Oscar Roundup ’09
For the first time in eight years, I watched the Academy Awards live from a vantage point away from the Kodak Theatre. And now I remember why so many attendees spend most of the night at the bar– that is one boring show. Some thoughts on the Oscars:
– Judging by Reese Witherspoon’s black eyes and ragged dress, it appears that Chris Brown already has a new girlfriend.
–I wonder who wore the sheet with the higher thread count: Jessica Biel or Tilda Swinton. I hope they were smart enough to bring along the matching pillows to use during the terminally long telecast.
–Halle Berry, on the other hand, knows the Oscars is not a time for comfort and, as always, was the best dressed.
–Jennifer Aniston gets her big moment in the spotlight at the Academy Awards introducing a clip and the camera cuts to Angelina Jolie. I’m starting to wonder if Aniston gave everybody in Hollywood Herpes and that’s why they all seem to hate her so much.
–I loved it when Steve Martin stopped in the middle of introducing a clip and randomly said to Tina Fey, “DON’T…fall in love with me.”
–I also got a kick out of Ben Stiller’s impersonation of Joaquin Phoenix’s recent whackjob appearance on David Letterman. I was a little surprised there weren’t any Christian Bale references.
–The Japanese Oscar recipients gave the most entertaining acceptance speeches of the night. It’s about time somebody gave Mr. Roboto his props.
–After hearing so many winners talk about growing up in foreign countries never imagining they’d one day come to the United States and win an Oscar, I wondered if any American kids will one day realize their dream of answering tech support calls in India.
–Let me get this straight, Sean Penn can joke, “”You commie, homo-loving, sons of guns,” and not get bleeped but if somebody utters a friendly “Fuckin’ A this rules,” 10 guys are jumping for the censor button? Not that I have a problem with Penn’s comment, I’ll just never understand our society’s stupid animosity toward four letter words. I was bummed to miss the Mickey Rourke freak show but I liked Penn’s speech. There’s something particularly hot about a straight man speaking passionately in support of gay rights.
Oscar Picks ’09
I had a change of plans and won’t be returning to the Oscars this year but I did watch all of the Best Picture nominees (clocking in at a total of almost 11 hours) so of course I have to weigh in. I haven’t given away any spoilers so it’s safe to read if you haven’t seen the films.
Slumdog Millionaire: Since I tend to be disappointed by films with too much hype, I decided to start with the favorite just to get it out of the way. The story unfolds like a grim Forrest Gump, in which the extraordinary events of a young man’s past provide him with the answers on the Indian version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. Two hours later the credits roll with a strange little dance number (which, odd as it was, managed to be infinitely more entertaining than the horrific singing and dancing in the worst movie I saw all year, Mama Mia).
My philosophy is that the Best Picture stands alone, that without seeing any other films you know that’s the Best Picture. Occasionally there are two films in a year that deserve that honor, other years there are none. And it didn’t take long to realize this was the Best Picture of 2008. It’s a moving story that’s so well done I can’t even make my usual snarky comments. Go see it.
Frost/Nixon: Next up on my movie schedule was Frost/Nixon, which depicts the long interviews David Frost conducted with Richard Nixon after he left office in disgrace. Oops– I just gave away all the good parts. A movie about two dudes talking is just as riveting as it sounds and I have no idea how this ended up as a Best Picture nominee. The only thing that kept my attention was hoping that on one of his entries into the interview house, Nixon would be shot by someone on the grassy knoll who would put an end to the misery. I would have liked for this nomination to have been replaced by the clever indie, In Bruges.
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button: I’d heard plenty of cracks about how long and boring this movie is and when I saw the 2:43 run time, I was prepared for a snoozefest. If I’d seen it in a theatre I’d probably agree with the critics but I had a screener so I was able to watch it in chunks and I thought it was great. This is a Best Picture. It’s a shame it wasn’t a contender in last year’s weak race because I’m sure it would have won but I think Slumdog Millionaire is slightly superior and should take the Oscar.
The movie is about a man who ages backwards– the same premise that was attempted over 20 years ago when Mork and Mindy gave birth to a bouncing baby Jonathan Winters. This time around there are fewer rainbow suspenders and old men in diapers to ruin the story. My only real criticism of the movie is that toward the end, Button’s mind/body correlation seem to get confused and I don’t think it properly shows someone with a lifetime of experience trapped in a child’s body. Brad Pitt’s Best Actor nomination was a given for whoever played the part and since he didn’t do anything spectacular with the role, I think he’ll just have to settle for the Best Looking Couple Lifetime Achievement Award to be shared with Angelina.
Milk: After the beating the gay movement took in the elections, I’m GLAAD to see a gay-themed movie in the running for Best Picture but unfortunately this doesn’t have the chops to win. It’s the story of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man elected to public office in California, who was later (as opposed to previously) murdered. It’s interesting to know his story but I probably could have gleaned just as much insight and entertainment value from reading his Wikipedia page in five minutes as I did in watching the two hour film. Sean Penn does a good job as Milk and his Best Actor nomination is deserved but, without having seen The Wrestler, I’d still give the award to Mickey Rourke as a consolation for the facial disfigurement he suffered in an attempt to resurrect his career. Plus I suspect Rourke’s acceptance speech will be the most entertaining part of the Oscar telecast and I always have to root for the train wreck.
The Reader: Last up was The Reader. Kate Winslet stars as every teenage boy’s fantasy: a loose older woman who’s unencumbered by moral boundaries and that annoying edumecation stuff like reading (though, depending on some guys’ folicle preferences, they might wish she knew how to read the words “Mach III”). It’s a pretty good flick that I’d rate third among the nominees (after Slumdog and Button). Winslet is the favorite to win Best Actress but I’m not sold on her performance because I’m not sure if I was supposed to sympathize with her character or not. Is she a Nazi war criminal with a heart of gold? Or is she a sexual predator with a heart of gold? In fact, I’m not even certain she has a heart of gold but her nipples do make cameo appearances in almost every scene and I’m sure the male members of the Academy will want to see that rewarded so I expect her to take the prize.
