OK, so here's the deal.
I'll be updating as much as I can throughout the night---I'll be typing away during commercial breaks, since my computer is not in my living room.
I'm not too worried about typos until the whole thing's over, at which point I'll edit as much as I can, but for the meantime, I'm going for speed more than accuracy. In that way, it's a lot like a typical date for me.
I’m starting here, at 5:30 pm, making Pizzeria Uno’s Pizza Skins at home. According to the box, I need to cook these bad boys for 45 minutes before I enjoy them. It’s also clearly marked, in about a dozen places on the box, to make sure these are not below 165 degrees upon consumption. OK, when I go the actual restaurant, I get these things in 10 minutes, without the warnings consistent with when you eat blowfish. So, should I be “extremely impressed” or “scared for my existence” at this time difference? Does Pizzeria Uno’s have nuclear-powered stoves or something? Are they wielding cookery of mass destruction? Someone, quick, get Ridge on this.
Also, for the record, I've got "between 8:23 pm and 8:46 pm" in the office pool for "first really weird use of the phrase 'shake it like a Polaroid picture', most likely by someone like Pat Boone".
The fun starts at 7. Well, Joan Rivers starts at 7. So maybe the fun starts at 8. Then again, given the extremely long delay between the actual awards and the broadcast, who knows when they will start. I've got Pop Rocks and Pixie Sticks for us all, though. Don't worry, it'll be OK. So long as like, Prince doesn't perform or something.
*reads list of artists who are performing*
Ok, screw it. We're all in a lot of trouble.
(Update: Yea, in serious trouble. All done though for now. Whew. We made it.)
***
6:07 pm: Whoa, The Rivers are already broadcasting on E! This is way too early to be there. My guess is that Joan’s been there since like, 10 am and didn’t notice there wasn’t a camera. She’s just been talking for the past 8 hours to Harvey the Rabbit, and the crew got there, felt bad for her, and started early.
6:08 pm: Melissa Rivers may have the greatest “I Can’t Believe This Is My Mother” face ever.
6:09 pm: OK, Joan Rivers is breaking down the list of people she’s looking forward to seeing, including Cher, Barbara Streisand, OutKast, and Johnny Cash. Melissa reminds her mother that Cash is dead. I’m praying that this isn’t a comedy skit and in fact Joan just being Joan, but the scary thing is, you never can tell.
6:11 pm: Wow. That didn’t take long. Melissa dropped the “Polaroid picture” line already. There goes $20 of my hard-earned cash. Back to turning tricks for me down by the docks.
6:13 pm: I gotta go with "cameraman for these Rivers segments" for my pick for "worst job on network television". I wonder if this person's on drugs now. If not, where can I send some to put him/her out of there misery?
6:16 pm: Yesterday, Beyonce, Alicia Keys, and Missy Elliot announced they were going on tour together. My suggestions for the tour name: "Fallin' Crazy in Love for a One Minute Man" or "A Woman's Worth: $75 plus $5.95 Handling Charge Through Ticketmaster".
6:20 pm: OK, every time that I go back to the TV, E! is cutting to commercial, because Joan is absolutely insane. She kept mentioning her Mercedes Benz over and over again, saying it each time louder and louder, until finally bellowing at someone off camera, "Oh, who cares if the Nazis make it?" I can't even make this stuff up, people.
6:21 pm: Somewhere on the red carpet, someone's just showed up with Joan's meds. And Melissa's crying in a corner, stroking her hair uncontrollably, saying, "There's no place like home...no place like home...cuz that's where Mommy lives, and I'll never use wire hangers again, I promise." At least, that's what I assume is going on right now.
6:28 pm: Joan’s interviewing Evanescence. Camera pans to the group, and they look terrified of Joan. Man, that's gotta be a blow to their Goth fan base. Hard to seem mysterious and evil when your leaders are afraid of Joan Rivers.
6:31 pm: I just figured out Joan’s dress. Imagine if Big Bird had sex with a single-serve of old-school Jiffy Pop. Voila. That jacket.
