Oscar Fug Carpet: Kelly Preston


“Hi! Listen, we haven’t talked in a while — not since that whole “Scientology rocks!” thing, really, huh? I guess you didn’t find that so amusing. Which is fine, although I should point out that nothing brings back your sense of humor like a nice, thorough auditing. It’s fun! It’s like a colonic for your SOUL. Anyway, I know you guys have been wondering a lot of things, like why John’s hair looked like he glued Dick Clark’s scalp to his own, or why John was allowed to participate in Wild Hogs on my watch. Seriously, though, do you think I could’ve stopped it? Johnny is so light-hearted and free — nothing would keep him from a freeing nude romp in the wilderness. He once told me he likes to live every day like he’s in A Room With A View, and who am I to stop that? But, if you must know, I totally wasn’t even around. See, on a Church mission, I was dispatched to live a fun double-life as the arm-candy to a New Jersey drug mogul who’s been squiring me around the mall social scene, with occasional side trips to his giant Miami-based yacht, “The Tom Cruiser.” I suggested the name; can you tell? Anyhoo, were having a gay old time — I was telling Mr. Yacht all about L. Ron and soul colonics — and then, poof! Suddenly I remembered I was supposed to go with John to the Oscars. I didn’t even have time to change out of my animal print. I just hopped a plane and met him on the red rug. So, you see, I wasn’t really around to stop him from his biker mid-life crisis fantasy flick, but with Norbit sucking all the joy out of Eddie Murphy’s life, I don’t think anyone even noticed Wild Hogs, and anyway, it’s William H. Macy who looks the most desperate to pay his tithes — er, I mean, his rent. But I’m back in town now and I promise I’ll do what I can to make sure John doesn’t publicly straddle anything for a while. Deal? Deal! Now, does anyone have some AquaNet? My hair’s not NEARLY big enough.”

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