I Worked The Oscars And All I Got Was Hep A
Ok, I don’t know that… YET. But as I was finishing up this recap, news reports started swirling that a prep cook with the company may have exposed people to the virus at a bunch of events earlier this month. When I filled out my Oscars paperwork a few weeks ago, I took with me a turkey sandwich and a salad- both of which fall into the category of raw food the employee supposedly handled. Information sent by the health department says there is only a two week window in which vaccinations for the virus can be given so I fall outside that window. But since the employee apparently did not prepare food for the Oscars, it strongly suggests to me that his or her condition was known prior to the event and we weren’t notified about this until yesterday. It makes me wonder if pre-Oscars publicity took precedence over public health concerns. Anyway, in light of all this it makes a food situation I wrote about later in this post even more ridiculous.
A long-ass post following a long-ass day working the Oscars. I was so exhausted afterward I needed two days to decompress but now the bitchfest shall commence…
Things got off to a bad start the day before when I pinched a nerve in my back. I’m pretty fortunate that I don’t experience ailments too often but when you throw out your back simply from putting on a shirt, you can’t help but feel old. For my 13-hour workday, I had to contort my body into all sorts of weird positions to compensate for my back, leaving my entire midsection so sore the next day I could barely move.
The first change this year was that they would not allow us to drive or walk into Hollywood and Highland so we had to park in a lot about a mile away and ride a shuttle over. So my seven minute walk turned into a 25 minute drive with a transfer. I figured they were really tightening up security this year but that theory flew out the window when I walked through the metal detector to enter the Kodak. Instead of the half-assed bag search they’ve done in the past, security didn’t even bother to open my big bag. Really, what’s the point of having metal detectors if they’re not even going to check the contents of large bags?
This was a particularly miserable Oscars to work and I have a lot of griping to do so here’s tangent #1… The uniform for the Oscars is always a white shirt, black tuxedo pants and black tie. No woman should ever be required to wear a tie. It’s just a horrible, horrible look. For that matter, I don’t think men should ever be required to wear a tie either. It’s a silly mindset adopted by millions that a tight knot around a man’s throat is somehow more professional than an open collar. The world should take notes from Hawaii where aloha shirts are the norm. A comfortable employee is a better employee. Then there’s the white shirt. I don’t know who the genius was who first decided that people handling food and drinks should wear white but I do know there have been countless idiots who followed who apparently think stains all over a white shirt is a good look. We hadn’t even boarded the shuttle to the Kodak and people were already comparing dirt marks. By the end of the shift we all looked like Keith Haring paintings. If you’re ever in line for a bartender who doesn’t have cranberry juice all over his or her sleeves, go to the one who does- I promise you, that’s a much faster bartender. And remember, the boss who makes his restaurant staff wear white is an idiot.
Back to the Oscars… When I arrived at the theatre I got a little bit of good news- it would be a cash bar again after the ceremony started. And a little bad news- no commemorative Diet Cokes. Then some bad news disguised as good- it would be a “green” Oscars, complete with flimsy recycled napkins and separate trash cans for recycling. My back already had me working at half speed, now I had to yell out every five minutes, “Hey Al, which trash can does the cardboard/plastic/dirty napkins go in?” I know newspapers and aluminum cans- everything else is trash to me. Then I got some suckier news- some guy came around and took away the bartenders’ Governors Ball pins (a great eBay item), saying that because we weren’t working the Governors Ball, we didn’t need them. Since the pins also function as our access pass, I asked the guy if we’d still be able to walk to other parts of the building and he assured me we would. Silly me, I still believe people actually know what they’re talking about. With two hours to kill, I decided to go outside and try to stretch out my back. The guard at door #1 told me that if I stepped even two feet outside, he couldn’t let me back in. So I figured I’d try the roof. I rode the elevator to the top, went outside and stretched for a bit. When I returned to hit the elevator call button, it occurred to me that the elevator had been operated manually by an usher. Would she think to check back on the chick who exited on the roof? No such luck. I scurried around the rooftop maze trying to find an entrance, wondering if one of the nearby snipers would take me down. The lame white shirt and black tie probably saved my life. I finally found a stairwell door that hadn’t been fully closed and made my way down to my bar. Half an hour I was gone and nobody even noticed. In retrospect, I kind of wish I’d just stayed up there the whole day.
The main drink sponsor for the event was Patron tequila and they gave us a list of drink specials to serve, one of which was to be garnished with a raspberry. So they gave us each a pack of moldy raspberries. When this was pointed out by the bartenders, we were instructed to “pick out the bad ones.” On closer inspection, I could see that they all had mold on them. While the other bartenders seemed satisfied with the semi-moldy berries they’d picked, I wasn’t and informed the distributor that I couldn’t serve those, that there was no picking out the bad ones because they were all bad. After some discussion, he finally relented, “Fine, the others can use raspberries and you can serve cherries.” I thought that had resolved the situation. Then a few minutes later a catering captain came over and asked, “What’s this about you not serving raspberries?” I showed him the raspberries and said there was no way I was serving any that had mold on them. He took a tone with me as if I was merely being difficult. For the record, I have nothing against raspberries. I’m not a card-carrying member of the “Say no to raspberries” campaign. But I wouldn’t server moldy food to a homeless person, much less to someone who could puke from it in front of 39 million viewers (unless it was George Dubya- I would totally do that). I told him if he could find some fresh berries I’d serve them but he said there weren’t any more. He then puffed up his chest and ordered, “You will serve raspberries.”
