Tuesday, February 26, 2008


Going to the Oscars is always fun, but this time around it was actually kind of awkward. I kept finding myself in one uncomfortable situation after another. The first thing was, I get there, and Jennifer Garner and I are wearing the same dress. We pretended not to notice, and air-kissed each other like nothing was wrong -- but while she was patting me on the back, she secretly stuck a little Post-It note right between my shoulder-blades that said, "I Love Abortions." My publicist eventually alerted me to Garner's prank, but not until after I had been heavily photographed. I knew I had to do something to get revenge, so I sauntered over to her again and, inventing a ruse, asked if I could feel the feathers on her bust to compare them to mine. Quickly I flipped my hand down into her dress and pulled her boob out, so her left boob was hanging out over the strapless top of the dress. It was hysterically funny and I felt great, but then a big crowd of people pushed toward us and one after another lined up to taste the milk of Jennifer Garner. She squeezed one drop of her precious, life-giving fluid into each celebrity's begging mouth, and half a drop into each of the photographers. The fans received no milk but were thrilled nonetheless, and everybody was basically ignoring me. So I smacked my magic stick on the red carpet and turned it into a red staircase and climbed all the way to the top. I was so envious and crazed for attention, I really wasn't thinking how much I was going to regret this in the morning. Don't you hate when that happens? I scrambled all the way to the top of the staircase, pulled out both my boobs, and screamed, "GOT MILK!? GOT MILK?!" -- trying to make some weird joke with reference to the ad campaign, which totally didn't hit any of the right notes, especially since everybody already did "have milk," - J. Garner's, milk, that is, which apparently tastes like chocolate milk, is what I heard at one of the after-parties. So people were kind of mocking me out of the corners of their eyes, and I knew I was committing a pretty serious faux pas, but I kept trying to get out of it by acting more and more ridiculous. I started repeating old Oscar night jokes, like "Oscar Count: Three 6 Mafia, one; Martin Scorcese, Zero!" Which isn't even relevant now since Marty won last year for The Departed! Oh god, it was like all my social skills just went on a writers' strike. (Pun intended.) So finally I just climbed down the staircase again, and on my way down I bumped into Marion Cotillard. She was rehearsing her acceptance speech just in case, though she never expected to win. She was like "Thank you life! Thank you love! And it is true, there is some angels in this city!" I thought to myself well, Jennifer Garner probably isn't going to be my friend anymore, but maybe I can adopt this new French gal who doesn't know any better and we can play each others' wing-women at the after-party. But then I forgot I was trying to be her friend and thought I was trying to play a prank on her so I reached into her Jean-Paul Gaultier mermaid gown and flipped her boob out. Once again, awwwkwaaard. Javier Bardem came over and started masturbating in Spanish. I was like you know what? Fuck it. The Oscars are fun, but I can't deal with this kind of high-intensity social situation. Not when I'm still getting over last night's abortion.


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