Celebrities just don’t apologize enough. They release statements that try to white wash bad behavior, but no one ever comes outright and admits wrong doing. And that’s a mistake. With all the lying and cheating and paparazzi bashing and internet stalking going on these days, it’s hard to believe anything that comes out of anybody’s mouth. But I bet if someone were accused of something, say Paris Hilton getting accused of hacking into Lindsay Lohan’s cell phone (which actually happened last week), and Paris came out and said “Hell yeah I hacked the Firecrotch. She’s mean and she deserved it,” I bet no one would be mad at her. Heck, I bet she’d probably gain points in most peoples eyes.

You see, we like the truth. And we like the humility that stars must show when they tell the truth. Celebrity scandals would flame out much faster if the stars involved just came right out and admitted their involvement. We know (all) celebrities aren’t perfect. You have to be at least 35% crazy just to want to be in the entertainment industry so it’s no surprise when an actor turns out to be nuts and/or violent and/or sexually deviant and/or pure evil (Loved you in Baretta, Robert Blake!). So it’s a surprise to me that more stars don’t go down this road.

Wouldn’t you like La Lohan better if she just admitted to the coke and the anorexia? Wouldn’t you like Colin Farrell better if he just admitted he bangs anyone that so much as blinks at him (male or female)? Wouldn’t you like George Lucas better if he apologized for Jar Jar and the Star Wars prequels? I know I would.

We need to make this happen. We need to force celebrities to confess to their sins and hone up to the truth. And while we attempt to come up with a way to do just that, here’s a sampling of some of the tearful celebrity apologies I’d like to hear most.

Nicole Ritchie: Paris, I’m sorry I invited all your friends over to watch the video of you getting nailed by that greaser. That was wrong of me (but funny). I’m sorry about that one time when you got so drunk you passed out and I tattooed “Skaz” into your upper thigh. That was mean of me (but again, funny). And I’m sorry that I may have given you herpes. That was a weird night for me (this one’s not so funny); it’s confession time: I’m the real Firecrotch. And I’m very contagious.

Brad Pitt: I’m sorry, Jen. I know it was wrong of me to leave you for Angie, but really, do you blame me? That girl’s body is so perfect, I feel like a “3” whenever I’m around her. She may not be as down home as you. She may not smoke two packs a day like you. And she may not let me stay in Malibu instead of trekking all over Africa helping dirty foreign kids like you. But in the end, she’s still Angelina Jolie and you’re still Jennifer Aniston. Really, I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for.

You, Me and Dupree: I’m sorry I ever claimed to be funny. Everyone was telling me how important I was and how Little Man was gonna kick my ass. What else could I do? I caved to movie peer pressure. But I did learn a valuable lesson: Never cast Kate Hudson in a movie that’s supposed to be funny.

Britney Spears: I’m sorry for becoming all trashy, ya’ll. But there’s only so much a person can do deny her true roots. And like my roots, I’m as backwater as they come. Please continue to fantasize about me when I used to be the hottest tits on legs. One day I’ll make it all up to you guys. Maybe a packed hard, laid down wet Playboy spread when I’m 35 and desperate. Will that make it up to y’all?

Harrison Ford: I’d apologize for Firewall and K19 and Six Days, Seven Nights and pretty much my entire career post-1997, but I’ve been drunk pretty much every day since the Air Force One premiere, so screw all of you. I’m rich, I’m grizzled, I’m dating a troll and I’m never making Indiana Jones 4. Now leave me alone! I’ve got to go fly my airplane and sign onto a mediocre action movie.

Jack Nicholson: I’m sorry I’m so “Jack”. There’s not much I can do about it. So get used to it. I’ve been awesome for a long time now. And I’m going to continue to be awesome for the foreseeable future. So I’d rather you just said thank you and went on your way. Go Lakers!

Rachel McAdams: The Jay just told me I don’t have to apologize for anything. He says I’m perfect just the way I am. What a nice guy. I think maybe I’ll break up with Ryan and go challenge The Lady for the The Jay’s honor. Now where did I put those brass knuckles Lindsay gave me on Mean Girls?