The whole fiasco was unbelievable to me. I don’t know what was more disturbing: the fact that he argued about it for even a second or the fact that at least five other bartenders were willing to serve food with visible mold on it! Has everybody gone mad??? Tangent #2 on the captain… management in the food and beverage industry work longer hours and make a lot less money than servers. So the people who get into management usually do it for the power trip. And this was a perfect example of someone more concerned with asserting his authority than asserting a little common sense. Well, despite the fact that there supposedly weren’t any more raspberries he somehow found a pack of fresh ones, which he handed to me as if I’d made some unreasonable request that he was forced to take care of. And for all that? I served exactly three of those drinks. If I work this next year, I hope the sponsor is Heineken.
Wrapping up my lovely day at the Academy Awards… At the end of the night, we were breaking down boxes and I learned that another bartender had worked at the same place where I had worked for several years. She, too, had been fired from the place and we compared stories. Tangent #3… I’ve joked before here about the fact that I’ve been fired from several jobs (four? five? I’ve lost count). Whatever the official reasons for my firings, at each of those places I’d had a history of butting heads with management, usually due to unfair or illegal business practices. At two of the establishments problems started at the first staff meeting I attended when I went to clock in. Both times I was told that the meetings were unpaid and I politely informed them that by law, we were to be paid for mandatory meetings. Bosses tend to get a little cranky when they discover they have to fork out hourly wages to 20-30 people. I say “discover” as if they didn’t already know they were required to do so. More accurate is that bosses tend to get a little cranky when they discover they’ve hired somebody who knows food and beverage industry laws inside and out (you learn that stuff the first time you get fired and want to stick it to them for every penny you can). There were always other issues like paycheck discrepancies, paying for customer walkouts, diversion of tips, etc. that nobody else would ever pipe up about so they were always left on my shoulders and that naturally made me unpopular with my superiors. Yes, sometimes I fight battles that aren’t worth fighting but that’s what I do when the little guy (usually me) is getting screwed.
So why do I mention all this? The day was finally done and we checked out with a manager on the first floor. We were then told we had to go to the fifth floor and wait in line to check out with someone else. From there, we would go back down to the first floor to catch a shuttle to the lot where we’d parked. Clearly, they had an excellent system in place. I checked out with the first guy at 11:40 then reached the second guy a few minutes later. Basically, it would be an extra 15 minutes at least from the first check out until I arrived at my car. I asked the second guy if our sign out time would include our travel to the parking lot, since that’s where we were required to meet. He gave me a “That’s ridiculous” smirk and said, “No.” I also saw that he’d signed me out at 11:40 pm even though it was then 11:45 and I asked him about that. He said our sign out time was the time we signed out with the first manager. WTF???
Some may say, “What’s 15 minutes?” I’ll tell you: to the employees who may be struggling to make ends meet, that’s an extra $10 in their pockets- enough to buy a stiff cocktail after a long day’s work, possibly even enough to pay for a Hepatitis A vaccine. To the company that had about 200 people working for them, that’s $2000 in wages so I’m sure it wasn’t merely an oversight that had us checking out at a different place from where we’d checked in. Regardless, it doesn’t matter to me if the difference is $100 or $1, any second an employee is doing something required by the company should be a paid second. I didn’t put up much of a protest though because I was exhausted and in pain and of course I wasn’t getting any support from all the other staff members within earshot so I let it go. I just hate it when the ones with the deep pockets are shady like that.
At the end of it all, I ended up with just two programs for eBay. I mentioned a few days ago that eBay is some sort of idiot bait and that goes for the sellers as well. I always get my Academy Awards items up quickly and they do some decent business until some fool comes along and puts up 10 of the same item with a starting bid of $.99. These aren’t newbies who do this either, they’re people with hundreds of eBay sales but apparently they just don’t grasp the nature of collectors items and the concept of bidding wars. Luckily they’re also dumb enough to make the auctions 7-day listings so their 10 items will probably pull in the same amount as my first one.
I don’t imagine anybody has even read this far- even I’m bored- but now that I’ve gotten it all off my chest I actually do feel a little better. Hollywood’s most glamorous night is anything but that from my end of the bar.
(Last year’s Academy Awards recaps)
The Second Annual Oscar Barkeep Awards
My Oscars recap just keeps getting longer and longer so I decided I’ll finish that later and get to what little good stuff I have to share on this year’s ceremony. So here it is,
Favorite Academy Awards bar quotes: “Can I just get tap water? I don’t have any money” and “Do you have Jessica Biel’s credit card?” I don’t know why, but for some reason that just sounded funny being asked that.
Best tipper: Steve Carrell (Diet Coke). BTW- he was accompanied by the woman who recently played his girlfriend on “The Office” (the one who broke up with him after he sent out a Christmas card in which he’d Photoshopped his face over her ex-husband’s on a ski trip with her and her two kids- I chuckle again just remembering it). Apparently she’s his real wife. They make a much better looking couple when he isn’t playing such a dufus.
Ghastliest outfit: Meryl Streep (gin tonic). She came to the bar just as we were shutting down for the start of the ceremony. We had to move to the front of the bar to turn away latecomers so I used the opportunity to get a close-up look. Her Flavor Flav-sized orange necklace appeared to be some sort of hideous junior high school shop class creation. I think the outfit was taffeta and looked like culottes. I guess when you’ve been nominated as many times as she has, you don’t mind going straight to the Oscars from Tae Kwan Do class. Runner up: Nicole Kidman. I mentioned previously that a few years ago I realized I’d entered with a bar knife in my bag and at the time thought, “I could stab Nicole Kidman right now if I wanted to.” I would have liked to have taken that knife to that goiter on her neck this year.
Thirstiest nominee: Clint Eastwood. Right after we closed his wife literally ran up to the bar begging for “A glass of champagne for Clint Eastwood.” I told her we were closed for the time being and I couldn’t serve anything (which is bartender code for “Show me a big bill.” She didn’t). But since it was Clint and since there happened to be a manager nearby I deferred to him. I think he walked away without giving her a “Hang on” and by the time he’d covertly arranged for a glass, they had disappeared inside.
