The Ego Storm To End Them All

The Oscars are coming up. I avoid this nonsense like the plague, but each year write something up as to how things should go. As I've been doing this for a few years, they've developed a continuity of their own. For those of you who are going to watch the 96 hour long marathon ceremony, good luck. I will be getting several decent night's sleep.

Three days before the ceremony even takes place, people will have selected spots around the Dolby Theatre for star watching. They will have camped out in the hopes that they can get photos and autographs from the stars. They will spend their time gossipping about who will be wearing what, annoying local stores with requests to use their washrooms, and giving Uber Eats drivers some brisk business.

ABC's president will gather together the producers, Raj Kapoor and Katy Mullan, who are returning again to head up the broadcast, in their office. He will demand that they keep on schedule as he's tired of the Oscars ceremonies going on for days and days. "Look, I get that they all want to celebrate, but our affiliates have to do their morning news traffic reports. It might not matter to you or me, but the people of Des Moines, it matters that a broken down pick up truck collided with a molasses truck."

Mullan and Kapoor will promise that they'll keep on top of things, all while knowing they'll be breaking that promise.

Conan O'Brien, returning to host, will be fine tuning his monologue with the writers, wondering how many people he'll offend this time.

Jack Nicholson's corpse will be brought out for preparations at a mortician's facility in Los Angeles. As his will dictates he must be at every Oscars, his body was embalmed years ago, and each year, it seems to take longer to get him ready to go.

Kapoor and Mullan will be interrupted from their plans on how to keep Barbra Streisand from attending the Oscars with the unexpected news that she has passed away in her sleep.

On the morning of the ceremony, Tom Cruise will set out from home. His ban from the Oscars continues, and yet he has an outrageous scheme on how to infiltrate the event once again this year, Mission Impossible style. It requires a few hired guns and/ or expendable twits. Nothing he hasn't done before.

Mullan and Kapoor, having had spent the last three days thanking their lucky stars that they won't have to deal with the rage ego-storm of Barbra Streisand ever again, will be in last minute preparation time.

The Dolby Theatre will, likewise, be in last minute preparation time with staff handling various tasks. Jack Nicholson's body will be placed in the front row seating, in tuxedo and sunglasses, looking, well... like Jack. Mullan and Kapoor will brief the small group of seat fillers who will be paid extra to be spending the evening surrounding Jack. They will advise them to ignore the scent of embalming fluids.

Leonardo DiCaprio, nominated for Best Actor this year, will be at home getting ready. He'll be meeting his latest girlfriend, who will be turning twenty six in July. As such, he will be busy planning on how to dump her at the end of June, what with his disregard for any woman over a certain age. He will also be feeling a growing sense of dread. He knows he should just skip the Oscars, what with the PTSD over being beaten up every year by Marisa Tomei, but his ego insists he must attend.

Mullan and Kapoor will be briefing their designated enforcers, back again this year. Tommy Lee Jones and Marisa Tomei, who have worked together on multiple Oscars ceremonies and spent time beating up DiCaprio and Cruise, will be raring to go. Upon mention of keeping the speeches short, Jones and Tomei will shrug. 

Despite not being in any notable movies in the last year, John Travolta will be at home, getting his tux ready. He'll give himself a look in the mirror, and nod to himself. "Joey Tarleton, you're looking good."

The ceremony will get underway. Paparazzi will crowd the red carpet, talking to incoming stars, trying to get a sound byte. Some of the stars will pass them by entirely. Others might stop in and have a few words. 

Tom Cruise will meet with a group of waiters/ movie set extras in a warehouse a few blocks away from the Dolby Theatre. Plus Scott Baio, who has nothing else to do and hasn't learned from the last few years of helping Tom Cruise out on Oscar night. It will be an audacious plan of distraction and misdirection, with the group being the distraction. "This can't fail!" Cruise will say. 

"Say, I think I need a bigger role in this," Baio will insist.

"Shut up, Chachi!" Cruise will snap.

"Hey! I was also in Charles in Charge!" Baio will point out.

Katherine Heigl and Katherine Heigl will show up, despite having no film work in the last few years. The actress and her alternate reality counterpart and wife will make a spectacle of themselves on the red carpet, making out, hands all over each other. Heigl once risked the space-time continuum to bring her counterpart in to this reality. After all, for someone that narcissistic, the only person they could love is themselves. After getting a bit too risque, they'll be ushered inside.

