And you get to catch me straight off the bat as I play Fashion Police. Are you not amused?

RED CARPET BLOODBATH
What've we got here? Okay, let's see.
Justin: Still not feeling the hair. Mustard is condiment, not a color. Or at least it should be. Did you puke on your tie? Were you that nervous? That jacket is too big. And is that... crushed velvet? He looks like a Victorian rent boy.
Survey says: Badsync.
Joey: Oh, wow! He trimmed The Beard! He lost the Hooker Blonde! Wow. Could it be? Does he look normal-ish? Wait, must check the outfit. We've got a coat. A shirt. A tie. Three colors. I can live with it. He looks like Justin's pimp. This is a good thing.
Survey says: A resounding Goodsync. I'm proud of you, Hoey. Guess impending fatherhood is driving you towards normalcy.
Lance: Hair: good. Nothing new. Like the shirt. Good color for him. Not feeling the jacket. It's... jacquard. Too gay. And the sleeves are too long. But I'm not laughing. Much.
Survey says: Eh... borderline Goodsync, I guess. As long as I don't look at the jacket for much longer.
Chris: Hair: I like. Shirt, tie, okay. Then it goes to hell. Again with the fucking aviators. Sigh. The jacket sucks ass. Chris, when people say you're a shining star, they mean that in a metaphor-type-way.
Survey says: I'm going to have to say Badsync. Hate the glasses. With a passion.
JC: Oh. My. God. I don't know what to say. Is that hemp, Chasez? Did Woody hook you up? Why are you wearing a cape-type-thing? Why are you wearing a turtleneck? Are you trying to cross over into the Mafia demographic here? Should we call you Sonny now? You look evil.
Survey says: What do you fucking think it says? Badsync. Very, very bad.

I have this small...compulsion, you know. To write down my thoughts as I watch stupid industry things that THEY appear on. Otherwise all my pissy comments just fly through my head and I need to take about 20 Excedrin to calm the pounding in my forehead.

I try that. But then I get all carried away and start yelling at the screen and then later I can't read my own fucking notes. I have one on MSG that reads: "JC? Michael (I assume this was some kind of stream-of-consciousness REM reference) doesn't dance like a Hobbit; Elvis has left the building".

I don't know.

Anyway, I yell at the screen. It's cool. I yell softly.

Tonight was no different, although I held my notebook with the ruse of doing Spanish homework. Every once in awhile, I'd say things like "I think I use por" or "Para works here". People were none the wiser. And my headache, screaming for Excedrin, was non-existant. Until the President of the fucking Academy droned on and on about living in "violent times where they're not here to censor because that's not their job and blah blah blah blah blah."

Whatever.

How much do I love MTV for having Stop Hate programming and then pimping Marshall and all his angry urban friends?

Lots, that's how much. Hypocrisy? Amusing as fucking hell.

Of course, the beginning was cool. Madonna, Bow Wow, and her skirting around on a limo. Cool man. Can I be her? Please? Please? With her big strapping Englishman and her Tank Girl arms, just color me jealous. Bitch.

Yeah, man. I have to point out that Guy Ritchie likes to pretend to be all Cockney, when in fact, and I have this on tres good authority, he's from an upper-middle class family, very respectable. His step-father owns some mansion-type-thingy. Give it up, Guy. It ain't working. Hardcore. Pshaw.

But, yeah. I want to be Madonna, too.

There's commercials. Wow. Lots. This is gonna be a long night. 13 more acts to go.

NSYNC is second on the bill. Huh. Wonder how they got shuffled there. Anyway. The wrap up.

Random couples are scattered across the stage, which fades to the sentimental black and white. A mom and daughter. A biracial couple. Lesbians.

Okay, this clears things up for me. Because in the TIPY video, at the beginning, when the person is getting a tattoo, I'm never able to tell if it's a fey guy or a butch lesbian. And now I know. This is good.

There are clouds. Lots and lots of clouds. The first of all big screen weather patterns of the night. I'm feeling a GMHSALMTOYAMAHAHDJDJASDK vibe. Nice of them to use recycled footage. Cheapass Grammy people.

Justin appears, a bright shining red star in the sea of gloom and...cheesy models. He's apparantly ready to free his mind, it seems. Could he BE any MORE Neo/MJ-in-his-red-jacket-phase hybrid boy? I say it's Crocodile with a total Queen attitude, Katie says it's a fruit roll-up. Hmmmm...

I say he's in a scary Hitler Youth program or he's jealous of Lance and Joe, and he's pointing out that he's ready to take over Tobey's role in Spiderman, whenever. Got the outfit and everything. I hate it. Can I say that? Justin, you looked like something a dog with a bad ulcer threw up. It was horrid.

Survey says? Hi. Badsync knocking! Answer the door! Take pointers from Lance!

I can hear JC before I see him. This is a good thing. At least I have some happiness before he appears. Oh sure, the pants aren't bad. But this random bright color shit, against the monochromatic stuff? BAD, bad idea. JC's shirt is a blindingly horrible awful terrible Skittle monstrosity. I feel sorry for people in the front row. Sorry Tim. Sorry Faith. I'm sure Lance apologized afterwards. There...yes people. There is a cumberbund. Fastened to his waist with TWINE.