Most in need of a sandwich: Cate Blanchett. She walked in with both hands hanging on to some woman’s arm, probably because she couldn’t hold herself up on her own. Runner up: Portia DeRossi (white wine). She looked great otherwise, but she was just skin and bones and stood with her shoulders so hunched over that even with my back pain (more on that later), I couldn’t help but stand up straighter every time I looked at her.
Biggest size surprise: Sascha Baron Cohen. The guy has to be at least 6’4″ (while his fiance probably can’t even ride the teacups at Disneyland).
Lobby sound alerts: Biggest gasp went to the supporting actor announcement, biggest cheers went to Scorsese (followed closely by Forest Whitaker and Jennifer Hudson), biggest silence went to Helen Mirren. I don’t think anybody even bothered to look up when the announcement was made. As attendees made their way from the theatre to the Governors Ball, Al Gore received a round of applause.
Wealthiest star working free drinks: Kirsten Dunst (Coke). Well, I don’t know if she was working it, she might have known the guy. But it sounded to me like he was gushing, then she sounded way too appreciative of a simple Coke then she threw out the “I have to get back to my seat” line. Excellent drink ‘em and ditch ‘em style on her part.
Oldest star who’s still got it: Faye Dunaway. The very long, very blond hair she was sporting was probably too young for her but it somehow worked and certainly got the attention of at least one much-younger guy who tried flirting with her.
Oldest star who may have lost it: Peter O’Toole who was sort of wandering around the end of the bar alone not long before the Best Actor announcement.
Biggest let-down: No George Clooney sightings- AGAIN. And I wasn’t the only one looking. One guy said he was on George Clooney alert for his wife. Now that’s a good husband.
(Last year’s Academy Awards recaps)
Year Five At The Oscars
Prior to last year’s Academy Awards I wondered if that would be the final one I’d work. Then I arrived at the Kodak to learn it was a cash bar and Diet Coke had made some commemorative bottles and right then I knew I’d do it again. Since we only served about six bottles of the 50+ cases we had, I saved a few from the trash dumpster and put them on eBay. I expected them to do well- maybe $25-40 for a six pack- but I was flabbergasted when the first few sold for upwards of $150 each. Yes, there are suckers who will pay more than $30 a bottle for soda simply because it has a special label on it. I don’t think the Oscar itself is even worth $150. I complain a lot about idiots but when I can profit from them, I’m all for them and eBay seems to be some sort of idiot bait. I managed to unload several more six-packs before Coke added the Academy Awards bottles to their little rewards program and people were able to acquire them for something like $2 and 20 bottle caps. I’m not expecting another perk like that to be available this year but I do have one case left that I’ll put back up on eBay in the hopes that there will be a few idiots who don’t notice they’re from 2006. I’m sure there will be.
I was over at Hollywood and Highland a few days ago and the red carpet was already laid out covered with plastic. The plastic had a bunch of bubbles in it that popped when you walked on it and I thought they should mix things up this year and leave it on for the ceremony. It would be pretty funny to see these stars talking to Joan Rivers: “Who are you wearing?” “Armani” pop pop pop. Naturally the tourists were salivating at walking on the carpet so I’m surprised the Kodak doesn’t charge people to do so. They already charge something like $15-20 for short tours of the theatre to the fools who don’t realize that for a couple bucks more, they could just see a show there. They could easily score 50 bucks a pop for walking on the carpet.
Being an Academy Awards bartender who hasn’t seen any of the nominated films, naturally I feel that makes me qualified to comment on the nominations:
I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow but hopefully I’ll get the Second Annual Oscar Barkeep Awards up in the next day or two.
(Last year’s Academy Awards recaps)
Things That Make You Go…Hummer
I stumbled upon an interesting quote from Sharon Stone, though I can’t find the original source so I don’t know how much (if any of it) is accurate. But I spotted it on a couple legitimate news sites so I’ll dish too:
I was in the store the other day and I watched a young girl trying on clothes, showing her abdomen.
Right there, already weird.
Her mother was trying to talk to her about not being inappropriately alluring. I said, ‘Gee that would look much nicer with a camisole under.’ Her mother walked away, and I said to the girl, ‘I’d like to give you a two-minute conversation about sex.’
This is the part that particularly makes me question if any of this is true. I don’t care how whacked you are, you don’t offer some random teenager sex advice. Besides, what could she possibly cover in just two minutes? “He’s in, he’s out, he’s gone, you’re crying. Get the camisole.”
Young people talk to me about what to do if they’re being pressed for sex.
I think Stone misinterpreted what she heard, which was, “Don’t pressure me into talking about sex. And get out of my dressing room, crazy lady.” I don’t care if she is a big movie star, young people don’t voluntarily ask a 48-year-old stranger for advice on sex, they ask their friend who’s two years older and been around the bases once.
I tell them (what I believe): oral sex is a hundred times safer than vaginal or anal sex.
I don’t know if a hundred times is an accurate number, but you’d think an AIDS activist like herself might throw out another alternative, like, oh, “Use a condom” or even, “Wait.” But you have to hand it to Stone, between her lesbian antics in Basic Instinct 2 and her promotion of oral sex, she sure knows how to build up her male fan base.
If you’re in a situation where you cannot get out of sex, offer something else.
Offer something else? What, like Skittles? I can only think of one situation in which a person “cannot get out of sex” and I have a tough time imagining someone saying, “I’m really not into this whole rape thing… how does a nice rim job sound?”
Maybe this is all an April Fool’s prank against Stone and if it is, I feel bad for her. I think the box office sales for Basic Instinct 2 is enough cruelty for one weekend.
Last Call From The Academy Awards Bartender
For the past four years I’ve bartended at the Academy Awards. This is the last of four posts about my experiences (part one, part two, part three)
This year’s Oscars did not get off to a good start for me. I’d had website problems the night before that kept me up way too late considering my 11am call time. Then my cell phone alarm didn’t go off and I woke up at 10:45! Granted, the time I’d set it for was only 15 minutes earlier, but that 15 minutes makes all the difference. It was somewhat of a miracle that I woke up on my own that early. I’d received about 10 emails stating that tardiness would not be tolerated but all I could do was walk to the Kodak as fast as possible.
