Secret Diary of an Oscars' Host

Secret Diary of an Oscars' Host

• 24.2.09

Dear Diary

It's been a bloody long day, but what a day!

I woke up yesterday morning and was so excited, I could barely eat my Coco Pops. The Academy Awards were finally here. And you should see Deb. Man! She's hot. She had her hair cut especially and she's been helping me at the gym. I think spotting me for my bench presses has helped her just as much as me. And the Alex Perry dress she wore? Man! Did I tell you she's hot?! If I had a tail, I'd be wagging it a lot!

I've had some late nights but it's all good. People thought I was joking when I said that I made the props for my opening routine. Lucky Deb and I have a huge crafts stash for Oscar and Ava and a truckload of Clag. Hey, I just realised ... how cool is that? Oscar's called Oscar and I just hosted the Oscars! Ha. I wish I'd thought of that earlier.

And how great to have Sarah Jessica Parker near the front row so I could scare the Victoria's Secret pants off her when I said, "Hi, Sarah Jessica," just a minute into the number. After pulling her out of the audience for my 2004 Tony telecast and getting her to lap dance ... haha, the poor little darl' was probably shaking in those Manolo Beatniks she wears! Hm. Getting her to lap dance again would have been a really great move for the Wrestler tribute. Never mind. I had fun taking the Mickey-Rourke out of myself with my big Wolverine finish. I hope it wasn't too obscure. I wish I hadn't run out of time to sew silver spray painted paddle pop sticks into the end of my wrestler arm pads for the full effect.

I've also been spending hours and hours drilling my dance steps, mostly for the big Busby Berkeley flavoured number with a triple scoop of Baz on top. I had such a ball! In fact, I don't think I've had so much fun since The Boy from Oz days, though I kind of missed the tight gold duds. But being able to dance with a girl made up for it. I was a little breathless by the end of the number, but I did rescue a cat from a tree and save a little old lady from a burning building on the way to the theatre, and I think that knackered me a bit.

Well, it's time to read some bedtime stories to the kids.
H.J.

Note: Of course, this is all highly fictitious and bears no relationship whatsoever to any real person or persons, living or pretending to do so, and any resemblance is entirely coincidental. Really.