and the amy goes to....

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Last night Amy fed us cookies and spinach empanada thingies and narrated the Emmys for us. Even though AK and I don’t have cable and usually block our TV with plants, the biggest nominees were conveniently the shows we do watch: Glee, 30 Rock, Modern Family. And I’d seen at least a couple episodes each of Mad Men, Nurse Jackie and The United States of Tara thanks to in-flight entertainment. AK missed them because she was, like, reading or something.

Awards shows are all about heckling snarkily, but I have to say Amy takes it to new heights. Case in point, re: the many awards for Temple Grandin:

Amy: I just found out from my mom that she went to high school with my Aunt Owie. [The real Temple Grandin stands up in the audience, wearing her signature cowboy shirt and kerchief. Waves.] Wait, that’s Temple Grandin?! She looks terrible! She looks thirty years older than my Aunt Owie.

The rest of us: Well, she’s autistic.

Amy: Autism doesn’t make you look old.

Me: Maybe your Aunt Owie’s had some work done.

AK: That’s the rumor around town.

Then Jewel got onstage and played a sad song while the montage of 2010’s deceased scrolled by. Amy hit the fast-forward button every time the camera panned to Jewel herself.

If I ever write something that’s adapted for TV and subsequently nominated for an Emmy (a girl can dream), I totally want Amy to dress me and host the after-party, but if she somehow gets a gig doing red carpet commentary, god help me and my cowboy shirt.

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