I arrived red and sweaty to find nobody to check in with on the street. Security was once again lacking and I was allowed to walk into the parking garage simply because I was wearing a white shirt and black tuxedo pants (later, my large, full bag with many pockets was barely touched at the metal detector station).
I was afraid my late arrival would mean I’d be stuck on one of the upper level bars and I’d miss my destiny to share an Oscars moment with George Clooney. Fortunately, I landed my first floor location once again. The 11am start time for the 2pm doors and 3:30pm actual arrivals meant a lot of standing-around time in the beginning for us. My day perked up when I got behind the bar and learned of some great changes and additions. For one thing, the enormous magnum-sized champagne bottles had been replaced with regular-sized bottles. My arms were thankful. Also, Diet Coke had made special 8 oz bottles that said “78th Annual Academy Awards” on the back label. I could have sworn I read on the first bottle, “Sell me on eBay!” but maybe that was just in my head. The best change was that the bar switched from hosted to cash after the show started. I faked empathy to all the guests who complained about having to pay for drinks but inside it was “Cha Ching!” as the tips were more than double what we made from previous years’ hosted bars.
The lobby wasn’t as full during the show as in the past but the bar actually seemed busier even though we had four bartenders, up from three in the past. The event producers did all they could to discourage people from hanging out there all night. In addition to charging for drinks, the only large tv brought in was put in the Kodak Eastman room, which can only fit about 20 guests comfortably. The only other viewing options were the two wall-mounted lobby tv’s, which are only about 20 inches each. And they kept the volume off, which particularly sucked for me since I never had a chance to look up and see what was happening. Even still, when Jack Nicholson mouthed Crash as Best Picture there were loud gasps throughout the room.
After that, the guests filed out of the theatre and many headed upstairs to the Governors Ball while I still had several hours of breaking down to do (at the bar, not emotionally). My entire day at the Kodak lasted
I know a lot of people would kill to attend the Academy Awards but I have to say that it all strikes me as incredibly boring- even for the Hollywood insiders. I’m sure winning is great for the handful who do, but for the other 3400 people who attend the ceremony itself, it’s just a sedate business cocktail party like any other- though the clothing is much better. In all honesty, any night of karaoke is more entertaining than the Oscars.
But wait…what about George Clooney? I’m sad to report there was no George Clooney sighting by me or any bartenders this year. I recently read a quote in which he said he loved the Golden Globes for its open bar and that he imbibed quite a bit. I thought for sure that meant he’d be a regular at my bar so perhaps I should sue him for false advertising. Supposedly there is (was?) a People Magazine issue in which they made a list of the most important people at the Oscars and the bartender is listed at #22. Apparently the cover has George Clooney on it. It looks like that issue is the closest we’ll come to an Oscar connection. Sniff.
The First Annual (maybe) Oscar Barkeep Awards
Strangest celebrity sighting: Best Actor nominee Heath Ledger (champagne)- who arrived in the lobby unusually early- standing off to the side alone for awhile as his girlfriend chatted someone up. You would expect the acting nominees to be mobbed at every second.
Strangest celebrity sighting (honorable mention): Keanu Reeves. He didn’t do anything strange but why was he even there?
First real sign of enthusiasm I’ve witnessed during the Oscar pre-show: Nominee Amy Adams dancing what could only be described as a “jig” in the lobby. That sort of performance is amusing to see anywhere, but it’s particularly amusing to witness at the Academy Awards from a woman in a $3,000 ball gown.
Best way to handle Oscar disappointment: Hit the bar! That’s what Felicity Huffman (vodka tonic) and Paul Giamatti (not merlot) did within minutes of their respective acting losses. In fact, Giamatti made it to the bar so quickly, we hadn’t even reopened for business yet and had to tell him to wait. He consoled himself with some olives in the meantime.
Worst gown: Michelle Williams (champagne). I know many fashion critics have hailed it as one of the best but I thought it was awful. It was much orangier than it appears in the pictures and looked like it had a neckline made of cheap party streamers.
Biggest disappointment: The Governors Ball decor. For all my praise toward previous years’ decors, I thought it was tacky this year. Like last year, sections were on high platforms, which limited guests’ ability to scan the room from the floor. Everything was white with large crystals hanging from the ceiling. I think it was inspired by Krypton in the first Superman movie. There were lights that changed the room’s colors every few minutes from neon pink to blue. It looked like a garish South Beach nightclub, not the elegant Academy Awards.
Getting To The Academy Awards
For the last four years I’ve bartended at the Academy Awards and will do so again this year. This is part three of my experiences (Part one, part two)
One reason I think working the Academy Awards is a hassle is because it involves some pre-show effort on my part like going to one location to fill out paper work for the background check then another location to have my picture taken for an Academy Awards access pass.
Security for the Oscars is tight. They slide mirrors under all vehicles entering the garage then force you to clear one or two metal detectors before entering the building. Actually, the security looks tighter than it really is. Since I live around the corner from the Kodak Theatre, I just walk to the event but for some reason I’m not allowed to just walk into the building, I have to be in a car. So last year I just jumped in someone’s car and none of the security checked my credentials, nor did they examine my bag which was large enough to contain all kinds of dangerous materials. They did sift through my bag at the metal detector station but I later realized I got through with a decent sized knife. I remember thinking at the time, “I could stab Nicole Kidman right now if I wanted to.” Not that I have anything against Nicole Kidman (or that I’d stab anybody in couture, for that matter) it’s just one of those things that popped in my head when I discovered the security lapse.
Two years ago, I was lucky I even made it to the event. Due to some poor scheduling on my part, I was working at Laffs in Tucson up until the night before the Oscars. As soon as I finished my Saturday night late show set, I hit the road. All I wanted to do was get home as fast as possible so I could get a couple hours of sleep.
