I took one for the team on Friday and took a date to see Enchanted. And while I had no real problem with the movie other than the fact that it was for six year-old girls and not twenty-six year-old guys, the one thing I could NOT stomach was the trailer for P.S I Love You that preceded the movie. I was so traumatized by watching King Leonidas pussify it up and woo Steve Sanders’ ex-girlfriend that I couldn’t even concentrate on the royal pompous awesomeness of The Patrick Dempsey Pompous Coiffure of Awesome Pomposity (tm The Jay), the note-perfect tongue in cheek performance of James Marsden or the coming out party for Amy Adams, a.k.a. the New Queen Of The Awesomely Hot Redhead Actresses Club (it’s her, Kate Walsh, Isla Fisher, Christina Hendricks, Marg Helgenberger, Gillian Anderson from Playing By Heart and the long-distant memory of Mean Girls-era Lindsay Lohan).

Even AWESOM-O couldn’t come up with a shittier idea for a romantic dramedy. Hilary Swank plays a girl (red flag #1) dating kinda dumpy, schmoopy jazz man Gerard Butler (red flag #2 – Butler should only play ripped badasses who have no time for music, only growing beards and killing Persians) – which, by the way, like he’d ever stoop to schtupping her when he could be nailing girls who don’t look like they had Julia Roberts-sized chiclet veneers put in instead of teeth (red flag #3), but when Butler dies she starts receiving beyond-the-grave letters from him that help her to move on with her life (red flag #4). He sets her on a creepy quest to wackily shimmy around singing karaoke, get into fishing hijinks, befriend a cranky Lisa Kudrow and further taint Harry Connick Jr.’s rep by dropping clumsy flirt bombs on him (seriously, tagging Debra Messing wasn’t the low point for him?) (also, red flag’s #5-8). Also, it was written and directed by the guy who brought you Freedom Writers, The Horse Whisperer and The Bridges of Madison County (red flag #infinity). There couldn’t be fewer reasons for men to watch this movie.

Butler could be decked out in full Spartan war gear and kick Swank into a well and I’d still wait for it to come out on video. The movie could be two hours of Swank hitting her neck awkwardly on a stool and getting paralyzed for two hours and I’d probably still skip it until it showed up on TNT. Co-star Gina Gershon could bring back her Bounce character and get down with every hot female extra on set and I STILL would opt to see Alvin and the Chipmunks if given the choice.

What I’m trying to say is I don’t want to see this movie. At all. I’ve seen some pretty shite-y romcom’s in my day (The Wedding Planner comes to mind), and I’ve sat through some weepy love conquers all B.S. in my time (hello, What Dreams May Come), but I’ve never willingly sat through anything this heinous-looking before. And I’m not about to start now.

In fact, here’s a list of all the atrocious things I’d do BEFORE agreeing to see this movie:

• Be the moderator at the “Paul Haggis Fanatics Convention”.

• Sit through Million Dollar Baby every day for a year.

• Run a highly-trafficked Two and a Half Men fansite.

• Stare down the black smoke monster after I’ve just sucker punched a nun and punted a litter of puppies off a bridge like Jack Black in Anchorman.

• Have a kickass superpower and run into Sylar in a dark alley.

• Let Alan Thicke drop a Cleveland Steamer on my chest (his specialty!).

• Walk in on Natalie Portman, Megan Fox, Keri Russell and Rachel McAdams celebrating Emma Watson’s eighteenth birthday by making her a woman, and then getting the nod to enter the game only to find I’m a eunuch.

• Be Horatio Sanz’s official taint cleaner.

• Be a steroid mule for the WWE.

• Bet my life on a coin toss with Anton Chigurth (I’ll even let him call me “Friend-o”).

• Go back in time to when I was nine, watch every Nightmare on Elm Street movie in a row, and then take enough Nyquil to drop a T-Rex in its tracks.

• Have my TiVo changed so that the only thing it will record is reruns of Designing Women and Strong Medicine.

• Stand in for Kyle and suck Cartman’s dry balls.

• Sit next to Reese Witherspoon as she reads every mean thing I’ve ever written about her, than have her turn and give me the devil face from Cruel Intentions until I have a massive stroke like the victims from The Ring.

• Get roofied by Aileen Wurmos, but not the Charlize Theron version.

• Let Brandon Walsh give me a pretentious lecture about being a better man.

