Monday, February 18, 2008

The Annies (Warning: NERD ALERT)

Sit down kids, it's storytime.

So a few months back, out of nowhere, I get a call from ASIFA asking me to be a nomination judge for voice acting for the 35th Annual Annie Awards (The Oscar of Animation). Uh, shit yes says I, and I scoot off to Burbank to sit in a room with a bunch of people who have been working in animation for twenty plus years and holy crap that guy won an emmy for an episode of Pinky and the Brain he wrote. (Nerdy, yes, please stay with me) So after an entire day of watching countless clips of mostly Class of 3000 and Shrek, me and a panel of seven or so people come up with the nominations. I should note that I made everyone rewatch the entire clip of Skinner freaking out from Rataouille and then convinced them Ian Holm deserves the nom. I go home that night with two seats to the Before, Event, and Afterparty. Yay.

It's the big night. Adam has been plotting and searching for an outfit that will compliment my green silk dress for weeks. We're hot, we're stylin', we have a posh late lunch at Mozza, a "very LA" pizza parlor. It was awesome. Down to UCLA to Royce Hall. People are dressed up. Lots of people in animation aren't very attractive but I'm way excited. There is Seth Green! The shortest man alive. Oh wow, John K. Who the hell is the guy wearing the kilt and the etnies? Is that Weird Al?? shit! Doo dee doo wine OHGOD CARL GREENBLATT.

Ceremony was very funny. Tom Kenny hosting. Lots of talented people. Then it was the voice acting category! Eartha Kitt for television? What? Okay... and for film?



Anyway. It's the afterparty and I need a drink. I go to the bathroom and come back to the party, I've lost Adam. I turn, immediately to my left, and see Brad Bird.

I run.

I grab a glass of wine and sip with all my might. Adam's there and I'm trying to choke down as much shitty wine as possible. The whole time Adam is monitoring Bird's movements, and finally I get to the point where I might not pee myself and cry if I get to shake his hand.

... and he's gone.

Just like that, he teleported back to his fortress of supremely rad solitude and Brad Bird was gone. I totally fucked my chance at meeting him.

I'm dumb.

But it was okay. We met James Hong, Carter Goodrich, Eric Goldberg, and most awesomely, Patrick Warburton. All in all an awesome time. I look forward to a day I may attend the Annies again, but actually being a colleague with some of these people instead of like, you know... being terrified by everyone.

1 comment:

Dave said...

Oh. em. gee.