My night at the Golden Globes

You know what today is, don't you?

Today is my Superbowl Sunday....my Indy 500....my World Cup...my NBA finals...my Master's Tournament (and the fact that I am not a sports nut should only add to the significance of this).

Today is Golden Globe day.

If you should know anything of importance about me - other than the fact that I can touch the tip of my nose with my tongue and that I prefer a perfect mix of Absolut and Absolut Mandrin instead of just straight Absolut in my Cosmopolitans - it's that I'm an Awards show junkie.  It's true. If you're a long suffering loyal reader of this little blog, you may remember me mentioning it in this post, where I reviewed the Emmy Award's fashion disasters (anyone want to lay bets of who shows up in neon tonight?).

And if you didn't read it, then or just now, I will be happy to remind you that in my hierarchy of award shows, the Golden Globes take the top spot. 

Easily.

A room full of every A-list movie and television star drinking and schmoozing and looking all sorts of glamourous? Unimaginable. 

Unimaginable, but since I'm actually just trying to kill time right now until the E! channel starts any sort of decent coverage, I'm gonna give it a shot...and imagine it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(cue wavy lines filling your computer screen as you are taken into my imagination)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wearing a jaw-dropping dress reminiscent of Jessica Alba circa 2012...

...I'd hit the red carpet early enough to not have stupid B-list celebrities crowding me and stepping on my train (*cough*Madonna*cough*)...but not too early to appear eager and overexcited (*cough*MileyCyrus*cough).

I'd stop by and chat with Ryan or Giuliana for a bit and of course my favorite Bachelor pimp, Chris Harrison, but would avoid Carson Daly because...well, he's Carson Daly. 

Once inside, I'd go straight to the restroom and hide out in a stall for awhile and eavesdrop. Can you imagine the wealth of knowledge you'd glean from 20 minutes in that bathroom? Probably enough to finally understand just how all those unbelievably tiny celebrities fit into those ridiculously tight dresses. 

I'd make sure and take my seat at my table well before the show started, so I could enjoy a glass of champagne while chatting up my table mates:

And yes, I realize the tables are not large enough to hold both the casts of Modern Family and HIMYM, but since this is my fantasy I'm going with it...

During commercial breaks I'd definitely stand up and introduce myself to the heavy-hitters, all the while remaining cool as a cucumber and not at all drunk from the free flowing Moet I've been downing like kool-aid (again, my fantasy = my reality).

When the cast of Modern Family (my new BFFs) win for Best Comedy and the camera cuts to our table, I'll be standing and clapping enthusiastically (but not so much as to appear stalkerish. That would be weird) as they all stop to hug me, one by one, before taking the stage to accept their award. 

By the time the show is over, I will have exchanged digits with the Jennifers (Garner, Lawrence and Aniston), taken selfies with the cast of Homeland, and accepted an invitation to summer at Clooney's Lake Como villa in Italy.  I will have to leave right away, though, as the party being held in honor of Tina Fey and Amy Poehler cannot start without me. Obviously.

The next day I will awaken in my suite at the Four Seasons to find myself on both UsWeekly and People magazine's Best Dressed lists, and Hugh Jackman serving me breakfast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But for now, it's nearing time for me to plant my butt firmly on my comfy chair and turn on E! for the Red Carpet arrivals and interviews, take notes on the ugly dresses for my recap post (check back tomorrow afternoon) and get my snacks and cocktails readied for the big show.

Will I be imagining myself there?

You better believe it.