Ah, the Grammys. It’s Tuesday night, and somewhere Clive Davis is having his annual party. I wasn’t there, opting instead to hit the LL Cool J/Ciara show at the House of Blues, the Roots jam at the Key Club, and hopefully the late James Blunt H.O.B. show, too — plus, eat dinner, something I neglected to do yesterday.
Instead, here is a list of what I did this evening, jotted down in my trusty notebook while sitting on a luggage cart outside the Mondrian Hotel at midnight (I’ll get to that):
-Sat in traffic going downtown to pick up my credentials. Expected line at Staples Center to take 2 hours. It took 2 minutes. Sat in traffic driving to Sunset Strip.
-At 7 p.m., left car with valet at Mondrian, a nice central location to all pertinent events.
-Walked to Saddle Ranch to eat chicken fried steak with EW’s own Josh Rich. Received text message alerting me that no press was allowed at LL Cool J show. Decided show does not exist if I cannot write about it. Had another beer.
-Received phone call from nice Washington Post reporter letting meknow that there’s rumored to be a Prince listening party at Prince’shouse going on sometime later, but no one knows where Prince lives.Asked him to keep me in the loop.
-Left Saddle Ranch to walk to Key Club for Roots jam. Remembered onthe way that last year I had to barter my firstborn to get in, shivereddespite 60-degree temperatures.
-Passed the Viper Room, noticed Mischa Barton-boyfriend-bandWhitestarr playing. Briefly considered attending. Boy in large whitemohawk barked at me as I approached. Kept walking.
-Arrived at Key Club to find approximately 200 people standing in aparking lot waiting to get in. Line completely stationary. Asked agroup of women how long they’d been standing there without moving. Theanswer? 45 minutes.
-Put on game face and marched to front of line to throw my EW weightaround. Not on list. Friendly publicist nowhere to be found. Consideredrelative value of my second child. Left.
-Walked back to House of Blues. Was asked repeatedly along the way if I had any tickets. Did not have tickets.
-Took one look at 300-yard line to get in to see James Blunt andcalled friend to see if he wanted to get a drink. Friend is staying atThe Standard, conveniently located just down the street from H.O.B.Walked to Standard.
-On the way, ran into nice Washington Post reporter who informed methat he’d just been to dinner with people who were going to Prince’shouse later, but would not bring him along. Felt despondent.
–SNL‘s Andy Samberg walked past us. Considered screaming “SNACK ATTACK, MOTHERF—ER!!” but did not. Continued walking to Standard.
-Called friend from lobby of Standard to come down and get me. Hedoes so. Tragically, he is staying at the DOWNTOWN Standard, the one onWilshire, and I am in the lobby of the one on Sunset. Despondencyreturns.
-Walked to H.O.B. to make one last effort to get in. Saw nice WaPoreporter waaaaay ahead of me in line but not yet in building, despitehaving left him 30 minutes previous. Decided James Blunt show does notexist if I don’t write about it.
-Went back to Mondrian to get car and call it a night. Valet runningabout an hour behind. Sat down on luggage cart and listened to iratewoman scream about the whereabouts of her red Ford Escort. Wrote this.
And that about sums it up! Tomorrow night is the main event; I’ll beon the red carpet starting at 12:30. The show begins at 5. Pray for me.
P.S.: For those still wondering if I have any extra tickets, the answer remains a tragic, tragic no.