I’m watching the Grammys. A few thoughts:
- Is it a poor reflection on me as a person that I want to punch Taylor Swift in the mouth, like, every time I see her? Her constant look of wonderment looks like a giant put-on to me. Also? When she loses, she looks like a pissed off, spoiled child.
- Is it also a poor reflection on me as a person that while I’m sorry about Whitney Houston, I’m also disgusted by the “OMG, Whitney, nooooo!” hullabaloo? If so, I’m also guessing it’s a poor reflection on me that I’ve been hollering, “Bobbaaaaaaaaaaye!” a la Maya Rudolph and laughing maniacally for the last 24 hours? I am so, so funny.
- I am super pumped that My Celebrity Boyfriend Dave Grohl and the Foo Fighters a) kicked ass in their performance (like we expected anything else) and b) won some Grammy love. However, my distaste for Ryan Seacrest is compounded due to the fact that the Grammy folk cut off Dave’s acceptance speech to introduce Seacrest. Not Seacrest’s fault, but it just seems like he was somehow responsible. Perhaps he and Taylor Swift have an evil partnership to destroy American culture.
- I am old. I don’t know 80% of the music. However, based on this broadcast, I’m not missing much.
- I can’t believe Chris Brown has a career. He has not beaten any women during the live performance … yet. At least not on stage. Backstage? Probably, yes. Several.
- Bruce Springsteen and Dave Grohl make me both hopeful and sad. I’m pretty sure that neither of them would stand for some smarmy Corporate Behemoth VP telling them that they can’t fix a problem on their team unless they “show some passion” for their work. If I were a touch more rock ‘n’ roll, maybe I would tell him to kiss my ass. I would also wear jeans and leather at all times. And maybe I wouldn’t be overwhelmed with sadness on a Sunday night over the prospect of going back to work tomorrow morning.