• Accidentally knock up Marissa Cooper and get forced by Julie Cooper to make that dipshit psychobag an honest woman.

• Have my face permanently set to Blue Steel.

• Have Steven Spielberg tell me I’m an untalented, worthless writer who will never have the skill to write a movie for him, or even something as low rent as a Baby Geniuses sequel. And mean it.

• Piss off John Lithgow until he swears a blood oath against me (I mean, have you SEEN Ricochet?)

• Be in a horrific car accident where the only chance of survival is a combo-liter transfusion of blood from Tommy Lee and Pete Doherty.

• Attend a Blue Collar Comedy Concert.

• Spend time with Shannon Hamilton in a very uncomfortable place (like the back of a Volkswagon).

• Sit next to Vince Vaughn on an 18-hour flight while he’s hopped up on Speed and in a “talkative mood”.

• Force-feed myself Rachel Green’s Shepherd’s Pie (“It tastes like feet!”)

• Share the same needle with every member of the Celebritard club (and Britney is cooking the drugs).

• Fellashe Kevin Spacey.

• Become a Scientologist.

So yeah, I think I’m gonna go ahead and pass on P.S. I Love You. But call me when Butler gets his balls back from the pawn shop and Hilary Swank goes back to playing ugly people. Until then, you can find me daydreaming about how fantastically NSFW Amy Adams would look in a live-action remake of The Little Mermaid, wondering why James Marsden got such a hard shaft in the X-Men movies when he’s so totally ninja, and attempting to add some awesome pomposity to my humble head of hair.

I mean, really!

Bangarang!

So People Magazine has named Matt Damon 2007’s “Sexiest Man Alive”. Which I guess is a fine choice if you like pig-nosed frat boy looking dudes who happen to play bad ass amnesiac spies. I’m a fan of the guy (and it should probably be stated, completely straight), but let’s get real, he’s not better looking than Clooney, Depp or Jude, he just put out a few good movies this year. Also, it was his turn as per the Ocean’s Eleven Collective Sexiest Cast Agreement (if they do a Fourteen, it’s Cheadle’s turn).

The award itself has always gotten way too much press for no particular reason (cause who’s judging this thing, Perez Hilton?), and the distinction is pretty arbitrary (after all, Nick Nolte has one of these). It’s usually nothing more than an opportunity to go on Letterman and make fun of the other guys in the running (this was the sole reason Clooney won last year), and since that’s not even possible this year, the award is especially meaningless. But I guess I gotta be happy for Matt Damon (MATT DAMON!). Bourne Ultimatum was a sweet, sweet flick, he was enjoyable in a rejuvenated Ocean’s Thirteen, he does a hilarious Matthew McConaughey impression and it just makes karmic sense that if Affleck has one of these, Damon needs one too.

And just for funsies:

But what really interests me is not why Damon won, but why everyone else didn’t. So I compiled a list of potential cover boys and tried to come up with a solid excuse for why each of them lost to the star of Stuck On You. Here’s what I came up with:

Brad Pitt – Sexiest Man Alive status called into question as his face is looking more and more like a leather sofa with a bit too much water damage.

Ben Affleck – After already having won the award, did his BFF a favor by graciously bowing out of the race and instead focusing on tagging his hot spy wife, raising his kid, making the best crime drama of the last half decade, and not being a tool. Was a wise choice.

Benicio Del Toro – Maybe if this was People’s “Most Disheveled Man Alive” Award.

Dane Cook – Was in the running until the judges looked at a picture of him, and immediately horked the chicken caeser wraps they had for lunch.

Mark Wahlberg – Did not have a movie to promote, so hence did not win. Also, layout artists for the mag were worried they wouldn’t be able to fit his gihugenormous maw on the cover and no one wanted to fit the bill for a double fold. However, if his M. Night Shyamalan flick scores big next summer, you’re looking at the 2008 winner.

Tom Cruise – Not with that new pageboy haircut he’s rocking. Also, still batshit crazy, which is a rather unavoidable sexiness detraction.

Jonah Hill – Deserved serious consideration if only for coining the mighty phrase “fellashe”, which I totally ninja yoinked from Superbad.

Antonio Banderas - No, no, too sexy, TOO SEXY!

Daniel Radcliffe – A shoo-in for the 2010 crown after he throws down with Voldemort and swerves on surprise hottie “Your Wands To Measly For” Ginny Weasley, in the Deathly Hallows movie,.