6:35 pm: Joan’s interviewing Fountains of Wayne. Seriously, did Melissa just skip town or something? Where did she go? Maybe she bought a rifle and is looking for the nearest book depository?
6:37 pm: OK, turning down the volume now, gonna make up my own dialogue. Ha, she’s asking them about the cultural implications of sheet metal. That Joan. What a silly lady.
6:41 pm: Joan just asked Eugene Levy what he’s doing there, just as the E! graphic announces his nomination for “Best Song from a Film”. Just classic. Joan, read your freakin’ teleprompter! Is it too much to ask for a little research here?
6:43 pm: I’m thinking Eugene and Al Franken would make a kick-ass WWE tag team. They could pull that whole “switch up the partners without the ref knowing it” better than the Basham Brothers.
6:47 pm: I would be no small amount of money that Joan hasn’t a clue who Paulina Rubio is. Maybe Joan thinks she’s a Nazi. Hey, why not?
6:48 pm: This whole “hit Mute and invent dialogue” thing is working wonders with Ms. Rubio. Wow, she’s a saucy minx, I’ll tell ya. Well, I would, but she’s making me blush, and I don’t want the FCC cracking down and putting my blog on a time delay.
6:51 pm: Here's $10, I'm giving it to the first person who sweeps Joan's leg, Cobra Kai-style.
6:55 pm: OK, obviously that whole ban on cloning didn't really happen, since, so near as I can tell, four of Hugh Hefner's seven girlfriends are Paris Hilton. And none of them actually talked on camera. Enough to make C+C Music Factory go, "Hmmmm." As opposed to what they normally say these days, which is, "Would you like to super size that order?"
6:58 pm: Hey, look, it's Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. What? Oh, that's Matchbox 20! Holy crap they are short. Or that guy interviewing them is monstrous. Or standing on a box. Or standing on Melissa. (Seriously, someone call LAPD and find her.)
7:00 pm: So what's it say when Joan can stand next to Bootsy Collins and Buckethead and not look the least bit out of place?
7:01 pm: Quote of the Night so far, courtesy of Bootsy: "You gotta give the funk to get the funk." Is he talking about music or VD?
7:04 pm: Whew, we have a Melissa sighting! I'm oddly relieved. She's talking with the guy who put together all the gift bags for this year's Grammys presenters.
7:05 pm: Some of the contents of the bag: universal remote, walking shoes, blenders, treasure map, the head of a Komodo dragon, and their very own illegal immigrant laborer.
7:06 pm: Oh hell, Joan just cut off her daughter to talk to Kelly Clarkson. I think I see Justin Guarini too...in a tux serving people shrimp scampi.
7:11 pm: In my "mute" dialogue, Dave Matthews is asking Joan to take a hit off of his gravity bong. You then hear Melissa from off-camera scream, "Kill the harpy! Chop off her head! Down with the she-devil!"
7:13 pm: Patti Labelle's graciously stepped up and filled the "Aretha Franklin Shock and Awe Cleavage" duty for this year. Mazel tov, Patti.
7:15 pm: OK, I'm heterosexual. Just clarifying that up front. That being said, Sting's one hot piece of ass. Seriously, the brother looks like he's in his "Dream of the Blue Turtles" phase again, and that was something like 20 years ago. Amazing. He's at least 75 years old, by my account, and yet, well, there you have it. He ages like Aragorn. Or Dick Clark. Or Dick Clark if he were heir to the throne of Gondor. (OK, I'm stopping, promise.) He's the hottest person to appear on camera yet. Well, like, besides Buckethead.
7:18 pm: My friend just instant messaged me: "You would so rock a skirt." Well, perhaps, but if I walk in the wrong neighborhood, I might be pummeled with rocks for rockin' a skirt. Just sayin'.