Zach Braff: I’m sorry for appearing like I have absolutely zero interest in being on Scrubs anymore. It’s just that I am so damn kick ass now that Garden State did so well at the box office ($24 Million). I am way above this TV crap. Now if you’ll excuse, I have to go cash my latest Chicken Little residual. Humility doesn’t come cheap you know.

The Entire Cast of The O.C. (Minus the non-dearly departed Mischa Barton) : We’re sorry our show sucks now. But hey, at least we killed off Mischa. That’s something, right? Please watch us. It’s so cold here on Fox.

Orlando Bloom: I’m sorry I’m so bland. There really nothing I can do. I’ll try to be more interesting. Maybe I could date Lindsay Lohan? Would that help? If I killed a guy, would that fix the problem? I don’t know. I guess, maybe I could try acting better… wait, hmmm, I may be on to something here.

Colin Farrell: I’m sorry for denying that I ever knew that crazy bitch who attacked me on Leno and who’s suing me right now. It’s not that I lied so much as that I literally cannot tell all my sluts apart. Who can remember anyone’s name when you’re shit faced off of Yeager and Red Bull and four deep in groupies and playboy bunnies? Whoa, what’s that thing on my penis? Eh, doesn’t matter. Ladies, now serving number forty-seven? 47?

Sylvester Stallone: I’m sorry about Rocky 6. Just thought I’d get that out of the way. You know, save me some time.

Fergie (from the Black Eyed Peas): I’m sorry I keep claiming I’m not a dude. Sometimes I just forget. Then I scratch my balls and I remember.

Suri Cruise: I’ve sorry I haven’t let any of you see what I look like. It’s not what you think. I’m real. I’m not a pod baby. I don’t have three arms, or six toes or any other weird appendage. It’s just, well… I’m embarrassed by my parents. I don’t want to be the kid on the street that everyone points at and goes “That’s Tom Cruise’s kid. Poor thing…” I don’t need your sympathy, ok? I just need some privacy. If people find out what I look like, I’ll never get a fair share. No guy will ever want to bang me. And the only way I’m getting out of here is if I get knocked up the first chance I get. So don’t you fuckers ruin this for me! Go away, let me do my time and when I’m a pregnant, runaway, heroin junkie at 14, I promise I’ll give you all the interviews and pictures you want.

Haley Joel Osment: I’m sorry I got loaded and crashed my Saturn station wagon (!) into a mailbox. I’ll promptly head to rehab where my publicist can stage my ratings-boosting Primetime Live sobriety now/redemption interview. As it turns out I don’t see dead people, but I do see a stint on The Surreal Life.

Emmanuelle Chriqui: I’m sorry I haven’t gotten more naked on Entourage. I know you’d think that after a bunch of hook up scenes with Nicky Hilton’s little boyfriend, a slew of potential nipple slip-favored shirts and good lord, a freaking threesome, that I’d lose my top just once. But it just hasn’t happened yet. I’ll try to rectify this at the earliest possible chance. Maybe this weekend. Especially if The Piven asks me to. I can’t deny him anything.

George Lucas: I don’t apologize for anything! If you don’t like my movies, don’t watch them, I don’t care, I’ve got billions! And I have the precious original, untouched negatives, and you’ll never get to see them. Ha haha hahaha aha (twirls beard hair like a Bond villain). … I suck.

Tom Cruise: Wooo! Apologize? Don’t be glib. You know Scientologists don’t believe in forgiveness. It goes against Xenuian emotional weakness laws. Wooo! Time to go back to “planning” the wedding. Katie, do you want roses or daffodils? Just kidding! Ha! Like you get a choice in the matter. Silly girl, you fall for that every time.

Lindsay Lohan: I’m sorry to all the teen boys of America who weren’t able to whack off to me in good conscience last year. I’m sorry to all the random guys I’ve hooked up with and never returned their calls (especially the ones that start out “Lindsay, I just got my test results back…”). I’m sorry to all the young girls who used to think I was a role model until I started doing mass amounts of coke and banging all of Paris’s ex-boyfriends. I’m sorry to all the movie studios and production companies who’ve lost money because I didn’t show up for work (Exhaustion is a serious disease, people!). But most of all, I’m sorry to my breasts, who did so much for me and my career, and I repaid them by nearly deflating them for an entire year. Girls, it’s great having you back. I’ll never have you surgically removed again!