I stopped in Quartzite for gas and went into the bathroom to change into sweats and wash my face. As I was doing so, a woman walked into the restroom and asked me something, which I missed because of the running water. I said, “What?” And she mumbled it again. I still missed it so I was about to turn off the water when she said “Nevermind.”
I finished up then realized what she’d asked: “Is that your wallet there.” I figured this out because I knew I’d brought my little wallet in with me and no longer had it so I must have left it in the stall.
When she came out I said, “I just realized you were asking if I’d left my wallet in there. Yeah, I did.”
She said, “What wallet?”
I glanced inside the stall and sure enough, my wallet was gone.
I asked her to repeat what she asked me when she entered the stall and she said “Nothing.” I told her, “Look, I had my wallet when I went into the stall and now I don’t and I know you saw it and asked if that was mine.”
Little Miss Ghetto Bitch said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I rushed out to the convenience store to see if there was a security guard to assist. At 2 am in the morning, there were about six people in the store, but no security guard. I told the two employees what happened and asked them to call the police, which one did. In the meantime, I tried to block the exit but her husband, who looked like he’s no stranger to a police line-up, got in my face and started calling me names for suggesting his wife had my wallet. They left through another door and I ran out to my car to make absolutely certain my wallet wasn’t there, which it wasn’t. With no way to stop them, they drove off.
Here’s the lucky part of the situation: I’d been paid for the week’s shows in cash but because I was taking off immediately following my set, my purse was jam-packed and I couldn’t reach my wallet at the time so I put the cash in the side pocket of my purse. So there was only about eight dollars in the wallet when I brought it into the bathroom. If my week’s salary had been in there, I don’t know what I would have done. There’s no way I would have let her just take off like that but getting the wallet back would have surely ended up with some bloodshed (mine). Even though she was a couple inches shorter than me, she was carrying at least an extra 50 pounds and I’m guessing she’s thrown down a few times. It would have been a bad scene if I’d really wanted that wallet back. As it was, I was mostly concerned with the annoyance of replacing the contents.
About 10 minutes later, a cop arrived and I told her the story. She said she would drive up and down the freeway a couple times and see if she could find the car. Great, I was never going to get out of Quartzite. As expected, she returned with no luck and asked if I wanted to file a police report. I didn’t want to spend another half hour filling out paperwork- I just wanted to get home. But she really pushed me to do so saying that it would assist me in the event of credit card charges or identity theft. Having been the victim of a nightmarish identity theft situation before, this sold me and I filled out the paperwork. At least an hour after my “quick stop for gas,” I finally hit the road.
I tore off down the freeway still fuming about my wallet and the delay. I travelled about five miles when what to my wondering eyes should appear? Bright flashing lights in my rearview mirror. I instantly laughted thinking, “This is sooo typical.” But it was no time for laughs as I knew I’d been speeding. It was show time and I had to put my game face on. I’m not much of a crier however I possess the ability to cry almost on cue. It’s a skill I’ve used to get out of tickets and work in the past and knew I’d need every tear I could squeeze out this time.
I mustered up a decent mist by the time the officer approached my window. He immediately yelled at me, “DO YOU WANT TO GO TO JAIL? DO YOU WANT TO GO TO JAIL???!!”
I said, “No.”
He replied, “THEN WHY ARE YOU DRIVING 90 MILES AN HOUR IN A 45 MILE AN HOUR CONSTRUCTION ZONE???”
Remembering all the signs I’ve ever seen saying “Traffic fines double in construction zones,” I think my fake tears turned to real ones upon hearing this. I knew I’d have to pull out all the stops to get out of this one.
He asked for my license and registration and I gave him the whole sob story about my wallet being stolen just a few exits back and then showed him the police report card (thankful at this point that I’d decided to file the report). I threw in some shaky hands for dramatic effect. Then he asked where I was coming from and I told him that I’m a comedian and had spent the last week working in Tucson. I mentioned the comedian part simply because people always want to be a “part of the act” so I figured it couldn’t hurt. He asked if the club was Laffs and I was happy he was familiar with it. PLEASE be a comedy fan, I thought.
Finally he asked the question I was really hoping for: “Why are you driving at this hour?”
It was the perfect opportunity to tell him, “I’m working at the Academy Awards tomorrow morning and have to drive through the night to get there in time- I can show you my backstage pass if you’d like.”
I didn’t mention I was bartending and don’t know what I would have said if he’d asked. But, as I’d hoped, the words “I’m working at the Academy Awards” seemed to put the small-town cop under some sort of spell. He handed me back my registration and said, “I’m going to let you go, but slow down and remember this when you do your show tomorrow.”
Jackpot! For some reason, he assumed a nobody like me was actually performing at the Oscars and I guess he hoped I’d throw a shout out to him during the telecast. As I said, everybody wants to be a part of the act.
Academy Awards Recap Coming
My site was totally screwed up for a few hours yesterday so I wasn’t able to post my final story on my past Academy Award experiences. I will post that later today along with my recap from this year’s event. In the meantime, I’ve got some eBaying to do…
More From The Academy Awards Bartender Files
For the last four years I’ve bartended at the Academy Awards and will do so again this year. This is part two of my experiences (Part one)
As I mentioned yesterday, Oscar money isn’t all in the tips. Ebay is what makes the event really worthwhile. The amount of dough people pay for stupid memorabilia is ridiculous. But that’s the kind of stupid I like. First on the annual auction block is the Oscar pin we have to wear, which serves as a classy sort of access pass. In addition, I can usually get my hands on a few programs left on the bar. Then there’s usually some sort of booklet or trinket given out at the Governor’s Ball (which is the official after party that everybody ditches within an hour). Since I don’t work that party, those are a little harder for me to come by but sometimes I can find a forgotten one on my way out. At the end of the day, fifteen minutes of computer work ends up bringing in as much or more money than eight hours of hard labor. What a mixed-up world we live in.
