Over on Myspace (?), Laura Simpson — Jennifer Lawrence’s best friend, her date to the Oscars, and the woman who Lawrence fell on getting out of her car — recounted her experiences at the ceremony and Vanity Fair after-party, and basically, she sounds like Jennifer Lawrence if Jennifer Lawrence weren’t famous, which might actually make Laura Simpson more cool than Jennifer Lawrence.
Lawrence and Simpson have been best friends for seven years apparently, since they met at an event, hit it off over the “mutual respect for Chandler Bing, and we’ve been eating pizza together ever since.”
We finally arrive at the red carpet and as we exit the car, my date eats shit and uses my freshly done Lauren Conrad up do to break her fall. The crowd goes wild. There are flashbulbs and people circling yet no one asks if I need any help because unless you are famous at the Oscars, you are invisible. I have never experienced anything like it. The only time anyone talks to you is if you are in the way of his or her photo. Oh and photographers on the carpet yell “YOU IN THE HUGE DRESS, GET OUT OF THE FUCKING SHOT.” It’s incredible. It is no wonder actors are crazy.
I get inside and Margot Robbie from Wolf of Wall Street shows me her Kardashian-sized diamond ring in line for the toilet and says “I feel like a guy with a gun should be following me—I could be halfway to Mexico with this by now.”
After waiting for my date’s category, her dad and I decide to hit the bar and just watch from the monitor behind the bar and slam a few drinks to make this tolerable. The Academy really needs to spring for more hors d’oeuvres options because now everyone is hammered.
My date comes out after her category and we decide to watch the rest of the show in the greenroom where there is pizza. This is where the presenters and winners are hanging out and it’s pretty jarring. Some guy picks up my purse that had fallen off my seat and I say “Thank you… Channing Tatum” and my dress gets caught on Jennifer Garner and we awkwardly laugh and someone tries to separate us.
The lovely pregnant Kerry Washington asks me if she could have the Slim Jim in my purse.
After the show we go backstage where I meet Brad and Angelina. Brad Pitt smells amazing, like nothing I’ve ever smelled. Eventually we ask what cologne he’s wearing and he tells us, “I don’t wear cologne, it’s just my musk I guess.” I have to choose not to believe him because it would just be unfair to mankind.
Everyone goes to Vanity Fair where, much like the Oscars, photographers yell at you and no one gives a shit that you are a human being unless you’re famous. We can’t enjoy ourselves because everyone, whether they know my date or not, has some weird story they just NEED to tell her as they stand in front of me pushing me out of the circle.
I get tired of this and decide to follow Bill Murray around the party. At one point he looks in my direction and winks at me while dancing to “If You Want My Body and You Think I’m Sexy” by Rod Stewart—a moment, I now realize, my whole life had been leading up to.
She also gave her own personal awards. These were my favorite:
Bill Murray: I love you more than I love my own family.
Harvey Weinstein at the bar shaking my hand and saying, “you know who I am.”