So I'm sitting here in the deadline press room of the Golden Globes, and while that's not nearly as glamorous as it sounds, it's not exactly unglamorous, either.

For one thing, my cramped work station is in the front row, sandwiched between the Los Angeles Times and the Los Angeles Daily News. Further to my left is the critic for Daily Variety, down the table to my right, two reporters for the Associated Press.

And they're all wearing tuxes.

Yes, there's a dress code for reporters covering the Globes -- maybe because the Hollywood Foreign Press realizes that journalists don't always instinctively dress to the nines -- but it's easier to achieve for guys, I think.

I've been running around this week getting my hair cut, my eyebrows waxed, picking up a beaded jacket that looks better with a pair of black silky pants than the one I originally planned to wear. Plus, you know, the guys didn't have to find an evening bag.

At least I don't think so.

On a less glamorous note, I had to park in a garage about a mile away and ride a shuttle to the Beverly Hilton, passing through layers of security that make the checkpoints at Philadelphia airport look low-tech.

Every time I move from the deadline press room -- where I have a phone line and a place to plug in my laptop -- to the "seated journalists" room -- where Globe winners will meet the press later this evening -- a guard holds a scanner to the press pass hanging around my neck.

Somehow, I doubt he's impressed by my pearls.