Okay. Let’s dream. Let’s say you scored yourself two tickets to the Oscars. You get the limo, the fine clothes, the “accessories” - but only for the night.
So you’re walking down that red carpet, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with Joan Rivers and her babbling offspring.
Who is on your arm?
Who would be your escort, your date?
Would you bring your mom? Your dad? Some distant relative to whom you’ve been recently wed?
Or would you bring your spouse? Significant other?
Okay, now what if you have no close friends or family? Think, think. There must be someone you can take. Let’s look at some possible criteria:
Must look good all dressied up. Male has to look smashing in a tux, female has to look elegant in a dress.
Must be personable - you don’t want the paparazzi thinking you’re a dud! You want to project, project, project. Smile!
Must have the right attitude. You want someone who’s happy to be there, right? Who’s gonna have fun?
Now let’s limit your potential companion to someone on the SDMB. Who would it be?
Ooooh, I’m on the arms of two handsome escorts! I’ll wear my ice-blue satin Dior for Otto, and the burgundy bias-cut velvet Vionnet for Twickster. Jewels borrowed from Harry Winston, of course. Hair in a French chignon, and glaring-through lorgnette by Dumont’s of Hollywood.
Well, I certainly can’t and won’t disagree with the choice of Eve. I made my choice based on the fact that I’ve already met Opal, and I’m sure we’d have a grand time.
Now, ask yourselves which Doper you’d take to the Tonys (the most dignified of awards ceremonies). Me, of course, future breakout Broadway composer and enfant terrible. And big fag.
I was actually thinking, while watching part of the Academy Awards for the first time in many years, “Wouldn’t it be great to watch this in an intimate setting with Eve and maybe a couple of others, sipping sophisticated jokes and cracking wise?”
Then I saw another thread in which she avows she doesn’t watch anymore. And now I see I am too late in claiming her for my own. Drat it all!
In my defense I’m sure I look stunning in black tie.
Not that anyone would want to, but I’d be very much pleased NOT to be asked. I can’t sit through the damn things on TV without a remote - I’d probably start spraying a hail of bullets around if I had to endure the whole thing in person.
Not that we have to pair off as though we’re boarding the ark, but I’m female, and always looking for an opportunity to wear a tiara – so, whaddya say, Eve, how 'bout we double date with Otto and Ilsa_Lund? Governor Quinn and Cervaise can get their own damn limo.
