The MTV Movie Awards. The “secondi piatti” in our pop culture meaningless awards show diet. When I found out I would be heading to LA to cover the red carpet and then see the show live, I steam cleaned my cleav crack, found the sluttiest Vegas showgirl dress in my wardrobe from my Off-Broadway stint in Indecent Proposal 2: How Much? That’s All? Fine., and pulled out a pair of heels lest there be any celebrity fetishists in my midst. The MTV Movie Awards were no joke1. And I… I would be there.
Delusions of heavenly celebrity grandeur were quickly diminished once members of the press (Yes, I am one. No, I know.) were filed out onto the red carpet in the boiling hot sun, something I hadn’t planned for in Los Angeles, California, because I don’t have a PhD in “The Most Obvious Things.” Now, a major thank you to MTV Press for hooking me up with a spot on the carpet, sandwiched between the lovely people at VH1 News and BET.2 And a bigger thank you to AJ, who hooked me up with some coffee and a small bag of Goldfish brand crackers that would eventually be given to Snoop Dogg. (True story.)
That being said, within 10 minutes of standing outside in the boiling heat, I looked like this:
Thankfully, the lovely Michael of Popbytes had a small bottle of sunscreen he was willing to share with me, which I then liberally shmeared all over my body while making not work appropriate sounds of ecstasy. SPFFs 4VR.
2 hours and 9 heatstrokes later… the celebrities arrived! And oh, how much fun we had:
- Me screaming at: Zac Efron (gorgeous), Peter Facinelli (gooorgeous), Shaun White (abs), and Lindsay Lohan (who did like her ankle bracelet and SCRAMmed).
- In a bid to get Mark Wahlberg to talk to me, I screamed “Mark! I’m a Boston native!!! Are you going to turn down a Boston native?!” Now, we all know this is not true. But, I did get a trademarked Mark Wahlberg smile and point, so all was not lost.
- Sandwiched between other interviewers, I was “forced” to stand a mere 2 inches away from one of BWE.tv’s Hottest Silver Foxes Dr. Drew Pinsky. This was truly my best sighting/interview of the day. (Video evidence to follow.)
- Johnny Weir putting his angel face in my bosom. This is a thing that happened. Most funny internet friend Claire Zulkey messaged to say “I think you might be technically pregnant now.” To which I responded, “I just peed on a diamond and it turned into a butterfly so I think you’re right.”
- Omarion and his brother O’Ryan, being the most charming people in the universe.
- T.I., whose smile is officially the most wondrous thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. It needs to be on a pulpit in the Vatican.
Wait a sec. Watching the video would probably be easier:
But enough red carpet tidbits! There is video footage of that below. No, it’s showtime. 6 PM Pacific time. I hustled my sequined as doing a high-heeled tiny foot into the theater. And the set. The set! It was 9 Imaxes wide, 50 Cloverfields high, and very, very busy. It was staggering. Glorious. I don’t know who designed this set, but it’s safe to say this person, male or female, has either a microscopic or an uber-gigandy penis.
The show was hosted by comedian Aziz Ansari, who reunited with the beloved Human Giant cast for one of the night highlights, a little video called Stunt Kidz.
The other highlight, obviously, was Tom Cruise rapping and dancing as Les Grossman, his Tropic Thunder alter-ego. Yes, my rods and cones have witnessed this funstrosity live and in person, though to be fair my seat was so far away that for a good 3 minutes I thought he had been dancing with Beyonce and not Jennifer Lopez.
Then there was the totally unplanned make-out between Sandra Bullock, wearing shoes with a built in mini-stage, and Scarlett Johansson. My ears are still ringing from the sonic boom of applause received by Sandra, followed by primal shrieks of lust for Rob Pattinson and Betty White. (Side-note: Feelin’ R Pattz’ new hairstyle.)
Halfway through the show, during a well-timed red wine break, I peeked outside of the theater to see worker bees putting together the after-party. A party which I did not possess a ticket for. A party which I had to attend in order to feel better about myself as a person. (That last sentence is California’s official motto, by the way.)
This called for some I Love Lucy-like tactics. I found an outdoor smoking nook that was momentarily unguarded, and snuck past the rope. Technically, I was already in the party. Albeit 20 minutes early. Yes, while the Movie Awards were going on inside, I was perched on a concrete block next to some discarded ottomans biding my time, trying to avoid guards. The one guard who DID see me quipped “Enjoying the show from back here?” to which I responded “Best seat I could get!” We laughed while invisi-sweat poured down the side of my face out of fear.
Gratefully, no one booted me out of my little hidey hole, so when the party started, I was able to waltz right on in, directly in front of throngs of rejected party people looking in enviously. “Pft, commoners” I thought, as I brushed concrete powder off the back of my dress from sitting on a pillar for 20 minutes.
The party was worth the wait. Tons of food stretching in every direction, a morsel of which I did not touch because, hello, what if I ran into someone I knew and I was eating? “No thank you” I thought as I publicly reached into the top of my dress to reperk my breasts up.
Highlight for me personally was running into Ronnie and Sammi “Sweetheart” from Jersey Shore, dressed to the nines, in great moods. This is an exact transcript:
Me: “Guys! You inspired me. I went to a tanning bed on Friday to prepare for the show.”
Ronnie: “Don’t go to tanning beds!! You gotta get sprayed!”
Me: “Spray tanned? I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of someone spray tanning my area.” (Circling hand around area.)
Sammi “Sweetheart”: “What? No I don’t like that either. They have machines that do it! Use the spray machines!”
Me: “I am constantly learning from you.”
Everyone: Laughter.
No, but really, you guys, they’re so nice. I will always side with them in a bar fight, let it be known.
As the party wore down, rumors swirled that Aziz and Tom Cruise were hosting parties at the Soho House, while Katy Perry hosted an after-party at Las Palmas. Someone asked whether I’d be going. As someone who had to sneak in to what I am now considering the pre-party to the “real” after-parties, the answer was no. No, I’m not going to stand in the lobby of the Soho House to claw my way up into a party where I’d know nearly no one to stand around and drink and stare. I would have to be on the list to do all of those things, because I have class.
That being said, the day was INCREDIBLY fun. I met some fine people from the MTV LA office, mingled with local characters, and managed to turn my Eastern European whiteface into a more sultry navy red. MTV, you spoil me. I thank you.
1Reverse JK.
2Things eventually got confusing on the carpet when the lot of us were shuffled over a few inches, placing me in front of the BET News sign. Many confused looks, like “Why is this giant white girl working for BET?” Thankfully, the gentleman sent over by BET was actually black, which cleared up some confusion. However, believe me, if BET were to hire a giant white girl, it would be me.