John Travolta, just arriving, will see them go and say to himself, "Wow, Kristine Howard and Kristine Howard really look good this year."

The seat fillers around the corpse of Jack Nicholson will be making a point of breathing in a shallow way.

Jones and Tomei will be off to the side of the seating, talking amongst themselves. They will both turn, as if sensing a presence. At this point in time, DiCaprio will arrive with his date. He will see Jones and Tomei, and start to tremble. Tomei will smile, point at him, and run a finger across her throat. DiCaprio will stifle the desire to cry.

Travolta will take his seat, look around, spot Jack Nicholson's corpse a couple of rows down and a few seats over, and say to himself, "That Jeremy Norton. What a guy, always the first one in, the last one to leave."

At home, James Brolin will be lost in thought, what with the days since his wife Barbra Streisand died in her sleep. He might wonder why no one has mentioned this in the news, but really doesn't care.

Conan O'Brien will open up the ceremony with a monologue taking shots at how no one's seen this year's nominated films, various actors in the audience, the industry in general, and Donald Trump for good measure.

At Mar-A-Lago, the American President will begin forty seven straight hours of rage tweeting with "Connor O'Ryan Not Funny! Unfair!"

At home, Billy Crystal will feel grateful that he once again turned down hosting this thing.

Tommy Lee Jones and Marisa Tomei will keep an eye on things. Tomei will keep looking directly at DiCaprio, sizing him up, calculating the velocity of a punch to his nose to break it again.

Leonardo DiCaprio will have a distinct feeling like someone is walking over his grave.

The first winner will be announced. They will set the tone for the evening when thirty seconds into their speech, they tell the orchestra that no, they're not going to get rushed off the stage, so quiet down there.

Tom Cruise will finish his briefing with his elite team of waiters and extras, plus Scott Baio. "Any final questions?" he will demand.

"Is there a chance any of us are going to get hurt?" one will ask. 

"Good question," Cruise will say. "Maybe. Now go put your mime make-up on."

The group will break up. Except for Scott Baio, who will ask, "what about me? I'm not going to be wearing mime make up?"

"No, you're driving," Cruise will tell him. "Besides, you're not a good enough actor to be a mime."

"Come on! I was the star of two shows! Three if you count Joanie Loves Chachi." Baio will protest.

"Shut up, Chachi!"

Mullan and Kapoor will look at their watches, realizing that they're already an hour behind where they're supposed to be by this point in the broadcast. "They'll never let us do this again," Kapoor will remark.

Mullan will nod. "See you in hell."

John Travolta will point at Michael B. Jordan in the crowd, and say to the person sitting next to him, "That's Mark S. Burroughs! You know, the basketball player!"

Barbra Streisand's agent will arrive at the mansion she called home with her husband. James Brolin will answer the door. "James!" he will say. "I'm so sorry, really. Just got your message an hour ago. I've been in Bora Bora hiding from my fifth ex-wife. Anyway, we've got to get the publicity machine up and running and let people know about the funeral."

"I haven't organized a funeral," Brolin will tell him.

"You haven't? Why not?" 

"Funerals are sad occasions," Brolin will explain. "And right now, I'm happy."

Donald Trump will tweet about how great the movie about his wife is, and how everyone's a loser.

Leonardo DiCaprio will squirm in his seat, feeling the eyes of that woman who keeps beating him up every year when he comes to these events. He will summon up the courage to look where he knows her to be. Marisa Tomei will meet his gaze, and then smirk. The expression will be enough to make the actor tremble.

Tom Cruise will load up the waiters and extras in the back of a delivery truck, telling them, "hold on to whatever you can. There's no seat belts back here after all." They will all look back at him, each dressed like Charlie Chaplin, with white mime make up on their faces. They will start to move in an exaggerated mime fashion. Cruise will close the rolling door. "Move it, Chachi!" he will yell as he gets on a nearby motorbike.

"My name is Scott!" Baio will reply.

"Nobody cares!"

News will break, three days late, that Barbra Streisand has died. Mullan and Kapoor, having had convinced the press to sit on the story so as to not overshadow the Oscars, will both sigh with dismay. "Do we need to do a quick edit of the memorial scroll?" Mullan will ask.

Kapoor will shrug. "Or we try to remember to add her to next year's edition."

