The title needs no explanation. Here we go again. This comes around so soon, I barely paid my bill from last year. The show sucked, so what else is new? It’s bad Las Vegas. The winners, or shall I say winner, was great. Frank Budgen won the whole enchilada. He deserved it. He does four spots for the States and they all win Lions. Go figure. Question: Where was the spot with the guy who bangs his head? Not even the short list, and I thought it was good for Gold. No, I didn’t do it.
The parties were wild. Shots’ was on the beach. It was perfect if you are under 30 and on ecstasy. I am out on both counts. I walked on the pier and 300 people knew all my sizes in two minutes. The music was loud. Thank God I am deaf. Do they ever change the damn beat? The line was almost as much fun as the party. Everyone was lying about being on the list. They had these linebackers checking and I was terrified. NAM! One guy jumped the fence and I think they drowned him.
DDB’s party was a hoot. They had a DJ with a few musicians playing to the tracks, and a huge screen behind him. It projected live images of the party and whatever. Good idea, except when the live was you dancing like a big a-hole, or two people making out who really don’t want all of Cannes seeing their tongues. There was more Bud consumed at this bash than at a Giants’ playoff game.
Villas were in this year. Up in the hills, and I finally got off my chair and went to one. Good thinking. Beautiful women in thongs, and nobody knew me. Perfect! Amber Music had a fun lunch, as well as Marcio, even though he didn’t have the diving contest. It was going to be my year.
People-watching was the best activity, as usual. Not just the beach. The Brazilians were up at 8:30 a.m. to watch the football, or maybe they stayed up. They won. The Brits won the show but lost the football. They wanted the football more. The French had an air traffic control slowdown because they lost everything. How sensitive to make air travel more tense. Good thing they make great wine.
It seemed a little subdued this year. The Martinez wasn’t as crowded at 4 a.m. The only real drunks were at the Gutter Bar. It too was less crowded. It may be the economy or just the mood of the world. I’m glad I went.
The List
Best Dressed: Ron Berger. (I owe him one.)
Best Laugh: Patty Kanner. (She has to have a sense of humor.)
Best Tattoos: Stavros.
Worst Tattoos: Stavros.
Worst Transportation: A tie. Mitch’s little tiny, teeny boat and the lost French bus driver who should have drank.
Worst dressed: Still Bryan Farhy. (Dirk Bogarde, Death in Venice.)
Best Dressed: I didn’t get her name.
Rookies of the year: Judy Wald and Nancy Axthelm.
Best Line: That’s not my pantyhose, that’s my skin. (Guess who?)
Question of the Year: Which is worse? Seeing your name in print for getting oral sex on the beach after 2 a.m. or giving it? All answers can be sent to www. headquartersfilms.com.