Bangarang!

“Am I a nice person? God, no! I suck.”

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“This is what happens after you make a movie with Sarah Jessica Parker.”

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“Wanna see my impression of Paris when she’s bored on the set of The Simple Life?”

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“Say Last Call sucks again. SAY LAST CALL SUCKS AGAIN! I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker. Say Last Call Sucks one more goddamned time!

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“You ever make it with a botoxed, schizophrenic, speed-addicted puffer fish? And by botoxed, schizophrenic, speed-addicted puffer fish, I do mean me.”

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“Wait, so the Hulk 2 auditions aren’t today? But I did my hair and everything! What a waste of my valuable time. Nick Nolte is a hot commodity and you just wasted his time.”

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“Did I just give this ferret a tug job? Eh, whatever, I’ll just add a rabies shot to my weekly STD culture.”

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“My boobs come together, cause opposites attract (and put a weird, freaky hole in my chest).”

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“Who wants to be a teen heartthrob, when you can be a much cooler, cracked-out homeless guy? It’s no contest.”

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“It’s so nice to have so much free time, now that I got kicked off The O.C. I can finally devote my time to projects that mean something to me.”

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“Yeah, that’s right, I’m Kevin ‘fuckin’ Nealon, and I work at Home Depot. You got a problem with that? No? Good. Now let’s go find you that quarter-inch wood paneling on aisle five.”

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“If Harrison doesn’t marry me soon, I swear I’m just gonna let myself go.”

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“A grizzled drunk, a major geek, a burned-out drug addict and the finger. Yep, that sounds about right for a George Lucas tribute special.”

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“Vote for Pedro.”

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“I put a spell on you, because you’re mine…”

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“You’d be pissed off too if your big summer blockbuster was tanking, and you were dating the blandest guy in Hollywood.”

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“I wonder what Brad’s up to?”

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Bangarang!

I finally got around to seeing the new Pirates of the Caribbean flick, and while I didn’t love it (unbelievable special effects, unbelievably annoying script), I found myself inexplicably intrigued by one facet of the movie: Orlando Bloom’s complete and utter blandness. Over the course of a butt-killing two and a half hours I watched him swordfight, romance Keira Knightley, jump around, do some swimming, be dramatic, play some dice and generally be swashbuckling, yet at no time during the entire proceeding was I riveted by his performance. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying he’s a bad actor; he hits all his marks, he commits to the role, he says his lines well, he’s not ugly, but there’s just nothing to him that sparks any interest in me. I mean he’s dashing and all. He’s dashing. But wouldn’t it have been more interesting if that part was played by say… Ewan McGregor? Or Ryan Gosling? Wouldn’t you have rather seen Captain Jack Sparrow tangle with Obi-Wan Kenobi?

Think back through Orlando’s small cinematic resume and you’ll find that he fades into the background of pretty much every movie he takes. Sure, he was cool as Legolas in Fellowship of the Ring, but other than the awesome way he mounted his dewback-like creature in The Two Towers, there was absolutely nothing interesting about him in the final two movies. He was relegated to a bit part, supporting player even though he was IN the freaking Fellowship. In Troy, you’re watching Brad Pitt and Eric Bana be all sorts of bad ass, and Brian Cox is delivering those classic one-liners (“…then every son of Troy shall diiiiiie!!), but what’s Orlando doing? Boning the blond chick from National Treasure? Standing around looking wussy? I would have preferred Vincent Chase. Moving on, Orlando was flat out paint-dryingly boring in Elizabethtown, completely harmless and ineffective in Kingdom of Heaven, and blown off the screen by a fey, rococo Johnny Depp in Pirates.

