Last year the RWA judges politely spread out the nominations among several of my friends, but this year my dear friend Connie Brockway is hogging them all for herself. MY SEDUCTION is up for Best Short Historical and MY PLEASURE is up for Best Long Historical. Now Connie already has 2 RITAS for Best Long Historical. (I know this because she told me that she keeps them on a dais in her office. With a push of a button, the dais rises, twin fountains shoot up in the air and an orchestra starts to play "Gloria, Gloria In Excelsis Deo" while a giant screen TV behind the dais plays an endless loop of her accepting her awards.)
Now I personally have been nominated for 6 RITAS in my career, but have yet to win. As Bob Hope used to say about the Oscars, at my house we call RITA night "the Passover." Being nominated several times without winning gives you some wonderful personal skills like 1) the ability to say, "It's an honor just to be nominated" through teeth clenched in a frozen smile 2) the ability to smile when someone else's name is called instead of crawling under your seat 3) the ability to enjoy a cigarette after the ceremony (even if you don't smoke).
But wait--we were talking about Connie, weren't we?
Because I think I've finally found a way to get that RITA. You see, I, Teresa Medeiros, have been chosen to present the RITA for Short Historical this year. Now Connie has some wonderful competition in both of those categories but there's still a chance I could open up that envelope and see the name CONNIE BROCKWAY blaring at me. If so, I'm thinking this could be the best evening gown smack-down since RuPaul met Dennis Rodman in the 1998 WWF Grudge Match.
If Connie SHOULD win the RITA while I'm presenting, which course of action would you suggest:
1) Smile graciously, hand her the RITA, give her a heartfelt hug, and offer to buy her a drink after the ceremony?
2) Smile graciously, hand her the RITA, and step on the train of her dress as she's walking away?
3) Smile graciously, then dart toward the exit, forcing her to chase me down, tackle me, bang my head on the stage, and pry the RITA from my cold, dead hands?