Today, I've been Hollywood Foreign Pressed.

I'm not sure what Golden Globes planning is like for Star Jones Reynolds -- who has a billboard in Hollywood promising that she won't spend Sunday's E! red-carpet show talking about her wedding -- but for those of us lesser lights who plan to cover the show, there's a lot of running around.

Back in mid-November, I went online to apply for credentials, a deceptively simple process that led me to hope that covering Hollywood's best party would just be a fun way to spend a Sunday evening.

I'm still hoping, but I'm now a sadder, wiser and considerably more tired entertainment reporter.

When I was approved in late December to cover the show, I also was told that I would need:

-- To come to the Beverly Hilton the week before the show to have my photo shot for my credentials.

-- Provide a driver license number for preliminary identification purposes (apparently my being a Jersey driver didn't scare them off).

-- E-mail someone to tell him I wouldn't be using a wireless connection or cellphone during the show.

-- Arrange for a phone line for my "work station" at the Globes, a room almost as far from the actual party as my office at the Daily News.

-- Fax a copy of my license and credit card to the Hilton to cover the costs of the phone line.

This afternoon, the deadline looming, I skipped several press conferences -- sorry, ABC Family -- and had one of those L.A. experiences you never see on "24," driving from Universal City to Beverly Hills in the kind of time it takes Jack Bauer to rob a convenience store, foil a terrorist and save the world.

For my trouble, I got a look at the behind-the-scenes preparation for the Globes, overheard a complaint about the behavior of one of Sharon Stone's "people" at a previous show and had a really unattractive picture taken.

I'll be back there Sunday by 1 p.m. to pick up my credential for the show, which begins out here at 5 p.m.

I suppose I can kill some of that time counting the number of times Star forgets her promise.