"Wait, what? Where am I? How did I get on TRL? Hang on, so, okay, I was eating dinner at my house, and then I got that e-mail from Zooey Deschanel asking me to dye my hair green or else she will sue me for custody of her DNA, and ... I guess the last thing I remember is doing three shots of absinthe before climbing into bed with a copy of the Sears-Roebuck swimwear catalogue from 1952. I guess that was a bad idea...? Oh, God, why are people staring at my ass? What did I do? I'd better turn around..."
"There's something on my bum, isn't there? Come on, you can tell me. I look like I'm cooking brownies at the freakin' Snow White and the Seven Tortes bakery, don't I? Yeah. Brilliant. That's just BRILLIANT. At least my legs look good. Remind me to tip my trainer, and that guy who loaded on the baby-oil. I don't know where he came from, but he sure was enthusiastic."
