Thursday, September 29 at 10pm
Groundlings Theatre
7303 Melrose

Starting October 6:
Thursdays at 10pm
Second City Los Angeles
6560 Hollywood Blvd, 2nd Floor

So, why the urge today? The Emmys. I have some things to say about them that don’t fit into 140 characters or a facebook status that won’t aggravate my friends, many of whom I’ve actually met.

I should start by saying that I do generally enjoy awards shows. I like seeing people all dressed up, because I am a lady. But more than that, there’s a part of me that gets genuinely excited for people when they’re nominated and when they win. I assume it’s the actor part of me, possibly hoping that one day that could be me waking up at 4am to watch the guy from that one workplace sitcom and the woman from that legal drama read my name among the list of nominees, followed immediately by hundreds of phone calls that I will assign my staff members to answer, at least the ones who aren’t busy coddling my eggs.

But here’s the phenomenon that’s been happening since…well, I don’t really know, but I’ve been noticing it the past couple of years. It’s become a given that a comedian will host pretty much any awards show that has a host. This makes sense, since they are entertaining and have the added benefit of knowing how to handle any surprises or glitches that may arise along the way. And of course, any awards show will open with a montage devoted to the medium and that year’s nominees, and this montage will also be humorous (at least in intention).

But these days (classic old person intro), we’ve got announcers making up “hilarious” facts about the winners as they approach the podium, bits where the host calls out people in the audience in classic stand-up style, and red carpet coverage on E! starting around lunchtime so that we get to hear how many layers of Spanx someone is wearing and how many millions of dollars of borrowed jewels are gracing the necks of the guest star of episode 6 of How I Met Two And a Half Mad Men. There are constant shots of stars backstage pretending to dead-lift Emmy statues. Most presentations include at least one exchange of “I thought I was reading this part” or some other off-script addition that makes you realize these actors aren’t BS’ing when they say that they’d be nowhere without writers.

And you know what? All this is fine and dandy, if this is the direction they want to go. If you want to “humanize” these untouchable stars, and if these stars want to seem down-to-earth and accessible, so be it. But, if you want to take this route, then I’m just not gonna buy it when the winner of Best Actress in a Miniseries, Non-British, steps up the mic and blubbers about what an honor it is.

I love it when the entertainment industry is self-aware. Several times during the Emmy broadcast last night there were jokes about how mediocre television can be. They called out how ridiculous it is that they take themselves so seriously, but then…they take themselves so seriously. Making a joke about it doesn’t excuse it, but then again, does it really need to be excused?

I guess my point is, go big or go home. Either have the big awards show extravaganza with fancy clothes and tearful acceptance speeches, or poke fun of yourselves like an introspective Friars Club roast and show up in your jeggings and Uggs.

Side note (sort of): I did enjoy the comedy women going up on stage, pageant style. Until it got a standing ovation. Again, we had a moment of (planned) spontaneity, something that made the evening less staged and stuffy, but then everyone was on their feet, applauding this as if they were winning a Nobel Prize (never having attended a Nobel Prize ceremony, I can only assume there are a lot of standing ovations).

Second side note: Spanx lines. Are we supposed to think that the horizontal ridge across most actress’ tummies are sculpted abs?

Third side note: Girl from Modern Family, if you are of the age to wear braces, I’d rather not see your cleavage.

Fourth and final side note: Guys singing during In Memoriam: great left-hand gesture work, and impressive “fooled ya/hallelujah” rhyme.

1. You are waiting on tentative plans that would conflict with the party. (Acceptable)

2. You are waiting to check with your spouse/loved one/rent-a-date to see if they are available. (Acceptable for one day)

3. You are waiting to see if something better comes up. (Unacceptable you jag)

But whatever your reason, there’s no excuse not to RSVP by the deadline given on the invitation. Do I really have to hunt you down? It’s not like I’m trying to collect back taxes from you or serve you with a subpoena. I’m throwing a party and inviting you! That’s a nice thing. Sheesh.

