Golden Globes

NANCY: GREETINGS EVERYONE FROM THE EXCITING GOLDEN GLOBES NEWSCAST STUDIO DESK THING! I AM NANCY O'DELL AND THE DUDE WITH THE STEEL WOOL SHRUBBERY COMING OUT OF HIS HEAD IS BILLY BUSH! HOW APPROPRIATE! HA HA HA HA HA!

BILLY: Well, now, Nancy, I think I look really sharp. Whereas your arms are different color than the rest of you by, like, a LOT.

NANCY: AT LEAST I DON'T LOOK LIKE A FULLER BRUSH SALESMAN DID MY HAIR!

BILLY: It really IS uncanny, actually, how much of a different color they are. Are you in costume as a color spectrum?

NANCY: ARE YOU IN COSTUME AS SOMETHING I CAN USE TO SCRUB MY TILE GROUT? WHEE! IT'S ALL FUN TONIGHT AT THE SUPERAWESOMEWICKEDCOOL GOLDEN GLOBES STANDING-UP PARTY AND READING OF NAMES!

BILLY: Let's stop insulting each other and do that thing we planned where we read the winner's name, and then talk about how we totally didn't think that person was going to win AT ALL, because it's going to be totally organic and real and not at all awkward when we do that. And then maybe we can totally mix up all our facts, like we don't cover this freaking industry every day of our lives or anything!

NANCY: YES LET'S FIRE UP THE FUN GUN AND SHOOT OURSELVES WITH IT BILLY!!!!! BUT FIRST I NEED TO CLEAN MY FINGERNAILS ON YOUR HAIR.

BILLY: Oh, Nancy, you are fierce. Give Willy Wonka my best.

NANCY: WOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We love to see a girl with a soap background make good. It's especially important to us now, with all those actors on Passions about to be unemployed come August because the show was just cancelled, pouring into the market a stellar group of people who are experienced at acting opposite and/or as zombies, sinister sheds, the floating head of Adrian Zmed, talking candles, kidnappers masquerading as clowns, a living doll, and a witch who is beholden to the devil's minions living in her basement. Come on, Hollywood, scoop them up and give them a future someplace else. Or, if nothing else, The CW is probably desperate enough to pay Galen Gering to take off his shirt every week. They could give him his own show, and call it -- I'm just spitballing here -- Galen Gering Takes Off His Shirt. And each time someone new could show up to sit around and be shirtless with him while a random object in his "apartment" becomes possessed by a demonic force and starts hissing warnings at them. I'd watch.

At any rate, let's stop digressing: We were happy to see Sharon Leal, who was on Guiding Light ages ago, show up on the big screen in Dreamgirls as (spoiler!) The One Who Replaces Jennifer Hudson. She's a lovely girl and she's got pipes, and we hope this leads to more opportunities for her.

Including opportunities to put this behind her.

Methinks something is trying to liberate itself. Every which way Sharon stood, that side of her dress sagged dangerously and her right breast seemed ever more ready to run for the border. We appreciate a breast's desire not to be pinched, as this one appears to be (somewhat painfully, I might add), but once the boob is inside a couture gown on a red carpet, it kind of needs to suck it up and stay put. We don't think it ever actually did pop out, but this is a perfect example of why you should never commit to a strapless gown without first waving your arms around, jumping, stretching, and otherwise making a fool of yourself in front of a mirror to ensure that everything still stays where it should.

Never let it be said that Paris Hilton is not resourceful:

Why, she made this entire dress herself, out of tin foil!

Oh, Renee. You've been in the cocoon of work for months and months now, and this is how you emerge? Wrapped in a shapeless green sheath that hits you at the wrong point on your leg, wearing your signature puffy, pursed-lip smirk and generally looking like you are allergic to fun? Sigh. What are we going to do with you?

Personally, I think you need a sandwich, a tailor, and a good lay, possibly in that order. But maybe a good belly laugh would do the trick with significantly less effort. Just try something, okay?

As many nits as there were to pick at the Golden Globes, there were a lot of people who looked glorious. And in the spirit of karma, I've decided to spotlight a few of them. Although it might just be the soothing back rub Intern George just gave me; he does put a girl in a good mood.

