Every year my personal "six degrees" with Oscar nominees continues to shrink.
And I can't tell if that's a good thing, or just a really bad karmic joke at my expense. Probably both. I mean, isn't that always the case? Let me just state, that I've had the ongoing misfortune of spending countless Oscar ceremonies at home in front of the television, while my husband gets to don a tuxedo to be part of the "Red Carpet" scene each year. I have lost track of how many times my kids and I have waved goodbye as he drove up to LA in his old Volvo, leaving the three of us at home to scan the "pre-show" sea of reporters all feeding at the red carpet. My husband is the pop-culture reporter for The Orange County Register, and has actually been quite fortunate to land covering this gig for several years in a row. He's usually easy to spot in a crowd. He's 6'6" and wears Buddy Holly-esque glasses. And he's nice to people and asks great questions of those wise enough to answer them. He's not going to dish about g
