Kimmie Dee

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      If you’re reading this, chances are you know what to expect; smart-ass remarks, a turn of a phrase and a decent amount of cleverly placed sarcasm and profanity, which is why I so enjoy the Independent Spirit Awards.  Spirited aptly describes the entire day from weather to wardrobe, from nominees to winners, from one open bar to the next with Jameson shots and Stella Artois chasers, some sponsor favorites among many a guest.  But the flowing alcohol certainly wasn’t needed to loosen the lips of host Joel McHale or the many presenters and acceptors. 

         The opening monologue was filled with all things I like.  Witty commentary, pith sayings, and of course, cunilinguis.  Lots and lots of cunilinguis.  And really, who doesn’t like that? But I digress.

         Let’s start from the beginning.   The wind howled non-stop for the entire 9 hours I was on the job.  Being Springsteen fan, it’s not Christmas until I hear Bruce come on the radio and say, “the wind’swhipping down the boardwalk,” right before he breaks into singing Santa Claus Is Coming To Town. “What in the hell does that have to do with the SpiritAwards?” you might ask.  Once that wind broke through, going straight for the marrow, I was done.  While I’m not one to complain about weather, I admit by day’s end, I was spent.  The Santa Monica ocean chop was so rough you could get nauseas just standing on the beach and yes, the wind was whipping down the boardwalk.  For the rest of the day,a continuous train of provoking lyrics chased themselves in my brain.  “The wind is whipping down the boardwalk-whip my hair-whip it, whip it good, until finally, I felt like I was tied to the whipping post,” and beat down like Dicky Eklund.  When word got to me that it had snowed in parts like LA and San Diego, I figured hell was in fact freezing over, and I moved 3,000 miles for nothing.  That said, I wasn’t the only one suffering for art.             

Many a sensible woman walked into the event with suitable wardrobe for such a blustery day, but there are always the select few aren’t there?  Yes, as much as I hate to admit it, some of my sistas were more fashion unconscious than fashion savvy.  Which makes me wonder, what about a spirited award show says glamour regardless?  I’m sorry, but while the men enjoyed suit jackets, long pants and scarves, women were shivering in EfMe Pumps and Chicken Skin.  This is the kind of event where anything  goes and it would have been much more fun to see women willing to let their fashion freak flags fly in staggering vintage with blindingly colorful tights or long, wintery skirts, wild pants and crazy jackets and what about the hats ladies?  There are some stunning, eye-catching sombreros that would surely get the attention of hungry photogs while you prance down the carpet.  No one would think less of you were you to dress sensibly, in fact, you’d be a perfect example of beauty and brains…so think about it!

         The show was about to begin and some of the press found our selves beholden to the Press Tent Only status.  Hell, I was at the Spirit Awards and although I would have loved being inside the big tent of comfort and warmth, free food and beverages, I was front and center when each winner came out and gave some prime time chats about craft, future projects and what it was like “Being Here Now.” I’m hoping to get those videos loaded for all to see … as soon as I find a third grader who can spare sometime from their own software program building projects. So STAY TUNED!