I can not recall a moment where I’ve been watching Orlando Bloom act in a movie and thought to my self “Man, that guy’s got charisma. I just can’t take my eyes off of him.” What I do remember every time I finish an Orlando flick, however, is saying to myself: “Was Orlando Bloom in that movie? Really? Are you sure it wasn’t, like, Freddie Prinze Jr., or something?”.

So just how bland is Orlando Bloom, really? Blander than brown rice? Blander than Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House? Blander than the color beige? I tried to put his blandness into words, but found myself uncharacteristically speechless. I tried to compare him to more charismatic actors, but that doesn’t seem fair to the other actors. So in need of a way to properly chart Orlando’s total bland-osity, I created the first ever Pop Culture Scale of Bland***. And just like Pirates 2 is storming the box office, good ‘ole Legolas stormed the Bland chart. Let’s see how it all came together.

So according to my remarkably precise Pop Culture Scale of Bland, Orlando Bloom is far blander than Tobey Maguire and vanilla yogurt, just a bit blander than a head of lettuce, and exactly as bland as white bread and the entire CBS primetime line up. That seems about right. So another of life’s most important questions solved here at TheJay.com. It’s all in a day’s work.

Bangarang!

*** If you want to display “The Pop Culture Scale of Bland” on your site please make sure to include a credit and a link to www.TheJay.com. Thank you.

A while back, before I met The Lady, I used to belong to a bunch of those online dating services (eHarmony, JDate, Match.com, et al). I never went on a date with anyone from those sites, mostly because I found the whole thing somewhat icky. But I did get a good bit of enjoyment out of reading the profiles. People try so hard to look good, but most of the time they come off looking desperate, slightly crazy and totally, unintentionally hilarious. I’ve been thinking a lot about those online profiles this summer, especially when I go to see superhero/ comic book movies. Superheroes aren’t doing too well in the love department these days. Superman can’t get it right with Lois, Wolverine keeps striking out with Jean Grey. Batman lost Katie Holmes to evil villain The Cruiser and his death ray, Scientology. And Spider-Man has to deal with Kirsten Dunst, which is a lose/lose situation no matter how you look at it.

It got me thinking about how hard it must be for superheroes and comic book characters to have real relationships. They have to keep up the secret identity, there’s always a risk their arch-nemesis will go on a killing spree, and on and on. Meeting people in bars is out of the question, as spandex isn’t usually on the dress code. So where do they go to meet other singles? They probably have to go online. And if they did, I wonder what they’re profiles would look like. Would they reveal who they really are? Would they advertise their powers? So many intriguing questions abound, that I had to see for myself. So here’s what I think a few superhero online dating profiles would like (Assuming of course that these people really existed.).

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Superman

Username: KalEl1

Headline: Looking For a Super Girl

Vitals: Male, early 30’s, Metropolis

About Me: Sometimes I feel like I come from another world; I have a hard time connecting with people. But I’m strong, courageous, truthful, patriotic, and I love to fly. Helping people makes me feel good. And so does a nice pair of red boots.

What I’m Looking For: Someone who is not afraid to fly. My perfect mate would be plucky, smart and mischievous. Interest in journalism a BIG plus.

My Idea of Our Perfect First Date: Soaring over the Metropolis skyline, maybe a quick trip to the Eiffel Tower, than back to my place in Antarctica where we’d chill out (literally).

What I’ve Learned from Past Relationships: Don’t leave them for five years to fly to your home planet and not tell her you’re leaving or how long you’ll be gone, and then when you get back you find she has a kid, she’s dating Cyclops from X-Men, she wrote a trashy bitchfest about you and is getting an award for it, and worst of all, now looks like a little surfer pixie and not at all like Teri Hatcher.

I won’t do that again.

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Wonder Woman

Username: PrincessLyndaC

Headline: Come lasso me…

Vitals: Female, age unknown, The O.C (?)

About Me: I’m Greek. Well, Greek mythology, anyway. I’m Amazonian. I’m somewhat of a Feminist (but I still love watching The Bachelor). I look great in blue stars underoos. I like to wear gold bracelets. I can astral project into mythic lands. I demand honesty from people. And I like to spin in circles sometimes.