Molly’s LA Party Planning Tips:

*Invite twice the number of people that you want to attend, knowing that 75% will say they are coming but a third of those people will “catch that thing that’s going around” or “suddenly have to work” seconds before the party. You will find this out from a text message at some point during your party.

*Make or buy half the amount of food you would expect your number of attendees (based on equation above) to eat. The exception to this is Coke Zero, which will be pillaged from the back recesses of your fridge if you don’t set out enough.

*Set your start time 90 minutes ahead of when you actually would like guests to start arriving. And despite the fact that you have given people your address and apartment number, expect phone calls and texts requesting reiteration of this information throughout the first two hours of your party.

I had previously thought that it wasn’t just an LA thing and that society in general has lost touch with party etiquette. Then last week I was in Dallas for my sister’s wedding shower, which I helped plan. It started at 2:00. At 1:57 guests started arriving. At 2:03 a guest arrived and apologized for being late.

Okay, that’s enough of being an old fart for one day. Happy holidays!

In the December 2010 issue, there’s half a page devoted to things readers do keep their marriages fun or something like that. Like, say, high five-ing each other a lot (real example). Or like the woman who explains that she and her husband really want a dog but their building doesn’t allow them, so every day when she comes home he comes to the door on all fours, barks, jumps up on her and licks her face.

Yeah. Not everything is for sharing.

I make no claims that I’ve been a loyal Rangers fan all these years. There are two teams that I have any shot at all of being able to name their starting line-up: the Dodgers, because I went to 21 of their games last year, and the Yankees, who are my boyfriend Joe’s team of choice, which is putting it lightly. The Yankees are also the reason I went to 21 Dodger games, since we had to buy a package to get tickets to the Yankee/Dodger series, of which we went to all three games. It’s pretty serious.

Now, Joe happened to be out of town during the Yankees/Rangers playoff series, so I felt safe rooting for the Rangers. But the real reason I was/am rooting for them has more to do with the fact that it’s just plain exciting for them to make it this far. It’s not that I’m a fair-weather fan so much as that I’m a sentimental fan. If Joe had been around during that series, I would have rooted for the Yankees, because it’s in my best interest for him to be happy. And when it comes to the Yankees, it’s not so much that he’s happy when they win, it’s that he’s irate when they don’t.

The consolation to Yankee fans is that those Joe Girardi Taco Bell spots are still airing. I mean, those are cute, right? And isn’t that the real victory?

That’s all I’m going to say about this, because I’m already uncomfortable with the amount of sports I’ve talked about. So…who here likes unicorns?

But then life throws you a curve ball (say, hypothetically, not getting a job you really wanted) and you run to Ralph’s for that familiar plastic box of Lofthouse cookies (don’t act like you don’t know what they are. In the bakery section. Sugar cookies with about an inch of frosting and sprinkles on top.). And while the first two or three cookies make your teeth hurt with all the sugar, by the time you’re licking your finger to get up the last of the crumbs, you’re running back into sugar’s open arms, saying “Baby, I’m sorry, I’ll never leave you again.”

In other news, things are on the upswing a bit in the ol’ acting department. As you may have seen, my current featured video is a bit I did on Jimmy Kimmel a couple of weeks ago, and now I’ve just gotten word that I booked a Toyota commercial that will shoot next week. For those keeping track, this will be the first commercial I’ve done since Sonic (aside from a Pillsbury spec that never aired). For those keeping even more track (now a very popular phrase, all the kids are using it), my former Sonic husband Brian was in a series of ads for Toyota…in a minivan, in fact. These spots aren’t with him, but in a way it’s like I’m commercially stalking him.

So, either things will continue to get better, or they won’t and I’ll blame this post for jinxing it. Stay tuned to find out!

Oh also, check out another new video I did for the Second City Network on my Video page!