One thing you can say about the Golden Globes last night: they sure went a lot faster. An hour total, and since I Tivoed it I could fast forward, reducing it to even less than that. They just read the nominees, then announced the winner, bam! bam! bam! And was it just me, or were there a LOT of upsets, especially in the TV category? I mean, Californication and David Duchovny both won, as did Mad Men (a show that’s supposed to be great, but I never watch) and one of the leads on it. And I’d never even heard of the show that Samantha Morton won for in the TV best supporting actress category. Then again, I have been a bit out of the loop lately. But still. Here’s hoping that the strike is resolved by Oscar time, or at least they get a waiver and are able to put on the show. It’s just much more fun when you can see the winners react, plus the red carpet and the fashion dos and don’ts. A little glitz is nice, once in awhile.
Speaking of glitz, guess who’s coming to Raleigh—just a skip and a jump down the road from me—in a couple of weeks? That’s right: BARRY MANILOW. I mean, hello! I saw this in the paper yesterday and got seriously excited….until I realized that Sasha still needs me to go to sleep at night, and I seriously doubt even Barry Manilow does a show early enough for me to get home by 8:30, when bath and bedtime prep begin. Sigh. I love, love, love me some Manilow, and now I am finally old and square enough to admit it. I have probably written here before about how I went to see him in concert about fifteen (?) years ago, give or take, with a bunch of my friends from the restaurant. He was playing at this outdoor pavilion, in the middle of summer, and it was HOT. But off we went. We were some of the youngest folks there, and had lawn tickets, but we were so enthusiastic someone from Barry’s organization came along and gave us real tickets right up front. Like, the first row. I was freaking out. I remember sitting there with my friend Karen, staring up at Barry, holding our lighters (it was still light out, but whatever) during “Mandy.” At one point, during “Copacabana,” Barry put on little frilly sleeves and danced around. I am not joking. Also, he made this joke: “Great weather, Raleigh. If you’re a sponge!” We laughed louder than anyone. We were insanely excited, shrieking like crazy, and I remember Barry’s bass player, who was about our age, kept looking down at me and Karen like, “Jesus, get a life.” Not that we cared. It was so, so fun.
God, I would love to go again, I really would. Maybe I could just take the baby? You’re never too young for a little Manilow. Oh, who am I kidding, it probably just isn’t happening. Maybe he’ll come through again, in another fifteen years? Then I can drag Sasha, when she’s a surly teenager, and embarrass her completely. THAT will be fun.