night there were jokes about how mediocre television can be. They called out how ridiculous it is that they take themselves so seriously, but then…they take themselves so seriously. Making a joke about it doesn’t excuse it, but then again, does it really need to be excused?

I guess my point is, go big or go home. Either have the big awards show extravaganza with fancy clothes and tearful acceptance speeches, or poke fun of yourselves like an introspective Friars Club roast and show up in your jeggings and Uggs.

Side note (sort of): I did enjoy the comedy women going up on stage, pageant style. Until it got a standing ovation. Again, we had a moment of (planned) spontaneity, something that made the evening less staged and stuffy, but then everyone was on their feet, applauding this as if they were winning a Nobel Prize (never having attended a Nobel Prize ceremony, I can only assume there are a lot of standing ovations).

Second side note: Spanx lines. Are we supposed to think that the horizontal ridge across most actress’ tummies are sculpted abs?

Third side note: Girl from Modern Family, if you are of the age to wear braces, I’d rather not see your cleavage.

Fourth and final side note: Guys singing during In Memoriam: great left-hand gesture work, and impressive “fooled ya/hallelujah” rhyme.


Not to get all Andy Rooney on you, but why is it so challenging for people to RSVP for things? If you don’t RSVP for something upon receipt of an invitation, I am forced to believe one of three things:

1. You are waiting on tentative plans that would conflict with the party. (Acceptable)

2. You are waiting to check with your spouse/loved one/rent-a-date to see if they are available. (Acceptable for one day)

3. You are waiting to see if something better comes up. (Unacceptable you jag)

But whatever your reason, there’s no excuse not to RSVP by the deadline given on the invitation. Do I really have to hunt you down? It’s not like I’m trying to collect back taxes from you or serve you with a subpoena. I’m throwing a party and inviting you! That’s a nice thing. Sheesh.

Molly’s LA Party Planning Tips:

*Invite twice the number of people that you want to attend, knowing that 75% will say they are coming but a third of those people will “catch that thing that’s going around” or “suddenly have to work” seconds before the party. You will find this out from a text message at some point during your party.

*Make or buy half the amount of food you would expect your number of attendees (based on equation above) to eat. The exception to this is Coke Zero, which will be pillaged from the back recesses of your fridge if you don’t set out enough.

*Set your start time 90 minutes ahead of when you actually would like guests to start arriving. And despite the fact that you have given people your address and apartment number, expect phone calls and texts requesting reiteration of this information throughout the first two hours of your party.

I had previously thought that it wasn’t just an LA thing and that society in general has lost touch with party etiquette. Then last week I was in Dallas for my sister’s wedding shower, which I helped plan. It started at 2:00. At 1:57 guests started arriving. At 2:03 a guest arrived and apologized for being late.

Okay, that’s enough of being an old fart for one day. Happy holidays!

Barking up the Wrong Tree

Every so often I like to crack open Redbook magazine to see what’s happening in the world. And by every so often, I mean every 3,000 miles, when I’m sitting in the Jiffy Lube waiting area. From the 20 or so minutes I devote to Redbook ever three months, I’ve discerned that it is essentially Cosmo for married women.

In the December 2010 issue, there’s half a page devoted to things readers do keep their marriages fun or something like that. Like, say, high five-ing each other a lot (real example). Or like the woman who explains that she and her husband really want a dog but their building doesn’t allow them, so every day when she comes home he comes to the door on all fours, barks, jumps up on her and licks her face.

Yeah. Not everything is for sharing.

Looking for Catalog Living?

Hello and welcome, new visitors. This is the site for my personal blog, which I assure you is devastatingly entertaining, but if you happen to be looking for Catalog Living, allow me to direct you “here”: