Monday, November 17, 2003

The Inside Scoop from the AMA’s

My dear friend Stacy goes to more award ceremonies than Armani. Here’s her story from last night’s AMA Awards.

“So there I was, rubbing hips with some of the hottest rock performers we know today. I’m talking about Alabama, Rod Stewart, Hall & Oates, Lionel Richie, Paula Abdul…you name it they were there at last night’s American Music Awards.

Did I miss a memo? Did I step into a porthole to 1982?

Last night’s foray into the world of Dick Clark was a scary one. (Although I did get some Dick action: “be clean, people.” We simply exchanged pleasantries, but the pun was one that I could not resist.)

Here are the highs, lows and observations (you decide what’s what):

All the action was in the trailer park erected behind the Shrine. Nobody loves the headset toting crowd and too-cool-for-the-room posturing more than I. Got a glimpse of Pam Anderson’s nether-regions (seriously) in a dress that, as a heterosexual woman I can say, was worth the price of admission. Love to see her and The Kid canoodling. Hope those kids can work it out. Hey, where’d he get that 40?

Free food. Good. Kiefer Sutherland sighting at the Baja Fresh set-up. (SSI Ed. Note: I love Kiefer.)

You know it’s a bad sign when 95% of your nominees don’t show up. (Yes, I’m talking to you, Cher.)

Note to guy in 3 Doors Down chatting with James Hetfield: Cred doesn’t rub off, bro.

Outkast was amazing. Let me say that again: Outkast for president(s). That performance had butts out of the seats. Big up to Outkast.

Rod Stewart arrived with a veritable bevy of blonde and fabulous women. Friend noted that they were probably his daughters.

Pink’s vocals, regardless of where you stand on her as pop idol, are phenomenal and blew poor Britney back to Louisiana. Britney lip-synched her new single then left the building. I’d be embarrassed, too, Brit.

Where’s the rock, people? We were represented by Evanescence, matchbox twenty and Coldplay.

Sean Paul’s posse rules. I want a posse.

The gift “bags” given to presenters, nominees and performers actually came in a body bag. Watching them shove all that stuff into Ashanti’s limo was comedy, including the Weber grill that had to ride shotgun.

And what’s with this “live via satellite” bullshit? If your ass can’t show up, too bad. I don’t go to the show to watch TV! Fleetwood Mac and Justin Timberlake should be ashamed.

So here’s where I step up on my soapbox (now, really? What were the last few paragraphs about?)Turn away if you must:

It is rumored that the AMA nominees are determined by Radio & Records and winners are chosen by polling “the music buying public.”

Huh. Who is this diabolical Radio & Records and who the hell is this mythical music buying public who chose to nominate CELINE DION as Favorite Female Artist? AND, to add insult to injury, Kid Rock won for Favorite Male Artist, nominated for “Cocky”, an album that came out in 2001 prior to his current release. I’m writing my congressman.”