Seth Rogen – He tagged Katherine Hiegl in Knocked Up and become an international star; at this point, anything is possible. He could win Mr. Olympia and I wouldn’t be surprised. I’d just be like: “Good Front Lat Spread, sloppy guy who inexplicably nailed Izzie Stevens and learned a valuable, but only slightly funny, lesson in responsibility.”.

Ben Stiller – Simian-looking comedians with an ever-decreasing oeuvre of quality movies need not apply.

Justin Timberlake – Judgment of sexiness still in question from his decision to journey through Cameron Diaz’s Hugemongus Mouth for an extended period of time. Recent excursions through Scarlet Johansson Ave. and Jessica Biel Blvd. are a step in the right direction, though. A quick jaunt through Jessica Alba Lane and he’ll be on the fast track for the 2009 crown.

Jason Statham – Kickass bald action stars get no respect.

Bruce Willis – See above.

Patrick Dempsey – Taken off the list when voters remembered how bloody intolerable and douchebaggy Dr. McDreamy was last season on Grey’s. He should have let Meredith drown.

Jake Gyllenhaal – This isn’t a contest for The Advocate, let’s get real.

Hilary Swank – Not technically a man. Though I’ve never actually seen evidence proving that fact.

Tim Riggins – Too drunk to remember to submit his application. Also, too busy playing Y Tu Mama Tambien with Jason Street and Lyla Garrity.

Samuel L. Jackson – I blame those motherfucking snakes on that motherfucking plane, cause no one has ever looked sexier chaining a sex-crazed Christina Ricci to a radiator, whilst rocking a bald head and grey mutton chops. Okay, maybe Esquire’s Sexiest Woman on the Planet (seriously?), Charlize Theron, for the five minutes in Monster before you realized you just could NOT get past the fact that she was playing a psychotic she-bitch with bad teeth and a Britney pooch.

Criss Angel – Douchebag manscara wearers need not apply. Also, too much skeevy association with wrecked blonde girls (see: Spears, Britney and Diaz, Cameron).

Peter Petrelli – Would have been an awesome choice, despite being fictional and currently stuck in an unwatchable season of Heroes.

Gerald Butler – Had the inside running until grumblings about his 300 abs being digitally enhanced bogged down his candidacy. When informed of the decision, Butler kicked the Editor-in-Chief of People down a large well and yelled “THEY’RE! REAL! AND! THEY’RE! SPECTAAAAAAACULAR!”

Kiefer Sutherland – Might have had a chance if his show hadn’t sucked this year, and he didn’t spend all his off-time getting ripped and jumping into Christmas trees.

Clive Owen – No idea why he didn’t win. I mean, did you see Children of Men? He survived multiple gun battles, delivered a baby, protected a mother and child in a war zone, took a bullet to the stomach and STILL rescued humanity. How is Jason Bourne cooler than that? Not to mention him tagging Monica Bellucci and pwning it up in those insane gun fights in Shoot ‘Em Up. And no one on the planet drops a “fucking cunt” bomb better than him. Which goes a long way in my book. This should have been the guy.

Orlando Bloom – Technically not considered a real “man”. But he has the Kids People “Sexiest Bland Pussy Boy Alive” Award in the bag!

Bangarang!

This month brings us The Prestige, a flick about dueling magicians, as well as being yet another in a string of movies released this year to star the dewy blonde fleshpot, Scarlett Johansson. And while many people will be going to see Batman and Wolverine duke it out to see who gets to kill David Blaine’s great-great grandfather, an even greater number of people will be going for one simple reason: to see if Scarlett finally, at long last, gets naked. Well, I’ll save you all some time. She doesn’t. And she won’t in any movie for the foreseeable future. And that sucks. Because as the reigning sex symbol in Hollywood she sells herself as the personification of adolescent male fantasy, yet seemingly refuses to bestow us the honor of showing us the chest pillows we men dream of laying our heads on. What kind of modern sex symbol would be so selfish?

