The Hangover This Morning Had A Personality*

Last night, CBS brought us the 48th (??) Annual Grammy Awards, my yearly exercise in drinking games (think of God and Mama), almost witty yet strangely irrelevant commentary, and prognostication. With my Rolling Stone Guide to the Grammys in one hand and a nice cold Southpaw in the other, I observed the ant farm. This year was a little bit of a disappointment – even Mariah dressed decently! But I have a few leftover observations:


Madonna! Honey, you’re at an age where support hose will soon be more than some kind of freaky fashion statement. Don’t try to make capris out of them. And give Farrah Fawcett back her hairstyle.

Coldplay. Chris Martin didn’t drool this year, but he skipped through the audience, around the stage, and did some interpretative dancing while wearing assorted bandaids and Gwyneth’s maternity jeans. Study those Stones tapes harder Chris! Mick combs his hair and his pants fit.

Kelly Clarkson, thank you! Until you came on to sing that annoying song, everyone was dressed reasonably. But you, you punk rebel you! You took a page from the Scarlett O’Hara Book of Dress Design. Getting your grandma’s housecoat and shredding it to ribbons! Inspired! And when you won, not one mention of that blight on the American entertainment landscape. Edgy!


Paul McCartney. Yawn. I think we use the same hair color. His performance was frustrating for me. I can’t think of anything bad to say about it, but I think he’s an abysmal human being. Don’t buy his record.

And speaking of hair color, should Gwen still be hitting the peroxide? She looks fabulous anyway. And way more pregnant than I thought she was. I’m glad she wasn’t wearing the Harajuku shoes.

Note to Keef: not only is Johnny Depp stealing your look, Steven Tyler is too. Get your beads and baubles down to the Patent Office, stat!

U2. Why don’t Larry and Adam ever speak? Will this album EVER go away?

Michael Buble. Michael Buble. Michael Buble. That’s just fun to say, isn’t it?




John Legend is, to borrow my nemesis’ favorite adjective, HOT. .

*thanks, Elvis.