Let's start with Sara Ramirez from Grey's Anatomy.

In addition to being a Tony-winning performer who held her own in that original star-studded Spamalot cast (check out "The Song That Goes Like This"; it's funny, and she's got a great voice), she is also, in my opinion, really wonderful and tough and funny on Grey's. And here, she looks like an old-time movie star, utterly glamorous in ruby-red with a sweetly feminine coif. (See, Cameron Diaz? It's possible to wear red lipstick and not look like a five-year old smeared it on for you.)

It's also refreshing to see her working a real woman's body. Forgive me if this is a pale retread of Jessica's America Ferrera entry of yesterday, which was brilliant, but the point bears repeating: Remember on Ally McBeal, when all the actresses skinnied up because they had to go to work every day with Calista Flockhart and it made them insecure? Well, the Grey's set has so far avoided such catastrophes, with Chandra Wilson and Ramirez (and to a degree Kate Walsh and Katherine Heigl) balancing out the very tiny Sandra Oh and Ellen Pompeo. I dearly hope none of them start emaciating themselves in a McBeal vein; in an interview, Ramirez once admitted that it was hard for her to watch the show in the early days because she felt she looked hulking, and that the underwear-dancing scene was a challenge to shoot for that reason -- and so she hired a trainer and has felt better about herself. And that's great and all, as long as it's for her health and not because she thinks it's required of her by the viewers or anyone else. Because Ramirez has been smoking hot from day one on that show, and she doesn't need to change a thing.

Another stunner who got almost no attention on any of the red carpet shows: Edie Falco.

Presenting An IM from GFY HQ:

HEATHER: Oh dear, Rinko Kikuchi.

JESSICA: It's like she's mocking us.

HEATHER: She DOES seem to be having a good time.

JESSICA: I know it's couture Chanel....

HEATHER: I know that I want to use it to apply my astringent.

JESSICA: I know that it reminds me of dust bunnies.

HEATHER: I know that I'm relieved she's not wearing spats.

JESSICA: I know that we probably both want her shoes.

HEATHER: Shoes are the great uniter.

JESSICA: Thank god for them.

EDDIE: Just look suave, Eddie, just look suave. If you act cool enough they won't even remember you have another one of those fat-suit movies coming out in a few weeks.

JENNIFER: Wow, my hair really DOES look good this way. And I'm so glad I chose this navy dress -- I have to say, I feel pretty hot right now.

BEYONCE: Yeah, fine, smile it up, TV bitch - let's just all remember who only held back on her singing voice because they MADE her, because she was TOO FIERCE for her role. Was it you? NO. Was it the From Justin To Kelly chick? NO. Was it that other bitch? NO. CHECK IT, hos, it was ME.

JAMIE: Man, Hudson looks fine. Almost as fine as I do, although nobody could outfox the Foxx. Miss B over there must be pissed-- she looks so Las Vegas that her dress even has its own coin slot up there. HAHAHAHAHA, oh, Foxxy, you've still got the funny, baby!

JENNIFER: I hope Beyonce isn't mad at me.

BEYONCE: No, I'm serious, hos, are you checking it? You'd BEST. Because I can't believe I am playing second fiddle to some bitch Paula Abdul dug up out of obscurity. Seriously. The claws are coming OUT. And so is her HAIR.

JENNIFER: I also hope Beyonce doesn't try and pull out my hair. She keeps accidentally touching it and she looks kind of like she's plotting something. I can't help it that I have a great stylist and she just has her mother. I didn't do that to her.

BEYONCE: It is ALL HER FAULT that I didn't win. Lady, I could sing circles around your ass, and Simon Cowell would CRY and Randy Jackson would be all, "You're doing your thing, dog, and that thing is KICKING SERIOUS ASS," and Paula would go, "If I ordered a pizza right now they'd deliver it to Montana because that was so good you almost made me want to eat some mascara and there are rainbows here and where am I? Are you my mother?" ...

EDDIE: I wonder if they'll burn the print of my next movie if I pay them enough money.

BEYONCE: ...and then Simon would be all, "What Paula is trying to say is that you are perfection, and you're the best there has ever been and I don't need to see any more," and then they'd CANCEL THE SHOW because there was no way they could do better and THAT is how I would WIN American Idol, you sad little runner-up, you.