What I’m Looking For: Someone who will respect me both as a woman and as a creature of this earth. Someone who can match my strength and intelligence, yet will appreciate my softer side. I need someone undaunted by my prowess as a fighter, and not intimidated by my connection to the Gods or my ability to stand toe-to-toe with Superman. That or that cute guy from The O.C. who likes Death Cab For Cutie. He’s way dreamy.

My Idea of Our Perfect First Date: We’d go flying in my invisible jet, obviously. There’s no better fun than that. Maybe we’d crank call Batman. Or tap the glass at a sushi restaurant, to piss of Aquaman. It’s all in good fun. Besides, what’s he gonna do, sick a Great White shark on me? I’m freaking Wonder Woman! I’ll gut that shark like the old chick in Jaws 4.

What I’ve Learned from Past Relationships: Do not use the lasso of truth on a guy when you ask him if you look fat in those jeans. He will invariably tell the truth. And the truth hurts (But you know what? I really did look fat in those jeans.).

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Spider-Man

Username: WebSlingerGuy

Headline: Must Love Bugs

Vitals: Male, 20’s, New York City

About Me: I’m just your average guy. I like the city. I like to go to school. I’m a pretty good photographer. Sometimes I shoot spider webs out of my wrists. It’s, you know, normal stuff. Also, I’m pretty strong. I do pilates.

What I’m Looking For: I’m looking for someone who isn’t afraid of the unknown. And by unknown I pretty much mean bugs. Spiders, more specifically. Spiders are people too, you know. They get a bad rap, but I like them.

My Idea of Our Perfect First Date: Well you’d want to meet up and go to the theater, but I’m gonna get there late. There was a mugging I had to stop. You’ll be pretty pissed at me for missing our date, but I’ll make it up to you my saving your life when a car drives through the window of the coffee shop we’re at. Then I’ll spin a big web and we can lay in it. I’m quite the romantic.

What I’ve Learned from Past Relationships: Don’t let them get to know your best friend. He’s a lot richer than you, and with much better cheekbones. Next time, only introduce girls to your ugly friends, so that you look more attractive by comparison. Also, no actresses.

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Mystique

Username: BlueBaby2006

Headline: I could be anybody, but I wanna be yours…

Vitals: (Very Blue) Female, early 30’s, USA

About Me: Who I am is irrelevant. Who I could be is much, much more important. One day a blond, one day a redhead, one day the guy that runs the counter at 7-11; whatever keeps me interested. Also, I’m very bendy.

What I’m Looking For: Someone who doesn’t mind me looking different every time they see me. Someone who gives as good as he gets. Someone who really likes the color blue. Mutant healing powers are a plus, as I can get a little… um, aggressive.

My Idea of Our Perfect First Date: You’d pick me up from my boss’s secret lair, we’d go to a high security compound and I’d break out some criminals. Afterwards I’d beat up some hapless security guards and steal the password to the Pentagon mainframe. And if you’re really good, at the end of the night we’ll go back to my place and I’ll shape shift into Jessica Alba.

What I’ve Learned from Past Relationships: Moody guys with a lot of body hair just aren’t right for me, as much as I love the type. Also, don’t sacrifice yourself for a guy if you know he’s kinda crazily fanatical about his cause and will abandon you the moment you become different from him.

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Hulk

Username: HULK!

Headline: HULK WANT GIRL!

Vitals: (Very Big) Male, 30’s, San Francisco

About Me: HULK BIG! HULK GREEN! HULK LIKE GIRLS! HULK LIKE BUBBLEGUM ICE CREAM ON WARM SUMMER NIGHTS! HULK LIKE LONG WALKS ON BEACH AND SMASHING ARMY HELICOPTERS!

What I’m Looking For: HULK WANT BRUNETTES! HULK WANT SENSE OF HUMOR! HULK WANT GIRL WHO LIKES THE COLOR GREEN! HULK NEEDS GIRL NOT SCARED OF BIG MUSCLES!