7:21 pm: OK, Joan's with the Osbournes. Two things. One, by now, someone should have told Joan to let the guest speak into the microphone if we actually want to hear them. Secondly, the entire family has that "Our Best, Most Lucrative Years Are Behind Us Already" face on. That's almost sad, if they weren't say a gazillion dollars richer than me already. They are on the red carpet, and I'm in flanel pajamas. And no, I'm not the least bit bitter.
7:27 pm: JC Chasez is being interviewed by Joan, fresh off being kicked out of the Pro Bowl halftime show. The NFL kicked him off in light of the furor over the JJ Nipplegate, but really, couldn't they have justified his removal by saying, "Um, we realized we had booked JC, and that was really, really dumb. Thank God Janet's a ho otherwise we woulda been screwed."
7:31 pm: Looks like Homeland Security's slipped up again: who let the dude from Creed in?
7:35 pm: OH THANK GOD. The Sherab Ling Monastery won for best traditional world music album. Said Tenam Lama: "We're just very thankful Norah Jones wasn't up for any awards this year, that award-hogging hussy."
7:38 pm: Pharrell Williams: "Brooke Burke, I just wanna squeeze yo' waist!" Heh. I'm stealing that line when I go out bar hopping this week. I'm even gonna call them Brooke Burke. It'll help counteract my inability to remember names.
7:41 pm: Somewhere near the red carpet, Melissa Rivers is continuing her investigation into the contents of the Grammys bags, unaware that she's been off-air for close to 40 minutes.
7:42 pm: Good lord, the show hasn't even started yet, and I already hate music. I picked a bad week to quit using speed.
7:47 pm: I just saw a picture of Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson talking. That "thud" you just heard is our species' collective intelligence sinking like a stone. I think I need to sit down. Oh wait, I am sitting down.
7:49 pm: I can't even begin to imagine what transpired at the Hilton/Simpson summit. "I like breathing." "Oh my god, me TOO!" "I'm hot. "Oh my god, ME TOO!" Quick, someone, come over and take away my steak knives.
7:54 pm: OK, I'm not Kyan from "Queer Eye", but even I know Paula Abdul's highlight job is terrible.
7:58 pm: I'm having visions of Andre 300 shakin' Joan like a Polaroid picture until he shakes all the Botox out of her and she melts like the Wicked Witch of the West. Hey, I'm just being honest.
8:00 pm: Whew, the show's finally started. And look, the Mars Rover landed. Oh wait, that's just Prince's set. Nevermind.
8:02 pm: So lemmee get this straight: the producers figured the best way to start off a show honoring the last year in music is to have a medley of pre-1985 Prince hits? Huh?
8:03 pm: Why is Beyonce up there? Maybe she's about to win a Grammy. let's see how many times the "artist performs, then instantly wins a Grammy" phenomenon happens.
8:04 pm: This is all a bit like watching Ike and Tina, only in this case, Tina could whup Ike whenever she felt like it. Seriously, Prince is so short, he could be in Matchbox 20.
8:06 pm: OK, wouldn't it be shorter for the Grammys to tell us who isn't there? This is ridiculous. Although, as my friend just pointed out, "At least we know Richard Marx is still alive." So that's a plus, I guess.
8:08 pm: Quentin Tarantino: "That performance was THE BOMB." Quentin's next movie? "Kill the Scriptwriters: Volume One".
8:10 pm: Wow, shocker. Beyonce won a Grammy. Wow. I'm stunned. *yawn*
8:13 pm: OK, so we have a Dave Matthews/Vince Gill/Pharrell Williams/Sting supergroup covering "I Saw Her Standing There". Wonder if this supergroup idea will be a theme. I'm nominating George Clinton, Yo Yo Ma, and Lance Bass to do "I Am The Walrus" right here and now.
8:18 pm: Queen Latifah introduced Xtina Aguilera. Heh. I'd bet my income they don't let her sing "Dirrty".
8:20 pm: Quick! Wadrobe! A badger up and died on her head! What? That's her new hairdo? Oh. Um. Nevermind. I mean, yes, I heard the song. She's beautiful in every single way. My words can't bring her down. Yea, got it. But...OK, fine. Mouth shut.
