That's JFK Airport at 4:48am this morning. No human being should have to suffer the burden of experiencing any airport at that ungodly hour...
Six hours later, one movie (Speed Racer -- I slept through most of it, but I did wake up once to Susan Sarandon's face -- I had no idea she was in that!), and one car upgrade (what up, Lincoln Navi? And don't freak, enviro types -- four seven of us are sharing it), and I'm sweatin' bunnies out here in Los Angeles. No, I haven't seen Heidi or Spencer or Lauren. (Yet.)
But more importantly, it looks like the VMA billboard squad got a jump start, because VMA signs are all over every part of town I've seen so far. Look who greeted us at the corner of Santa Monica and Vine. 'Sup, Jonas Brothers?
Okay, so I'm all credentialed, and I'm checked into the Paramount lot, which is the size of about seven amusement parks and a few regulation Olympic-sized pools. And as I was hiking through the production jungle to get to the MTV.com offices, effing Pete Wentz cruised by on a golf cart. JERK!
'Kay, enough chatter, more meetings. You think these "VMAs" just make themselves?
More bloggity tomorrow. Until then, a few L.A. videos:
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