My Idea of Our Perfect First Date: HULK GO TO STARBUCKS! HULK TAKE YOU TO SEE NEW PIRATE MOVIE! HULK FAN OF JOHNNY DEPP’S WORK! HULK FAKE THAT HE’S TIRED AND PUT ARM AROUND GIRL! HULK A SMOOTH OPERATOR!

What I’ve Learned from Past Relationships: HULK LEARN NOT TO GET ANGRY! YOU WOULDN’T LIKE HULK WHEN HE ANGRY!

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Wolverine

Username: LoganXXX

Headline: Wanna do this, bub?

Vitals: Male, age unknown, Wherever I damn well please

About Me: I couldn’t say much about myself. I don’t know my parents. I don’t know how old I am or when my birthday is. I don’t even know where I come from (but I’m pretty sure I spent some time in a lab). But here’s the thing I do know: I’m strong, I’m unbreakable, I’m surly as all get out, I smoke like a chimney. My personal motto: I’m the best there is at what I do, and what I do isn’t very nice.

What I’m Looking For: Someone who likes body hair. Someone who is perhaps telekinetic and looks like a hot dutch actress. Someone who does not have the ability to shape shift (and who hates the color blue). Moody chicks are ok, too.

My Idea of Our Perfect First Date: I don’t go on dates, bub.

What I’ve Learned from Past Relationships: If her father is a member of the Yakuza, probably not a good idea to date her. If her boyfriend can shoot optic blasts out of his eyes, probably not a good idea to hit on her. If she’s blue, can shape shift and is friends with Magneto, avoid her at all costs.

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Batman

Username: PointyEars

Headline: Brooding Guy Seeks Gothic Girl

Vitals: Male, late 30’s, Gotham City

About Me: As a man I’m flesh and blood. I can be ignored, I can be destroyed. But as a symbol, as a symbol I can be incorruptible, I can be everlasting. Also, you know, I’m Batman!

What I’m Looking For: A girl looking to date me must have no fear. No fear of bats. No fear of random supervillians kidnapping you and bringing you to their secret lairs as bait so I’ll come and rescue you. And they must not be allergic to black latex.

My Idea of Our Perfect First Date: First I would be on the roof of a tenement, watching you walk home. Some criminal would accost you, try to steal your purse, or something. Then I would shoot a batarang at him, fly down and kick his ass. Thoroughly impressed and totally turned on, you’d want to go back to my place. So I’d put you in my car, drug you so you didn’t know where we were going and poof! We’d be back at my place ready to let the night take us where it will.

What I’ve Learned from Past Relationships: No reporters. Nobody who likes cats. Nobody who has an affinity towards plants. Nobody named Robin. And no psychologists! I’m serious about that one. I know I’m messed up, that’s why I watch Dr. Phil.

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Storm

Username: QueenOroro

Headline: Wanna Weather the Storm With Me?

Vitals: Female, 30’s, Upstate NY

About Me: I’m African royalty. I know a lot of girls think they’re princesses (When all they really are, are those American princesses who get Range Rovers for their Super Sweet Sixteenth birthdays.), but I really am royalty. You don’t have to bow to me, and I don’t have rose metals dropped at my feet like in that Eddie Murphy movie, but you do have to show me some respect. Because if you don’t respect me, I will make life very cold for you (Or very hot. Or very cloudy. Really it’s whatever I’m feeling like that day.).

What I’m Looking For: Someone who is prepared for any extreme, because you never know when the winds could change (Or if I’m the one whose changing them. I am quite sneaky. You’d never know it to look at me. Unless you looked right at me and noticed my eyes had gone pure white. Other than that, absolutely no tell-tale signs.).

My Idea of Our Perfect First Date: We’d take a walk on the beach at sunset, and I’d make it extra beautiful by clearing the clouds from the sky. Then just when the sun was almost gone I’ll make it start raining and we can have an ultra-steamy make out session in the rain. And the kiss will be so good that the wind would pick us up and we’d do it while flying over the city. And all that could be yours, so long as you don’t pick me up in a small car. I don’t do well in confined spaces.