Speaking of the Governor’s Ball, that’s definitely the most spectacular part of the whole event- even more than the theatre set. It’s quite amazing the way the Grand Ballroom is transformed every year. They bring in brand new plush carpeting, huge chandeliers and then completely cover the walls and ceiling with decorative treatments. One year it was old-Hollywood elegance in creams and blacks, another year it was hip rounders on risers in shades of brown. It’s a sharp contrast from the bland Kodak Theatre lobby I have to look at all day in which they do absolutely no decorating.
On the terrace outside the ballroom, there’s a long line of booths about five feet wide, all occupied by various news and gossip organizations. They decorate their respective booths to resemble their show’s theme and then they interview anybody who will give them the time of day. If you’ve ever wondered how some crappy show got a big star to come down to their “set” for an interview, now you know how it’s done.
Some other tidbits:
Still to come: Oscar security, the speeding ticket story then this year’s recap
Academy Awards Inside Scoop
The “scoop” is an ice scoop. For the past three years, I’ve bartended for the Academy Awards. The first year it was somewhat of a novelty: I got to see the fancy dresses up close and hold an Oscar or two (people put a lot of trust in their bartenders). For some reason I’m doing it again this year, though I’m not really sure why. Now I see it as sort of a hassle and I don’t even know if I can handle eight hours of actual work anymore but hopefully George Clooney will come along halfway through and sweep me off my tired feet. Since the Academy Awards telecast is one of the most-watched programs of the year, I thought there might be some interest in this particular Oscar angle so I’ll write about some of my recollections over the next few days. If this kind of fluff isn’t for you (and I don’t blame you), check back next week when I’ll return to my usual biting attacks.
Bartending for the Academy Awards initially involves rushing like a madman to get set up before doors open and then standing around for another hour or so until people actually enter the Kodak Theatre. About 15 minutes after the lobby fills up, we shut down. With so many nominees already on edge, this is a dangerous feat, but it’s out of our hands. The production team knows the only way to get people in their seats is to cut off their alcohol supply.
The lobby clears out completely for the opening of the show and that’s when we reopen for business. From the first commercial break, people start trickling out so that by an hour into the program, the lobby is packed. Who can blame them? There’s a giant HDTV and booze flowing freely. It’s a much better way to enjoy the show than from a lousy theatre seat with an enormous hairdo blocking the view.
A fun game for viewers at home to play is “Spot That Seat Filler.” Usually the camera crew does a good job of hiding the seat fillers but sometimes there’s no way to get around them. Last year, Leonardo DiCaprio was easily spotted in the front row with his supermodel girlfriend Giselle and Cate Blanchett next to her. But Giselle (cabernet) spent most of the show in the lobby so Leo didn’t get a lot of camera time. However, when Blanchett won for Best Actress you couldn’t help but notice a middle-aged woman sitting with Leo. I almost expected host Chris Rock to say, “You know it’s a long show when Giselle looks like that by the end.”
The tips for the Oscars really aren’t that spectacular considering how loaded most of the guests are (both in financial and inebriation terms). In fact, it’s usually the people nominated in the categories nobody cares about who tip the best. Part of the reason the tips aren’t great is that it’s an open bar so there’s no cash fondling to remind people to leave a few bucks for the poor girl whose wrist is broken after pouring 50 glasses of champagne from magnum-sized bottles. Also, we’re paid a fairly good hourly wage so we’re not allowed to have tip jars out but I always have a visible five or ten dollar bill on the bar as bait. Even still, I’ve had some big names leave zilch.
Last year, Oprah came to my bar, which kind of threw me because Oprah’s one of those people you wouldn’t think waits in line for anything- certainly not a cocktail (gin/tonic). I gave it to her and she turned her back to walk away. I too, turned away from the bar to open a bottle of champagne for the next customer all the while thinking, “I can’t believe Oprah stiffed me! She’s worth a billion freakin’ dollars and she stiffed me! She was the closest thing I had to an idol but she’s nothing to me now!” As I turned again to the bar, I noticed her standing at the corner of my well looking like she was waiting for something. I gave her the “Do you need something else?” eyebrows and she handed me a very generous tip (then repeated the tip on her next drink). Instantly, Oprah’s status had not only been reinstated but elevated to official idol! Yes, positioning on my idol list can be bought. Looking back, it’s kind of funny that she didn’t just leave the tip while my back was turned but waited to make sure I saw her leave it. Then again, maybe she just wanted to make sure P. Diddy (cape cod) didn’t take it.
That’s it for now. Later: Putting the stars in line, where the REAL money is in working the Oscars and how the Oscars got me out of a major speeding ticket.
Bullet in a Bible Hollywood Premiere
Before I mention THEM again, let me explain my little obsession. I don’t even know if you could call it an obsession. I don’t have their t-shirts or other paraphernalia, I don’t take free stickers and posters when offered and I don’t keep the tickets from their concerts (well, not intentionally- I’ll have to check the purses I carried). It’s about the music, in particular, American Idiot. I can’t really explain it. American Idiot just grabbed me and shook me hard. “Holiday” isn’t just a song- it’s an anthem. It’s rare for any artistic endeavor to truly excite me but this did to a whole new level.
Green Day inspired me like nothing ever has before.
Seeing how much they’d grown as artists made me want to take giant leaps as an artist. Witnessing their amazing performances improved my peformances. They’re even indirectly responsible for me finally starting a blog. After reading one woman’s entertaining stories about her journey to several Green Day concerts, I decided to give it a go. I always enjoyed writing growing up, but once I became a comic, I felt this pressure for there to be a laugh every 10 seconds. But now that I’m not concerned about that and am writing just to get some thoughts out, I love writing again.
Most importantly, Green Day reignited that yearning inside me to create something great and reminded me that sometimes the biggest risks can garner the greatest rewards.
Explanation over, on to the premiere!
