So, what a surprisingly lame and tame Golden Globes, huh? Seeing as the whole premise of awards shows is just people who make movies telling their friends how fucking awesome they are, for those of us not working in films, it's tough to watch all these people kiss each other's asses and thank their agents without hoping for Anna Nicole to stumble to a mic with a Percocet-induced weepy rant. But everyone was being gracious and classy. What gives? I was even able to stomach Jamie Foxx and his bullshit strut for more than five minutes.
Not only were there not any Abdul-esque meltdowns, but what should have been the night's funniest acceptance speech from Borat turned into a really awful and graphic description of Sacha Baron Cohen having balls and ass on his face ("rancid bubble?" Yuck).
Anyway, as an homage to the Globes, I've created my own award: the Miseries. These are my awards for the Globe attendees who, in the face of global (Global?) adulation, are still able to remain noticeably uncomfortable, selfish and/or bitter.

The nominees are:

• Jeremy Piven's mother, who should seriously consider taking Cusack's side in the Piven/Cusack rift

• Bill Paxton, who plateaued as Chet in art-house flick Weird Science

• Clint Eastwood, who "can't stand this glitzy horse shit"

• David Spade, who is desperately in need of a new, fatter, funnier sidekick

• Chloë Sevigny, who doesn't function well outside of the Lower East Side or Connecticut

• Angelina Jolie, who doesn't function well outside of barren, war-torn nations

Ultimately, I think David Spade wins. Dude hasn't been really commercially successful in years, Heather Locklear just broke his wittle heart and his best friend/acting partner, Chris Farley, still can't be replaced. Now, they're making him wear a tuxedo? I'm with you, David. Be glum, chum.