Awards season is upon us again, and the annual dilemma of ‘would pulling a sickie the Monday after the Oscars be too obvious or could I get away with it’ comes up again. Sadly, the answer is always the same – yup, they’ll know. yeah, you’ll make it through with a lot of coffee.
Either way, ended up on spending six hours on a bus this weekend which post two movies meant catching up on girly mags leftover on the next seat.
As it is that time of year, they had included an intriguing mini-feature on the life behind the scenes of an awards show. Everything from Diva meltdowns to people getting fired because the close up during the thank-you-lot speech showed too much botox. Oooh really!
I will admit that for all the glam and hype I don’t envy the guys on the receiving end of all that. Don’t get me wrong, put me on a movie set and I’ll happily suffer through that and much more, but for a red carpet and swanky eve of tears and golden mini men? Unless I get to stand near it and oogle said mini man for a significant amount of time, well, no…