8:22 pm: OK, so it seems like she made a bet with someone backstage: "What? I SO CAN sing 874 notes per bar! Bring it? Oh, it's already been broughten!" This is terrible.
8:25 pm: I'm not sure if Xtina or the smoke machine is taking center stage right now. To quote Mystery Science Theatre 3000: "You know, the movie 'The Fog' didn't have this much fog."
8:26 pm: The award's now for "Best Pop Duo or Group". Hrm. This throws a monkey wrench into my theory. However, I'm confidant Xtina can pull off the victory. I have history on my side. (Oops, No Doubt. Nevermind. History's a total skank.)
8:28 pm: Here's Beck, introducing The White Stripes. Ya know, when my band makes its first really big national appearance, I'm gonna make sure I don't get my sound compared to "dead cell phones and oil cans."
8:30 pm: Meg White is Sofia Coppola-hot. She doesn't immediately strike you as hot, but then you realize she is, and then you realize she might actually kill you in bed.
8:32 pm: OK, Jack White's a guitar god. He's shredding that instrument. You can feel CBS trying to keep up, and that it can't. Finally, something good.
8:34 pm: OH NO! Joe Perry's BLIND! What? Oh, just stylish sunglasses. What about the cane? Stylish too? Oh. Rock stars are weird.
8:37 pm: That was weird. Outkast wins Best Rap Album, then the cameras can't find the goup, then only Andre comes up, says, "Thank you," and gets the hell off the stage. I wonder if Big Boi was responsible for that big Xtina Cloud of Doom. Hmm...
8:48 pm: Oh, you know they did a clothing check on the two female introducers for Justin's Grammy win. You know it. You won't say it, but I will. Like Kevin Spacey in "American Beauty", I rule.
8:50 pm: The girl from Evanescence just did this great, instinctive "arm across her chest" move when Justin came near her. Poor Justin. Actually, not poor Justin. Janet's at home, and he's up winning a Grammy. Lucky Justin.
8:55 pm: OK, Patti, it's great that you know Luther Vandross and all, but this segment isn't about you, you attention hussy. It's about him.
8:56 pm: Whoa. Did Alicia Keys go to the same hair stylist as Xtina?
8:58 pm: Damn all these tasteful production numbers. I can't make fun of these. I require explosions and hos and, if possible, exploding hos. All of these can I work with.
9:01: Patti Labelle: "Here's Celine 'Talented' Dion." Huh. Funny. Thought her middle name was "Canadian Hellspawn, Put Upon This Earth To Spread Hate and Malice."
9:02 pm: Apparently the sound guys were thrown too, since we get about a minute of what sounds like the air traffic control tower at Logan Airport.
9:05 pm: Best part of the segment: camera pans to the crowd after the Luther tribute, and everyone is clapping, except Prince. Dude. Feel lucky they even remembered who you were, you ungrateful git. The man had a stroke. It wouldn't kill you, O "Artist Formerly Known as Relevant".
9:10 pm: Sting's playing "Roxanne" for the 456,000,000th time. I'm hoping he completely loses it halfway through, stops the band, says, "I'm never playing this song again," and then rips into "Straight Outta Compton". That would completely rule.
9:12 pm: Well, it's now the Sean Paul-augmented version of "Roxanne", better known as the "No One Ever Asked For This Version, and Really, Is Humanity Really and Truly Better For It, I Think Not" Megamix.
9:14 pm: Sting has this great, angry, "Why are you still singing, your part of the song is over" look going towards Sean Paul.
9:16 pm: Huh. What's up with the Phone Sex lady doing the intros for the "Best Female Pop" category? Um, not that I know what that would sound like.
9:18 pm: Xtina stands. She giggles. She jiggles. And, somewhere, the FCC nearly has a heart attack.
