Leo for the win

The Golden Globes were so wonky this year that I was wondering if life held any meaning at all anymore. From Ricky Gervais' tired lines and his and Mel Gibson's embarrassing shenanigans, I simply wanted to cringe back into my duvet with the cold I had been suffering all week. Looked like my suffering was by no means over.
Couldn't someone have given Denzel a script to accept his Cecil B. DeMille thingy? Hanks was more enjoyable (as always) giving out the damn thing. Couldn't someone have told the usually magnificent JLo that wrapping yourself extra-tight in a curtain still wouldn't have saved what she was wearing? No one would have dared with the diva, I suppose.
The highlights for me were Helen Mirren's perfect appearance from her hair to her jewellery to her dress; Lady Gaga's win, I think she has talent we don't even really understand, and Leonardo DiCaprio, not for winning awards which he should know are meaningless (Gervais got that right, at least), but because just seeing and hearing him, an actor and activist that has no parallel in my book, saved this exhausting evening from falling into the abyss where it belonged, never to have seen the light of day. Thank you, Leo, now please don't disappoint me by ever getting married. That, like awards, .......