And the Emmy goes to...

Not the Emmys, that's for sure.

Good freaking Whomever that was dull.

Take five lame hosts, add many, many equally lame non-comedy bits, and even Ricky Gervais can't stop the train wreck.

Not that he didn't come close, mind.

Seeing that I watch more for the outfits than the awards, I really could have stopped watching after the red carpet.

Speaking of which...

Marcia Cross was wearing a faded doily over a 1950s prom dress, Rita Wilson was wearing... well, what the hell was she wearing... Oprah Winfrey (who, and this may surprise those who seem to think she can do no wrong, annoys the snot out of me) dressed in the dark, Kristen Chenoweth has cleavage (who knew? Well, all of us do now), Julia Louis-Dreyfus' cleavage was crooked (too bad. Nice dress, otherwise. Someone should have told her to adjust), January Jones forgot to put on her dress and showed up in her lingerie, Jennifer Love Hewitt had her hair done via tornado, and Eva Longoria Parker just simply looked like crap.

That was my take, anyway.

As for the guys, all I can say -- and I've said this before -- is that long ties with tuxes do NOT count as evening dress. Bow ties, people. It's the only time they don't look dorky. And Wayne Brady? Next time, at least get a tie. You host a fricking game show. You are not smooth enough to get away with the open shirt thing.

There. I'm done. If I sound cranky, it's just because my brain decided that there are more fun things to do than sleep last night. Yeah, I know that's not unusual for me, but last night I really tried to do everything properly before I went to bed. And I was tired anyway. There should have been no excuses.

Stupid brain.

Stupid boring award shows that I always end up watching.






I should end this on a more positive note, I guess.

Let's see...

Um...

Ok, I've got one. Yay Mad Men. That was actually pretty cool.

I'm going to go feed the salamanders now.