Pam Anderson barely needs a wolf whistle to drop top (not that we want to see it anymore). Heather Graham gave us the duel kindness of showing some skin and promoting proper rollerskate use (she’s quite the humanitarian). Angelina practically has it written into her contract that she gets to unleash her Jolie’s on a grateful nation (as well as kissing girls that now appear on Lost. Which now, come to think about it, Jack really needs to rethink his shitty attitude towards Elizabeth Mitchell. If Gia is any indication, he has a better than average chance of convincing her and Kate to get into a little communal island love. Beat that, fish biscuit-eating Sawyer.). Even Marilyn Monroe, more than forty years ago, gave herself unto us with multiple nude layouts. And she would have done it on-screen if censors hadn’t been such a-holes back then (yet another reason why I don’t watch movies made before 1975. No nudity.). All these confirmed movie hotties were gracious enough to show us the goods, yet Scarlett won’t deign to provide us even a fleeting glimpse of her hugemongous knockers. And I for one am offended.

I think the idea of onscreen nudity has gotten muddled by the existence of the Maxim’s and FHM’s of the world. Aspiring actresses can slut it up in print and still keep their innocence (after all, Allison Hannigan did a 12 page spread in Maxim and she’s the picturesque image of milquetoast dorky Americana). And while we enjoy seeing all the nubile flesh and peek-a-boo hairflips of the third billed lead in the latest lame sport movie, the magazines have robbed us the opportunity to peer pressure hotties into some most excellent gratuitous movie nudity. Girls like Scarlett can say they’ve gotten near nude in various fashion and print layouts, so why do they need to show that extra inch or so of skin, onscreen. What difference would it make? Oh, let me tell you, it makes a difference.

Getting naked doesn’t hold the same stigma it once did. It used to be that if you stripped onscreen you were branded, or typecast, as someone cheap enough to disgrace the acting profession with their evil jumblies. Case in point, Meryl Streep has never been naked in a movie (not that we’d want to see it). But now we don’t think poorly of someone who exposes her blouse bunnies. In fact, we commend them. We applaud their willingness to give their all, to bare their entirety, to us, the little people. That they grace us with their nude presence makes them heroes to a nation of men so overloaded with sexual imagery in advertising and pop culture as a whole, that the only thing that really holds weight anymore is classic movie nudity. Trust me, internet porn is all well and good, but it doesn’t compare to being pleasantly surprised by Katie Holmes’s Cruise-less boobies in the third act of The Gift. That’s Joey from Dawson’s Creek, those are her boobies, and the screen is sixty feet big! Tell me how you top that with a low res jpeg on your Apple iBook? You can’t! Movie Nudity has become the classiest smut on the market. It’s almost high class. And as anyone who’s seen Charlize Theron’s nude work in Two Days in the Valley can attest, it may even be art.

Further, and more to the point, getting naked in a movie can help your career. Look at Halle Berry; she was an above average cutie with female lead potential, but no true star power, until she bribed the producers of Swordfish to give her half a million to introduce her little Bond girls to the world. Six months later she’s crying her eyes out on the Oscar stage. And now she’s an internationally-known movie star with a huge comic book franchise, above the title billing and industry-wide acceptance. Coincidence? I think not.

Or take Alyssa Milano, patron saint of the nude arts, whose hardwork, dedication and unyielding willingness to expose herself in countless low budget Skinemax flicks over the years has turned her into a small screen leading lady, a household name that any show can build an audience on (ditto Jamie Pressly here).

Or follow the example set by Kate Winslet, whose brave decision to get drawn in the buff in Titanic led directly to the film becoming the highest grossing movie of all time (sure, it may have had something to do with emotions, the special effects and grandeur and all that, but for the sake of serving my point, let’s just say it was her ta-ta’s that did it, and call it a day). Think about that. Her British Betties prompted the sale of more than $1.5 billion dollars worth of tickets, worldwide. Those are truly some business booming bazoomers.

When an actress comes on to the scene, and is even remotely attractive, men across the world start an unofficial clock in their heads, that counts down to the moment they get naked onscreen. It’s why we buy those magazines like Stuff and FHM; we’re hoping to catch a preview of future naked goods to come. And when they finally do get naked, we rejoice and thank the girl for her generosity. And we become lifelong fans. Do you think the Cruise-Holmes ship would be so frenetic if she was merely the lead female in a crappy, now-canceled WB teen drama? I think not. But when you give like she gave, we give back. So you see nudity can help build a loyal fanbase. Nudity can help make you seem vulnerable in the eyes of critics and Academy voters. Nudity can buy you a house in Malibu (assuming you are as shrewd an extortionist as Halle). From where I, and rest of the male population stand, nudity has no downside.

