Bravo held its first annual “A-List Awards” last night–which made me sadder than the saddest sad I have ever sadly felt. Back in my day, “A-list” referred to people so high on the celebrity “list” that there wasn’t even an actual, physical list involved. If you were A-list, you never even bothered to write your name anymore–not on your underwear, not on a nametag, not even on your voter registration form (they’d surely figure out who you were). You autographed things at the DMV with an “x.” You had your assistant call to make dinner reservations for you, and when they asked under what name, she would say, “Well that depends. Are you nasty?“
There are not supposed to be awards for being “A-list!” Being A-list is its own award!!
Or so I thought.
In attendance at last night’s cable network debacle were the slovenly rejects of even Bravo’s semi-glittery TV efforts. Project Runway losers Jillian Lewis and Kara Janx showed their homely faces, as did the hostesses of the network’s less-popular series Top Chef and Make Me A Supermodel. In what seemed like a charitable gesture, Rachel Zoe raised herself from the dead in the stead of her absent sublebrity clients, and Kathy Griffin hosted the whole mess.
And to top it off?
Bravo is either playing a very cruel joke on their already-jilted talent, or has a very, very dyslexic list maker.
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