Donald Trump will send out a series of six dozen tweets inside of seven minutes dragging Barbra Streisand over the coals.

The night will go on, with the schedule falling further and further behind.

John Travolta will look at his watch, trying to decide if it's time to call it a night. He's not getting any younger, after all, and he's not nominated this year for anything. 

The March of the Dead will unfold across the big screen, memorializing actors, directors, and others in the industry who have died in the last year. Some names will be omitted. Others will be met with a "who are they" reaction in the crowd. And one person on screen will in fact be in the audience, and get up off their chair and yell, "Hey! I'm not dead yet!"

Scott Baio will stop his truck a block short of the Dolby Theatre. He will get out, open the back door, and find the mimes running in circles. "Hey guys! It's time to go! Get out there already!"

Tom Cruise will watch them all clamber out and start moving in the general direction of the Dolby Theatre. He will check his watch, deciding on the best time to actually make his move and have his revenge.

The mimes will run down the street, and then start cartwheeling and somersaulting their way along the red carpet. Building security will call in to the event dispatch to advise of the situation. 

Tommy Lee Jones and Marisa Tomei will hear the news over their ear pieces, and will wonder if this is some kind of distraction.

While building security does their best to shuffle the mimes off the red carpet and down the street, Tom Cruise will start up his motorbike, revving hard, speeding down the street, knocking Scott Baio off his feet, heading to the red carpet.

The winner of the Best Actor will be announced. Leonardo DiCaprio will already be on his feet, believing he has won, but then hear someone else's name. This will infuriate him, and he will walk down the aisle towards the stage as the winner accepts the Oscar. "This is an outrage!"

Jones and Tomei will start moving onto the stage.

Cruise will burst into the auditorium. He will jump off his motorbike, which will crash into the audience, adding several names to next year's March of the Dead. He will get up, run down the aisle, heading for the stage, where DiCaprio is yelling at the winner of the Best Actor Oscar.

Cruise and DiCaprio will be yelling at each other and bickering about who's the better actor. The presenter and the winner for the Best Actor Oscar will be looking on, rolling their eyes and looking exasperated. 

Tommy Lee Jones and Marisa Tomei will close in on the pair. Tomei will tap DiCaprio on the shoulder. He will turn and find himself face to face with the object of his fear and agony. "Not you!" 

"Yes me," she will say, and throw a hard punch, breaking his nose.

Jones, meanwhile, will start out by breaking Tom Cruise's arms.

After the annual beatdown of Tom Cruise and Leonardo DiCaprio, both will be removed from the auditorium by paramedics, as well as police, who want to have a word with Tom Cruise about the multiple casualties and the people down the block who have previous PTSD related to mimes and had it all unleashed thanks to his underlings.

The Oscars will conclude, seventeen hours past their expected end time. Stars will leave the auditorium, feeling like they haven't slept in days. They will be met by questions from the paparazzi. "What do you have to say about Barbra Streisand dying?"

Tomei and Jones will feel refreshed and pleased with themselves. "That was fun," Tomei will say.

Jones will nod. "Same time next year?"

Somewhere in Hell, the Devil will send Barbra Streisand's soul back to her body, rather than put up with her for an eternity just yet. He can wait another ten years until the boys from engineering have the Silent Room ready. She will wake up in a morgue, having no memory of what happened to her for the last three days. And she will be angry.

At a local hospital, casualties from the night will be treated. Scott Baio will be wondering how he'll pay a hospital bill when he hasn't worked in twelve years.

Cruise will find himself feeling very uncomfortable as a doctor and nurse work on him. He will be in a neck brace, with both arms in body casts, multiple facial contusions, and broken ribs. Police will be advising him he needs a lawyer. "I don't need a lawyer," he will reply back. "Do you know who I am?"

The one cop will say to the other, "Look, Harry, we've got someone who doesn't know who he is."

In another room, Leonardo DiCaprio will be moaning while being treated by two nurses and a doctor. He has sustained facial damage, a broken leg, broken arms, multiple bruises, and unresolved PTSD. "She broke my nose! Again! She broke it! My beautiful nose! Marisa Tomei causes pain!!!!!"

The Mysterious Case Of The Overblown Ego

 The Oscars are coming up this weekend. I would, of course, rather crawl through a kilometer of broken glass than watch the ceremonies. That said, it is my tradition to ridicule the entire thing each year by saying how the event should go, and of course referencing my previous continuity on the entire thing. Enjoy!