EDDIE: No, really. I don't want to be all Queen Latifah here, winning a major award and then having a craptravaganza like Taxi coming out right afterward. But at least I look smooth. What the hell was Beyonce thinking? If we hang her from the ballroom ceiling they can turn off all the other lights and have a real cheap electric bill.

JENNIFER: Oh, well, I'll just try not to think about Beyonce. After all, I've never felt this good about myself in my life. Seriously, I think I deserve to be very proud of myself.

BEYONCE: Ohh, yes, just get ready, you humble little trophy hound, you. It's COMING.

JAMIE: DANG, bitches, I'm glad I took my shades off -- I'll get a better view of the catfight this way. Come on, let's see some clawing and spanking. Y'all can mess up my tux if it means I see some girl-on-girl without having to go back to my hotel room first. Let's get it ON.

JENNIFER: Although... I really should remember to get that restraining order ready.

There are many things I like about America Ferrera. For one thing, I think she's adorable on Ugly Betty, in a role that could too easily be cloying, or sad-sack-y.  I loved her in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, not that I saw that, or cried at it. And I love that she's probably the only actress her age in Hollywood currently sporting her own hair, breasts and teeth.

I also love her in this dress:

The color and the cut are both really good on her: they flatter her skin tone and her body without being boring. She looks tall and curvy. Which, by the way, I don't mean as a Euphemism For Fat. I hate the fact that "curvy" now means, in Secret Hollywood Patois, "tubby." For example, according to Star Magazine, Jessica Alba recently said to a journalist, "I know I'm curvy. I'm working on it." Fast-forward to Jessica Alba dropping ten pounds she didn't need to drop. CURVY IS GOOD, PEOPLE.  Curvy is sexy and feminine, not Marlon-Brando-In-A- MuuMuu-Fat. Women -- all women: naturally very thin women, naturally not so thin women, flat-chested women, big-breasted women, ALL WOMEN -- have, as we learned from America's debut film, some curves of some size somewhere on their body.  IT'S OKAY.

I was thinking about this yesterday (in between trying to figure out what our government should do about Darfur and meditating on the existence of God in the 21st century, obviously), and I came to the conclusion that I seriously think America is so freaking cute and fresh-faced, and her body looks GREAT here, and therefore, I really hate the idea that at some point, she is going to drop twenty pounds and start Mystic-Tanning the shit out of herself, just because someone told her she had to do that to be considered for more mainstream roles. Because you KNOW someone is going to do that. Because, as you may have noticed, as a rule, certain people in Hollywood tend to have their heads up their asses regarding the subject of How All Women Are Supposed To Look In Order To Be Considered Sexy.  When, really, America shouldn't do a thing: as Mark Darcy said to Bridget Jones, we like her very much. Just as she is.

Which, for the record, is adorable in a perfectly-tailored purpley/navy number.

This is about as much collective joy as I've ever seen on the faces of perenially pouty Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. Aside from being thrilled she remembered her black tube top to wear under her turn-of-the-century PTA party gown, I suspect Ashley is mostly excited that with her new hair, she bears enough of a resemblance to the pretty but generic Kristin Cavallari that she can reignite her acting career by playing the Cavallari's little sister in something really classy, like, National Lampoon's Dick Orgy: Campus Private Eye.

Whereas Mary-Kate is just grateful that she's upgraded from mail-order bride to society madam.

Undeniably, Katharine McPhee is a stunner. And now that she's working some leg muscle, she's done a good job picking edgy minidresses with plunging necklines that show off her new figure. Take this one, for example, from the American Music Awards earlier this year:

It's a tough dress to carry, but she's glowing in it. She looks happy and sexy and young, and I would really like to know what witch doctor she's going to for that thick, shiny hair, because I am totally up for turning over my tresses to the dark arts. Even if it means mixing the hair of a spider, the toe of a chicken, and Essence of Newt in my Le Creuset and sticking my head in it.

At a Golden Globes afterparty, though, Katharine decided to change up her look. Which I can understand -- there's only so many short skirts and deep vees you can wear in a row before people start to wonder if you're just dying the same one a different color -- except that I don't like the direction in which she went: upwards.