After two Green Day concerts in the last month, I still wanted more. I almost went to the Big Screen Concert preview for their Bullet in a Bible DVD a few weeks ago, but couldn’t bear to drive an hour to watch their concert sitting down. So I skipped it.
Then a couple days ago I read this on their website:
You are invited to join the band for the premiere of the live concert movie event of the year…Tuesday, November 15th, 7:30 p.m. Cineramadome, Hollywood. Tickets will be distributed to fans on a first come first serve basis starting at 2 p.m.
A free premiere only a couple blocks from where I live? I took the message to mean they were inviting ME personally. I’ve never understood the people who wait in line for hours to see a movie that’s going to be in theatres for the next four months, but this was a one-night-only opportunity. I had to go. I made several passes by the location in the morning and when it looked like the line was getting long, I plopped down on my cushion with my laptop and a movie to pass the two hours.
Looking at the others, it occurred to me that I was quite possibly the oldest person in line who hadn’t been dragged there by their kids. Not a great feeling. As much as this album speaks to the trials of youth, I wonder if these teenagers even understand and appreciate the message and not just the catchy tunes.
Almost an hour late, we finally got our wristbands and were told to return at 5 p.m. to receive our tickets. I’d had my fill of waiting in line for Green Day events, so I returned around 6 p.m. and, as I expected, found the long line moving nowhere. So I walked a couple blocks over to the Cat and Fiddle, where I worked years ago, chatted up some old friends and enjoyed a couple beers. It didn’t seem right to watch a Green Day concert without having at least one cocktail.
I returned to the theatre just before 7 p.m. to find the line finally moving and took my place at the very end of the wristband wearers but ahead of the couple hundred hopefuls whose best bet at hearing Green Day that night was across the street at Amoeba Music. I assumed I’d end up sitting in the very back but knew it still wouldn’t be that bad. As it turned out, the tickets had assigned seats and I was given one in the front row. Normally I’d consider it the worst location in a movie theatre, but probably not bad for a concert documentary.
I figured they’d stiff the riffraff on the usual premiere perks, but we still got our free popcorn and soda (though no free DVD as I’d hoped). I made my way into the theatre to find some kid in my seat. She and her friends asserted that the tickets were mistakenly handed out in reverse order and that the people in the front of the line were supposed to get the front row seats. I briefly tested their logic, asking how everybody was supposed to figure out what the opposite seat was. But they’re teenagers so their only argument was, “We waited in line all day! Waaah!” Frankly, the aisle seat I spotted about five rows up looked better to me anyway, so I didn’t put up a fuss, but I guess others did because I saw the kids get the boot a short time later.
I looked around at all the teenagers and felt like such a ‘tard. The upper section of the theatre was reserved for the band and invited big wigs. Part of me wanted to approach the security guards and plead, “Look, I’m old enough to buy alcohol. Can I please sit with the other grownups?” But I stayed put and endured the pack of 8-year-olds girls, one with dreadlocks, screeching, “We’re in a band! I’m the guitarist, she’s the keyboardist and she’s the dancer!” (The dancer)? The burst of excitement when Danny Bonaduce entered the theatre made me wonder if all these kids had been bussed in from the Midwest and if I should fear for my safety when Green Day finally arrived.
An hour late (which I’m getting used to), Billie Joe, Tr? and Mike entered (without incident, I might add) and made a quick appearance in front of the screen then headed to their seats with their lovely companions. When the bass player’s girlfriend looks like a supermodel, you know the band has made it. I couldn’t help but like Billie Joe’s wife as she earnestly studied her ticket to find the correct seat even though she could have sat wherever the hell she wanted. She could have told Bonaduce to get his ass out of his seat and the audience would have turned on him in an instant to support their beloved Adrienne.
Sitting only about 25 feet from the screen, I was tempted to run up to it and give big Billie Joe a kiss. Then again, I could have just as easily run 25 feet in the other direction, pushed Adrienne aside and given little Billie Joe a kiss. I might have done something that juvenile to the screen if I’d had a friend with me, but stupid stuff like that just isn’t as much fun without a buddy there to enjoy the inevitable eviction from the theatre (or possibly, to post bail). I think I’m also five years past the point where a stunt like that is cute instead of creepy. So I stayed in my seat, bouncing around but obeying the fire marshal’s order not to stand up during the show or the event would be cancelled.
The documentary, shot over two nights at England’s Milton Keynes Bowl before 65,000 people, was almost as good as being at an actual Green Day concert. The show was nearly identical to the one I saw in Albuquerque and I was quickly reminded why that was the best concert I’ve ever been to. Green Day doesn’t just perform the songs the way you hear them on CD; they’ll pause halfway through a song, do some crowd work for a few minutes to really build the anticipation, then close the song like it’s the grand finale. Their shenanigans offstage were just as entertaining as onstage.
I haven’t purchased the DVD, but I probably will so that 10 years from now, when Green Day creates another monumental album, one of my nephews will say, “I can’t believe Aunt Nene’s ever heard of Green Day, much less has their DVD.” And I’ll chuckle. And then I’ll wait in line with them for that DVD’s premiere feeling like I finally have a good excuse for being oldest in line.
While this probably won’t be my last mention of Green Day, it will probably be the last blog devoted to them since I don’t imagine I’ll be seeing them for awhile. But who knows? In the last month, I went from not expecting to see my boys at all to seeing them in a 13,000 person venue, to a 2,200 person venue to an 800 person venue. At this rate, I could be ringing in the new year in a m?nage a quatre with my favorite band.
Epilogue: An hour after posting this, I went to the store and whom did I see on the cover of Rolling Stone? None other than sweet Billie Joe. I SWEAR I was just going to browse the article but I opened the magazine a couple pages and saw a picture of a comic I play poker with, so THAT’S the reason I bought the issue (well… the two combined) . Just wanted to make that clear in case anybody I know stumbles upon the magazine in my possession and seriously worries about me being obsessed.