Which is why I’m going to give some career advice to a handful of female actors out there, who I think could improve their careers with a little “T” (we’ll save “A” for another column). Hopefully these fine ladies will heed my words and do what they can find an opportunity to display their breasasists in such a manner that it improves the quality of life for them and for us, be it professionally or awesomely, respectively. Ladies, listen close…

KIRSTEN DUNST

Reason To Get Naked: Anything to get me to stop staring in horror at her ugly vampire teeth.

THE OLSEN TWINS

Reason To Get Naked: To prove they’re not really aliens disguised as humans (and if they are, man alive those aliens have bad human disguise making machines. I’ve seen better trickery in Amanda Bynes tranny comedies.).

HILARY DUFF

Reason To Get Naked: To prove she wants more than just a career of Lizzie McGuire movies and vapid TRL appearances. And seriously, with all the work she’s had done, she’s gotten mere minutes until the nation of men collectively start to shudder at her appearance (something Tara Reid knows all about). She needs a reason for us to like her, and that reason is boobies.

WINONA RYDER

Reason To Get Naked: Because we’ve stood by her for all these years, from her still funny performances in Heathers and Beetlejuice to the insufferable Little Women, from the craptacular Autumn in New York to her inglorious shoplifting trial. We’ve watched her bounce from one low-life musician to the next and never judged her choices (Adam Duritz, really?). I think we men have earned the right to get a little unobstructed areola action. So I say “Free Winona (‘s boobies)”!

JENNIFER CONNELLY

Reason To Get Naked: Unless she’s planning on ever cracking a smile on film again, I’m gonna need another reason to drop $14 bucks on her depressing ass movies.

SARAH MICHELLE GELLAR

Reason To Get Naked: Showing her little slayer girls may have a Halle Berry effect of finally getting her out of genre movie hell, and onto the A-list (not to mention making my friend Galvez very happy).

SANDRA BULLOCK

Reason To Get Naked: To finally, at long last, replace all those crappy post-Speed, fake nude pics that every guy under 25 downloaded on AOL back in the mid-90’s, with something real.

DENISE RICHARDS

Reason To Get Naked: To remind us all why we began paying attention to her in the first place (because it certainly wasn’t her non-bravura Bond girl performance as a nuclear scientist in The World Is Not Enough).

JESSICA BIEL

Reason To Get Naked: If she ever wants to stop the talk of her looking more and more like a dude with every passing day, she’s gonna have to show us her female naughty bits (note to Biel: please stop working out. No guy wants to look at a girl and think she could kick their ass. It’s not sexy. Just ask Demi Moore.)

WILLA FORD

Reason To Get Naked: It would give America another reason to sit up and go “Who’s Willa Ford?”

ASHLEE SIMPSON

Reason To Get Naked: There’s really only one way to atone for lip-synching her way to a pop career and deceiving millions of people who were forced to listen to her “Pieces Of Me” song, and not be able to get the damn thing out of their head for like two weeks. And that way is boobies.

DAKOTA FANNING

Reason To Get Naked: Just Kidding! (Now Emma Watson on the other hand…)

ELISHA CUTHBERT

Reason To Get Naked: As penance to all the men who paid to see her play a pornstar in The Girl Next Door, only for it not to be worth it because she never got nude. How can you play a pornstar and not put your mammoth mammory glands on grand display? That’s like playing a lasso-wielding stripper in a graphic R-rated movie who doesn’t get gloriously topless even though we paid good money to support her career, to the point where we watched Idle Hands and all we got was two hours of Devon Sawa mugging for the camera. Just pure insanity!

KATE BOSWORTH

Reason To Get Naked: To show the world that her nipples are not multi-colored like her eyes (Though wouldn’t it be cool if they were? Like one pink one, one blue one? Now that would be a Blue Crush I’d be interested in seeing.).

TARA REID

Reason To Get Naked: Because horror shows are in right now.

BRITTANY MURPHY

Reason To Get Naked: There’s nothing hotter than B-list, anorexic, bat shit crazy cokehead boobies (I think I just threw up in my mouth a little).

PENELOPE CRUZ

Reason To Get Naked: There’s only one real way to cure her Box Office Poison disease: (say it with me now) boobies.

