No, not a latenite Cinemax skinflick. Just our man at Time Out, David Cote, reporting on what it's like to man the microphone at the poor man's (i.e. theatre man's) Oscars:
I found myself wedged between a reporter from Clear Channel and none other than Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, on assignment for Conan O’Brien to mock and jeer at the Tony Awards. Yes, it was going to be that sort of night.
Never having worked a red carpet, I had some foolish notion that it proceeds in an orderly and relaxed fashion. It turns out to be a hellish cross between senior prom, school newspaper and a Soviet-era line for moldy bread.
Read his full journal of war stories here.