9:19 pm: Xtina thanks songwriter Linda Perry. The camera shows Ms. Perry. Horrified by what it sees, CBS instantly goes back to Xtina. Good to know it's about the music and not the looks. Sheesh.
9:23 pm: Sarah Jessica Parker: "We're not even halfway through the show!" For the love of God, don't remind me.
9:24 pm: Justin's now onstage, at an electric piano, playing "Senorita". Hmmm. Has there been a dance number yet? Or any full body shots yet? Nope, don't think so. The FCC and the Grammys would like to remind all Americans that genitals don't exist and that babies come from storks.
9:27 pm: OK, I missed the trumpeter's name, but he's great. I'm seeing a trend tonight---musicians who don't normally play together uniting under a common threead of musicality. And no matter what comes between us, we'll always have music. (That and Justin Timberlake's mom's enormous breasts which CBS is showing every 8.4 seconds. Man, this ain't right.)
9:29 pm: And lo, that theory is smashed to bits as the Beatles and their widows accept the President's Medal individually. Oh well. It was nice for about 87 minutes, I suppose.
9:33 pm: "Coming up next: The Black Eyed Peas eat a baby live onstage!" OK, they didn't say that, but I'd rather see that than a performance of "Where is the Love?"
9:38 pm: Well, I don't see any babies, so I guess we're gonna hear the song. And whoa, who's the freaky "Matrix"-esque dude in the group? He's giving me the creeps. Someone tell him the Oracle is calling and get him off my TV.
9:40 pm: My friend just said, "OK, I don't know where the love is, but I know where the 'Mute' button is." They all seem nice enough, I just don't like this song. Oh well. To each his/her own. And my own wants a beer right about now.
9:45 pm: I gotta say, “Dark Side of the Moon” is one of the most perfectly recorded albums ever. Each time I listen to it on a pair of headphones, I hear something new. I gotta say all this because I don't know a thing about country music and so have nothing to actually say about the Best Country Female Artist category.
9:52 pm: Cuba Gooding Jr. : "Good evening. First off: I'm really, really sorry about 'Boat Trip'." Well, that's what he SHOULD have said.
9:53 pm: Props to Beyonce for sucking it up and having the "performance involving an elaborate set, cast, and costumes that really have nothing to do with the song and aren't utilized and instead serve to show how wasted money can be" of this year. You're a team player, Beyonce.
9:55 pm: So what was the audition like to be an extra in this bit? "So, do I get to dance?" "Um, no." "Move?" "Not really." "Breathe?" "We're hoping to minimize that as much as possible as well."
9:56 pm: I'm betting somewhere in America right now, the other members of "Destiny's Child" are saying to themselves, "Oh, f#ck."
9:57 pm: Fear Beyonce, ladies and gentleman. Not only can she sing, write, and produce, but she can control the thoughts and actions of animals. Let's just cede her land right now and print money with her picture on it. Resistance is futile.
10:00 pm: Well, Evanescence's streak of luck just ended, with their winning of the "Best New Artist" award. 50 Cent proved he's not the in the club, he's just in a bad mood. Maybe 50 will shoot Evanescence. That would be OK, since that would be violence, not nudity, so the FCC shouldn't mind. Nope, he didn't shoot them, just sorta moseyed on through. Bye, Evanescense. Enjoy your work. Here's Men at Work's home number: ask them what happens now. But I don't think you're gonna like it.
10:07 pm: Hey, when did Malcolm Jamal-Warner join Earth, Wind and Fire?
10:09 pm: I don't know about you, but I'm guessing that, to this day, "Water" is pissed that he was kicked out of the group.
10:11 pm: OK, whatever Samuel L. Jackson is on, order me a case. I'm gonna need his energy to make it through this show.
10:15 pm: Props to Robert Randolph for having his name on his guitar, since I'm sure I'm one of millions who didn't know who the hell he was.
10:17 pm: Whoa, anyone else think George Clinton was gonna up and die climbing those stairs? The Church of the Funk almost ended on national television. He nearly turned this carotid artery out.