ALICIA SILVERSTONE

Reason To Get Naked: Anything to help us forget the one-two shit punch of Excess Baggage and Batman & Robin, and help us remember why she was the ultimate fantasy of millions of guys who religiously watched Mtv ten years ago in the vein hopes they’d replay the Aerosmith “Crazy” video (where she strips down with Liv Tyler and throws money at her), before the next episode of The Real World: San Francisco.

BEA ARTHUR

Reason To Get Naked: Dude, it’s Bea Arthur!

NICOLE RITCHIE

Reason To Get Naked: Little boys take their shirts off all the time.

ORLANDO BLOOM

Reason To Get Naked: Wait, he’s not a chick?

KERI RUSSELL

Reason To Get Naked: Because The Jay has been a very, very good boy this year.

Bangarang!

“Mel Gibson. Proving once again that there’s still someone in this world crazier than Tom Cruise.”

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“OH MY GOD! I just realized you’re not Matt Damon. …so embarrassing!”

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“EXPECTO CORONA!”

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“Lemon face, ahhh!”

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“Troll face, ewww!”

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“I think the flapjacks are ready, Jessica.”

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“Since when did Lindsay Lohan turn into a sixty year-old Jewish lady with a waddle problem?”

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“Further proof that The Jay is an excellent judge of character.”

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“I get to be in another Keanu Reeves movie? SWEET!”

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“Back off ladies, this man is mine! … you look beautiful Felicity.”

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“Do these sunglasses make me look gay?”

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“Ugh, it’s Tony’s turn to be the teacher tonight.”

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“Maybe if I don’t move, they won’t be able to see me.”

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“This one’s for Honeymoon in Vegas, yeah! Take a good look, Sarah Jessica, because it’s the closest you’re ever gonna get to one!”

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“Two whores in search of their pimp.”

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“No seriously, I’m a serious actress.”

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“HEY!! Are you really the one guy who paid to see Mission Impossible 3 this weekend? It’s so good to meet you! Thanks for the support in our time of shame.”

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“Gays guys rock! Gyllenhaal SALUTE!”

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Bangarang!

Alright, so here’s the deal… a day after the Oscars I got bad dash of stomach flu. Up until this afternoon, I hadn’t been out of bed since Monday night. And it sucked. If you think for a second it may be fun to hang out in bed for two days, I welcome you to try it, but you’re gonna hate it, because it sucks. First off, there’s absolutely nothing on TV during the days. Aside from the always reliable PTI on ESPN there might be an above average SNL on E!, but mostly there’s a big ball of nothing (Man, there were a lot of abbreviations in that sentence. LOL!).

Also, lying down for an extended period of time is not fun; your legs lock up and get sore, you get nasty full body cramps and you get a raging cotton sheets-induced headache. So now I’m a couple pounds lighter, a couple Netflix mailed back and two days behind on my final Oscar recap. Unfortunately, I’m apparently the only one on the net that hasn’t done one yet. Seriously, who knew that Oscar coverage would be so widespread on the net? Since when was it about anything else but porn?

So you’re not getting a big slam bang Oscar recap filled with best and worst lists and cheap shots at the expense of Reese Witherspoon (well maybe you’ll still get one or two). I’m done with the Oscars, done with my mammothly over thought-out Oscar coverage and done with my blinding anger over the Crash win. And I would bet most of you would like to see me writing about something else. But before I do, I will give you one last Oscar treat.

Every year I like to write what I think some celebrities were thinking as they walked down the Oscar red carpet. A-Train personally requested I do this, and since he’s throwing what will be an awesome St. Patrick’s Day party down at his Manhattan Beach pad next week (Irish Car Bombs here I come…), I am inclined to acquiesce to his request… means “yes”.

So…

Things Overheard… On The Oscar Red Carpet

Paul Giamatti – I would have shaved for this thing, but I know they’re giving it to Clooney. Why even make me come down? You screwed me last year and now you’re giving me a pity nod? Screw it, I’m gonna go find Russell Crowe, get drunk and throw stuff.

George Clooney – I wonder… if I win, could I get as many chicks as Jack? Probably not, but damn if I’m not gonna give it my best shot.

Keira Knightley – I left Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom on a beautiful Caribbean island to fly halfway around the world, and get all crazy hotted up just so I can lose graciously to that squirrel chin, Reese Witherspoon? The things I gotta do to make up for Domino!

Heath Ledger – And to think, I was this close to signing up for A Knight’s Tale 2: Revenge of the Joust.

