Vera Santamaria Hates Swiss Chalet

IT'S TRUE. That's just one of the shocking things that came out at Table 23 at the Geminis last night. "Hate" is a strong word, an ugly word, so I gave her ample time to walk that sentiment back. But nope. She stuck by it. Hates. Swiss. Chalet.

Worse, in her defence, she suggested that KFC was somehow superior. KFC! I know! There were hoots of derision all around, of course. When the subject of the Swiss Chalet barbecue sauce came up, I pointed out that I have been known to dab a little behind the ears to feel sassy, while Rob Sheridan (Little Mosque, Corner Gas) insisted that the extra sauce was the only way to go. Not the 4 oz. Oh no. The muthafuckin 12 oz. cup. Word.

It's a good thing Vera's such a great writer. Because, seriously.

Anyway, the Meridian Artists table had plenty of the fun, but none of the annoying bling. Jocelyn Cornforth and I (up for writing for Across the River to Motor City) watched as the category and the trophy went to the very, very fine script for Mayerthorpe by Andrew Wreggit. It stings less when you enjoyed the competition.

Which is what I said to console the dapper Alan McCulloch, whose Stargate: Atlantis came up short against my favorite Canadian show last year, Durham County, in a well-deserved series writing win for Laurie Finstad Knizhnik.

The promised hair-off between Al Magee and Glenn Cockburn never happened. But the award for most patient spouses go to Glenn's wife Stephanie, and Marla Rosebush Kaye, who were taking care of the brand-new-bambino coproductions at home while Cockburn and Marvin Kaye (Less Than Kind) pressed the flesh at the Liberty Grand. Glenn Cockburn was last seen lighting out to take the midnight shift.

Didn't see as many Writer Mafia types as last year, but there were standbys like Jill Golick, and Pete Mitchell. Graham Clegg waxed magnificent about the old Alliance days, when "night two was the night it all went crazy." Sadly, these are sobering times for TV, so the spirit of the party was subdued, but it was nice to see everyone all spiffified. Ken Girotti was in the house, a bit of time off before starting work on a pilot in Hamilton on Monday. "We're shooting the Hammer for the Hammer!"

Imagine such a thing.

And though my fave speech had to be Chris Szarka's pithy and exuberant acceptance for comedy directing winner T.W. Peacocke (Rent-A-Goalie,) my favorite moment of the night was watching Jonas Chernick accept his much-deserved award for playing the hell out of Heironymous Slade on The Border.

As my colleague Sarah said after, "Our Jonas beat Sam Neill."

Quite.

It's no secret that I love writing some of Slade's many disquisitions and outbursts -- it's the best part of my job writing The Border, because I get to write things that make me laugh and watch as he sells them, brilliantly. But those great moments when Jonas finds the humanity behind the character and makes you care about the guy -- that's all him.

Christopher Donaldson also picked up hardware for editing The Border, and the fine sound team for Across The River to Motor City picked up an award for their work on that show, too.

So I guess it's all over until..groan...night 4 in November.

Maybe they'll serve Swiss Chalet.