10:21 pm: Who wants the funk? Not the white people in the front row, who want nothing else except for the scary old guy to back off, and like, now.
10:30 pm: OK, just took a cortisone shot, think I can make it through the next hour. I'm feeling a bit like Frodo on Mt. Doom. I can't remember the taste of strawberriess, or the sound of water, or the feel of grass. There's nothing between me and the wheel of fire. And yea, I just saw "Return of the King" again yesterday, why do you ask?
10:36 pm: Coldplay just endorsed John Kerry. Somewhere on the campaign trail, after being told of the endorsement, John Kerry just asked, "What the f@ck is a cold play?"
10:41 pm: Oh lookie, Sarah McLachlan. Or as I like to call her, "The Best Ammo 'People Who Think Artists Only Create Good Art When Miserable' Have". Oh, you hateful aliens who kidnapped her after "Fumbling Towards Ectasy", please return her. This replacement version is terrible.
10:54 pm: OK, when I die, I'm not sure I want applause. And yes, I know the applause is a sign of respect, but it's still a little weird. At my funeral, I want many things. Just not applause. Things say, such as, I dunno, a parade of women, who each come before my coffin and declare, with tears in their eyes, that they'll never again meet half the lovin' hunk of man that I was as long as they shall walk upon the earth. You know, for instance.
10:58 pm: I don't wanna make light of the Zevon tribute, but here's clearly a case where he meant more inside the industry than outside. Don't mean to demean the choice, I'm just saying that's how it came across. But it's their show, they'll do what they want to, I suppose. Tastefully done, though i could feel the crowd try to care about a man whom many had maybe never even heard of until he died. A shame, but there you have it.
11:11 pm: My favorite part of the show, "Neil Portnow Gets His Britches in a Twist About Digital Music". He tries to make us feel bad for not buying a $19 CD through the worst PSA ever. It features a real fun, energetic, crowded party. Then, it shows how a girl, alone in her room, through the downloading of music, shuts down the party. Um. Yea. That'll teach all those kids who sit at home because they're not cool to not download music. What the hell? If I was a nerd, who wasn't cool, but knew a lot about computers, I would think that more downloading would in fact ensure that the cool kids were miserable too. That's it, I'm reloading Kazaa onto my computer and shutting down an all-night rave on Landsdowne. Thank you, Neil Portnow, for giving me the strength and resolve to fight the good fight.
11:14 pm: Let's all take a collective breath and forget we all just realized that Carole King is wearing a strapless bra. We'll be a better nation for it.
11:16 pm: Actually, quit praying. Richard Marx just won a freakin' Grammy. The apocalypse is nigh. Abandon all hope. Wherever you go, whatever you do, Mephistopheles will be right there waiting for you.
11:18 pm: OK, I don't know Richard Marx all that well, so I can't read the look in his eye. He's either gonna pull a Gollum and smash Luther's agent over the head with a Grammy, declaring both trophies his precious, or he's about to come out as Luther's lover.
11:21 pm: Sweet, "Hey Ya!" You know, if Native American women looked that good in the day, the Pilgrims woulda reconsidered that whole "take over their land" business, I imagine.
11:24 pm: Hey, lookie, a marching band. This reminds me a bit of Fleetwood Mac's "Tusk", only I don't think Lindsey Buckingham could pull off Andre 3000's current outfit. Christie McVie could, though, I'd wager.
11:28 pm: I dunno, I mean, I like "Speakerboxxx/The Love Below" and such; I'm just not sure it's Album of the Year. I'm just saying that the Sherab Ling Monastery got rooked, that's all.
11:31 pm: It's over. It's really, really over. Right? Please? *collapses*
Postscript: Too tired to do any more work on this tonite. I have this, like, "job" in the morning that helps "pay" for things such as "rent" and "food". Hopefully, though, you can enjoy this nonetheless for now. Cheers and such. Would love to get any and all thoughts on the show below.