Slightly hungover, but dressed in our black-tie finest, we successfully made it through the bomb check in our cab (yes, we cabbed it to the Grammys) and were dropped off just past the red carpet. Our posse rolled in just as Kurt Elling and Tia Carrere were welcoming everyone to the 52nd annual Grammy Awards, non-televised portion. They were about to hand out 100 Grammys, and Best Packaging Design was number 99. What we didn’t realize was that they were handing out best packaging as the fourth category.

We sat. We lost. We hit the cocktail cart. Hard. 

Then it was time to creep on celebrities. Jeff chatted up Elvis Costello, who for the record doesn’t live in Kits, but in West Van. We witnessed Talyor Swift win her very first Grammy. Neil Young, Tony Bennett and Imogen Heap were among the endless celebs just wandering around. We bumped into Stefan Sagmeister, who had stolen our packaging glory (for David Byrne and Brian Eno), and he was all “we hated what we entered, we totally thought Jeff’s design would win.” He gave me a cigarette of some sort. I gave him death glare 2000.

Eventually we made our way next door to Staples Center for the televised event, in search of more cocktails (black tie makes you incredibly thirsty), only to be informed there would be no cocktails until 8:30 pm. So we ate hot dogs, cocktail-less in our best duds in the concourse of Staples Center. Yup, this is totally how I had envisioned the Grammys. Luckily, the people-watching did make up for the lack of drinks. Endless beautiful women, some natural, some purchased, but all definitely strutting. There was also the comedy of assessing what people think “black tie” means— so entertaining.

Jeff sat in the nominee section, which was by the floor. The rest of us were about six rows from the top of Staples Center. We could see down behind the stage, which was an incredible set-up. Best text of the night from Jeff: “Jay-Z just walked by.” Best highlight of the night in the nosebleed section: some dude made a McDonald’s run.

Jeff and I switched seats and I’m pretty sure I got un-classy whiplash from being a serious celeb stalker. Something just comes over you. You’re so anxious about missing someone, and you think, “oh, em, gee… Is that so and so?” and then bam, it’s totally Quentin Tarantino. Lady GaGa in her tinfoil castle spaceship outfit being “walked” by her handler while she had a cup o’ tea. Her performance with Elton— definitely tremendous. Jaime Foxx being the cool guy with his shades on and walking into the wall. Those little Jonas brothers, Simon Baker (yes please), Roberta Flack, Beyoncé and Mister Jay-Z, Pink (amazing performance), Lil’ Wayne, Eminem and Drake (killed it). (And Drake totally used to be on “Degrassi: The Next Generation.” Yes I watch that, still.) Michael Jackson’s kids— so cute in their matching Michael outfits. But the Grammys should have chosen someone other than “on his knees” Usher to sing the tribute with Carrie Underwood (remember when she didn’t look like that), Celine (go Canada, ha), Jennifer Hudson (love) and Mister Smokey Robinson. I also developed a hatred for the lucky seat warmers getting to be all, “Oh, hey Robert Downey Jr., you need to get up? Well let me just slip into your seat and keep that warm for you.” Jerks.

The show itself is really long. And it turns out that during commercial breaks, nothing happens, except for the show producer yelling at people on his headset. But eventually it was 8:30 pm. The Grammys had all been handed out. Winners were flying high. Losers were thirstier than they had ever been before. So we headed back to the convention centre. Which had been transformed into a circus on steroids, if you will. There were Cirque du Soleil performers, clowns on stilts, food galore, endless cocktails, and oh, just a few hundred handsome men for me to prowl on.

To sum it up, we drank, we ate, we danced, we convinced some randoms that Clinton Hussey is in fact Ryan Seacrest, and we stole a balloon the size of my cork board, two bottles of champagne, and a bouquet of red roses.

The balloon was confiscated at the door.

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