What I’ve Learned from Past Relationships: Some toads don’t turn into princes. But do you know what happens to toads when they’re hit by lightning? The same thing that happens to everything else!

Bangarang!

While watching the ads for You, Me and Dupree this week I couldn’t help at marvel how big Owen Wilson’s shag haircut has become. It was pretty manageable in Starsky & Hutch, a little ungainly in Wedding Crashers and full on out of control in Zoolander, but it’s become something out of this world, now. The shag has become so glorious it reminds me of Marge Simpson, who sometimes hides things in her big blue beehive doo. And that got me wondering what types of things Owen Wilson could hide in his hair, if he were so inclined. So I made a list.

Here are some things I think are hiding in the majestic blond locks of Owen “The Butterscotch Stallion” Wilson’s shag cut:

• Change for the bus

• Deleted scenes from I Spy that make the movie good (Well, not good, but maybe less bad).

• A map to the location of Jimmy Hoffa’s body.

• The box office grosses for Superman Returns.

• The thimble from my Monopoly game.

• The long in development (but secretly completed) Guns N’ Roses album “Chinese Democracy”.

• The original prints of Episodes IV, V and VI. George Lucas leaves them there for safe keeping. Also because he’ll never need them.

• Naked pictures of Bea Arthur (it helps to keep him centered).

• His car keys

• The Playboy Magazine that had Kristy Swanson in it (Owen is a huge fan of Mannequin 2: On The Move.).

• Nuclear launch codes (He’s hiding them from Bush. The Butterscotch Stallion is a devout pacifist.)

• Extra cartilage for his nose.

• Two perfect, white calla lilies (And they in no way make him appear at all less manly.)

• Jared from Subway’s lost 100 pounds of body fat (It keeps the Stallion’s head warm in the winter.).

• All the socks that have ever been in lost in a washing machine ever.

• A printout of his imdb page. The Stallion is nothing if not career driven.

• Rosebud

• The secret password used by members of The Frat Pack (He’ll give you a hint, it rhymes with “coop tokes are honey”.).

• More shag

• A list of e-mail passwords for all his ex-girlfriends (The Butterscotch Stallion is sneaky sneaky.).

• Pam Anderson’s first set of implants (Owen collects whore memorabilia.).

• Emergency butterscotch

• Ben Stiller jism (Kept in a protective container with an unbroken seal and a seven-digit anti-decryption password. It must not get into the hands of the Russians!).

• 17 No. 3 Pencils (Little known fact: Owen does not know how to operate a pen. He’s tried several times, even attended a Learning Annex course, but it never took. He just can’t do it.)

• Suri Cruise

• The first draft of the Warren Report (the one that said Kennedy was killed by a drunk driver).

• Fourteen empty peanut shells. Many have mistaken the shag for a trashcan.

• Seven returned engagement rings. The women all loved him, but they weren’t IN LOVE with him.

• The island on Lost (Owen is a secret benefactor of the Hanso foundation.).

• Elvis, but only on Tuesday’s (The King rotates daily between famous celebrity hairdos. Word has it he stays in Lenny Kravitz’s fro on Thursdays, Paul Giamatti’s beard on Sundays, and Oprah’s minge on all Jewish holidays.).

• Three baby parakeets. The mama mistook the shag for its bird nest and Owen hasn’t had the heart to tell her it isn’t. The Stallion is nothing if not compassionate to all God’s creatures.

• The answers to a sophomore year math quiz that he forgot about, and as a result, failed miserably (The Butterscotch Stallion can not add.).

• A helipad, though he rarely allows choppers to land. It’s only for extreme emergencies.

• Peter Pan’s shadow

• The legendary 40,000 Atari cartridges of the E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial videogame (He’d go ahead and play the game, but alas, Owen does not own an Atari. His Mom got him a Sega Genesis for Christmas by mistake, and Owen subsequently became obsessed with Sonic the Hedgehog and shunned all things Atari.).

• A list of 10 reasons why Kate Hudson is so famous (And either he won’t show them to anyone, or they secretly all begin with, “Her Mom is Goldie Hawn.”).

• Dandruff

Bangarang!

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