Scarlet Johansson – You mean I suffered through three months of Woody Allen ogling my ass and Isaac Mizrahi grabbing my tits and I didn’t even get nominated? Damn! Well, at least I look like a pornstar. That should get me some respect.

Hillary Swank – Remember everybody, I’m still a girl. That fact has not changed. And now I’m single. Line it up, boys!

Charlize Theron – Man, what is that thing on my shoulder? Was I high when I picked this dress, or am I just high now? Eh, probably both.

Martin Scorsese – Hey, what do you guys have going on here? Oh, the Oscars? That’s cool. Yeah, I stopped going ten years ago when I realized I’d never win. You reap what you sow. I probably should never of whacked Gil Cates’s wife after I lost out on Goodfellas to Kevin freakin’ Costner! Eh, what can you do?

Lindsay Lohan – It’s five o’clock, did I miss the free coke giveaway?

Harrison Ford – What? They don’t serve alcohol at this thing? Fuck it, I’m going back to my ranch.

Tom Hanks – My hair looks fantastic. So much good product in it. Look at that wave. Two-time Oscar winner, box office champion, and now, hair model. And I don’t at all look like an idiot.

Jake Gyllenhaal – I gotta go kiss some more girls to prove I’m not gay. Where did Hilary Swank go?

Reese Witherspoon – It’s too bad that famous online humorist The Jay doesn’t like me. Maybe If I win the Oscar he’ll finally forgive me for that face I made in Cruel Intentions, and for generally acting snotty and above it all.

Renee Zellweger – I wouldn’t count on it. Trust me, I know.

The Jay – Bitchface is right, sorry. The hate-on continues!

Nicole Kidman – Can someone blink my eyeballs for me? Seriously, I can’t move them. It’s possible I may have botoxed my eyes permanently open. This can’t be good. Well, on the bright side, at least I’m not still married to Tom.

Steven Spielberg – Stop asking me about Indy 4. We’ll make it as soon as Harrison dries out.

Samuel L. Jackson – Next year it’s all me. Best Actor for Snakes on a Muthafuckin’ Plane! Yes I deserve the Oscar and I hope they burn in hell!

Jennifer Garner – That’s Mrs. Affleck if you’re nasty!

Jack Nicholson – You know what? Whatever it says on that envelope, I’m saying something else. Just for funsies. I mean, what are they gonna do? I’m Jack.

Michelle Williams – Let’s see, Pacey fell off the face of the earth, Dawson is stuck doing failed sitcom pilots, Katie got sold into slavery, and I’m here, nominated for an Oscar and married to Heath Ledger. Yeah, we’re gonna call that a win for me. Michelle’s Creek in the house!

Peter Jackson – Walloping wallabies and crickey, you mean you buggers didn’t love me Kong movie? I don’t blimey get it. Should I not have made it three hours? Was that dreadful first hour where you don’t even see Kong too much? Should I have put in some gay hobbit sex just to make it topical? Cause I have me some of that. I got Elijah drunk one night on the set of The Two Towers.

Jennifer Aniston – What? Did you say Brad’s here? Cause I coulda sworn you said Brad’s here. No? Oh, ok. Breath, Jen, just breathe. It’s gonna be ok. He’ll come back. He’ll forget all about that skank Angelina and come back to me, Leathersk-er, I mean, Jennifer.

William H. Macy – Did you see the dick on my wife in her movie? Yeah, that’s right people! I take her home EVERY NIGHT.

Matthew McConaughey – You what I say about the Oscars? I keep getting older, they never nominate me.

Katie Holmes – Please god, somebody just kill him. I had no idea it would be like this. He’s so creepy. If I don’t smile and call him amazing every five minutes he’ll force me spend the night in the Scientology Center. I’m so scared.

Tom Cruise – Woo hoo! Yeah! I’m so in love. She is not at all a beard! Did you see how pregnant I have made her! Woo! Katie, it’s been five minutes. Smile and call me amazing, it’s time for a sound bite and a way heterosexual photo-op kiss. Bend down. Lower…. lower… c’mon, you afraid to ruin your dress? I’m like, 3’4, get on your knees and open wide. I am so not nuts!

Mel Gibson – That ok, cause I am! Go see my psychotic new Mayan adventure movie“Apocalypto”, coming this summer to a theatre near you. Best Picture 2006, here I come! Praise Jesus!

Bangarang!