I'm not feeling the hair. Did you style it in a fucking NASA windtunnel, Chasez? What is UP with your Ricky Martin ways? And it makes his features look... pinched. GayASS.

I'm not feeling the shirt. I think JC thinks he's just a little hotter than he actually is. He wears this kind of blousy shit when he's feeling slithery. Like he wants to freak a pole. I hate it. HATE IT. With the energy of a thousand suns.

I cannot speak of the cumberband. I just don't understand. Was he stoned? When would you think that mutant acccessory was a good idea? What a loser this guy is. Fuck. A dozen heartfelt fucks for that fashion don't.

Survey says? Do you have to even fucking ASK? Has he ever, ever made me happy? No. There was TWINE. Badsync.

Joe! Hello Joe! My savior. Joe. Sweet, sweet, Dad-like Joe. He's got on a nice longish-coat (shopping with Brian and Nick?) in a khakiish color. It's a lot of -ish's. He doesn't get much camera time.

We will not speak of dads here. I'm having issues. I can't find someone's actual dad hot. That's just wrong on so many levels I don't even know where to begin.

But, you're right. He's not embarrassing. Much.

And, Hoey? Thank your hairstylist for me. You look almost normal. Almost. I mean, you're in a kind of lime-colored crocodile-print jacket, with a big lounge-singer shirt underneath, but, yeah, compared to the other weirdos, you're almost normal. Kudos for the hair.

Survey says? A quick glimpsed Goodsync. Thank fucking God.

Sharing the Kelly Rowland and what'sherface position with Joe is Chris. But Chris, of course, is more noticible, just on the principal that people in Nevada can see Chris. Who is he? Eminem? Nice dude. Real nice. Nice to see you fuck it up with a pair of stock car racing/chemistry/aviator glasses. Real fucking nice.

See, this is when he disappoints me. Chris can look great. He's got the coloring to pull stuff off. But no one looks okay in clear aviators. It's just wrong. Did you look in the fucking mirror, Kirkpatrick? Did you? Have you suddenly gone blind? There's just no good explanation for this.

But the inmates in San Quentin cheered when their color came on CBS. Down with the homies, man. Yeah. They were all like: "When he gets here, he's gonna be my bitch, man. Back off, Lopez." And fights broke out in the yard. Ugly scenes. The prison guards hate NSYNC now. They had to go out there with Tazers and break it up. Motherfucking pansyass boybands, cutting into their break time. NSYNC? You better watch out. You got the law against you, now. Thanks a lot, Kirkpatrick. Justin won't be able to smile and autograph his way out of speeding tickets anymore.

Survey says? AHAHAHHAHHA

Lance. Was Lance even THERE? I think I saw him once. He may or may not have been in a long coat or a coat of some length. It was a color, with a brighter color shirt underneath. His hair was nice. I think. I'm just guessing at that one. Because it always does.

He was wearing Joey's coat, but in brown. Sorta. And there was some kind of Magnum PI floral disaster happening underneath. Lord.

Survey says? Goodsync? Probably. Maybe. I think. I'll just rely on past good fashion sense of Lancers part.

I must disagree. Floral.

There was floral? Fuck the camera men and JC and Justin. It's a Badsync for the Dirkmeister.

They riff. And riff. And riff. A lot. The models come alive after they're finished! The black and white goes away! It's FITTING! It's beautiful!

It's all pure unadulterated Disney-fied CRAP.

It's so... Toy Soldier. Or something. They Riffed The Models To Life! I almost cried! Wow. So Moving, so Artistic, so Deep. JC? I know it was you. Keep your bright ideas to yourself, bitch.

We start yelling for them to show the lesbians. At some point in time, JC is very close to the mother/daughter team. I suddenly see him as a peeping tom. "Britney? Britney? Are you home? Ohhhh, yes...you are. Oh, dance with that chair. Do it!"

Thank you so much for that disturbing image. JC was WAY too into himself during this song. Just wanted to add that somewhere.

It's over. Thank the good lord.

The next category is announced. Pop...something. I don't care. NSYNC is nominated. They wave sheepishly. Yeah, that's right, bitches, you better be embarassed for wearing that shit. Britney's picture flashes up. Where...where is the Britster?

Someone wins. Not NSYNC. HAH!

Ahem. Anyway. Destiny's Child has a cage with women dangling from it.

"OH! There's Britney!"

Did I ever mention my roommate is COOL?

There's that ultra!annoying commercial, you know, the one where the chldren sing "The Beat Goes On?"

Katie: Britney!
Me: I wonder if she's sick.
Katie: Maybe she's pregnant! I bet she is. They had a bet. First one fo get Britney pregnant shaves his head.

(I was informed later, by KD, that she was in Sveeden, probably eyeing up their stock of cute hockey players. Anyhoo....)

Actually, it's apparently something like Max Martin wanting to get out of pop, and he would only synthesize Brit's voice for her next album NOW, so, you know, duty called.

Personally, I think she was there. Hiding in Christina's hair.

Oh, because we all know that there can't be a Brit album with it NOT being synthesized. Of course.

Eminem wins. He's calm. Jon makes a crack of going to the bathroom with George Michael. Damn. I wonder if he walks with a bodyguard backstage.

Man has balls the size of planets. Whaddya wanna bet he finds a dead fish on his doorstep tomorrow.

Some more highlights.