Four days before the ceremony actually begins, people will have been camped out outside the Dolby Theatre in Los Angeles. They are looking for photo op and autograph opportunities. They will pass the time gossipping with each other about the nominees, annoying nearby businesses with washroom requests, and giving the local food delivery industry a big boost.

With the show being broadcast once again on ABC, the network president will receive a visit from producers Katy Mullan and Raj Kapoor, returning again to the job. They solemnly promise that this time, the event will be on time. The network president will remain dubious of that.

Conan O'Brien, hosting the ceremonies, will be busy with a team of writers on his opening monologue in the days in advance, hoping to score a few easy laughs.

Three days prior to the ceremony, an annual tradition will be underway at a local mortuary. Morticians will be doing the final touch ups on the body of Jack Nicholson. The legendary actor died several years ago at an Oscars ceremony, and has left strict instructions in his will that his body always be in attendance in the front row at the Oscars. After multiple embalmings, the morticians will be wondering how long this can go on.

Mullan and Kapoor will meet with the producers of the Razzies in a top secret endeavour to ensure Barbra Streisand won't attend this year's Oscars. The Razzies producers, amused by the idea being proposed, will agree to it.

Conan will have put the last touches on his monologue, finding the right balance of smarm and charm.

In the offices of his psychologist, Leonardo DiCaprio will be attending a session. There will be much to be discussed. His inability to commit in a relationship. His eagerness not to date any woman over 26. His overwhelming fear of Marisa Tomei. The therapist will ask at one point, "have you considered not attending the Oscars?"

At home, Tom Cruise will make some calls, looking to gather a crack team of operatives to get himself into the Oscars, despite that restraining order forbidding him from attending. First on his list will be Scott Baio, the washed up actor. "All right, Chachi, listen up," Cruise will tell him.

"I did more parts than Chachi," Baio will point out.

"Shut up, Chachi!"

The night before, the Razzies will be held, honouring (or dishonouring) the worst of the year in films. A surprise announcement will be made on stage. Barbra Streisand is being given the Lifetime Razzie as Most Annoying And Overrated Actor And Singer Of All Time. A montage of Streisand in film, as well as footage of her yelling at people, will be shown on screen at the theatre.

The announcement will go viral on social media. Within five minutes, Streisand's agent will call her at home to warn her of what's exploded on the web. When Streisand, possessor of the biggest ego in Hollywood, hears that she's been awarded a Razzie, she will first start screaming a deafening scream, horrified by the disrespect. And then she will collapse. Paramedics will be called.

The day of the ceremony, Jack Nicholson's corpse will be installed in the first row at the Dolby Theatre. Mullan and Kapoor will speak with the team of seat fillers assigned to sit around him, well paid for the job. "I know it's morbid, but the guy's will was specific, and we have to go through with it," Kapoor will say.

Mullan will add, "besides, it's just embalming fluid."

Still banned from attending the Oscars, Will Smith will be at home, watching the pre-show chatter in his living room. Since that fiasco involving slapping Chris Rock, his life has never been the same. His wife, Jada Pinkett-Smith, will be too busy to console him, being busy upstairs banging the gardener.

Barbra Streisand will be in hospital, still unconscious. Doctors and nurses will be glad for this, because they've dealt with her shrill temper tantrums on previous occasions. "Let's keep her heavily sedated," one will recommend, answered with nods from everyone else.

John Travolta will be busy getting ready at home, despite having had not appeared in anything remotely Oscar worthy in years. Satisfied that he's managed the bow tie properly, he'll nod to himself in the mirror and say, "showtime, Jamie Tedesco."

Jennifer Lawrence will finish getting ready at home, still wondering to herself if she should just spontaneously trip at the Oscars or plan it out for the right moment. This is, after all, her secret kink- tripping in public on Hollywood's biggest night of the year.

Mullan and Kapoor will speak with their designated enforcers, Tommy Lee Jones and Marisa Tomei, back again for another go around. Tomei and Jones will promise to keep things in line. They will stipulate that this does not include keeping the run-time down. "That's your job," Tomei will insist.

People will start arriving for the red carpet. Entertainment reporters will rush up to them, asking who designed what they're wearing.

Bjork will turn up, despite having nothing to do with the Oscars, and be wearing a mix of Doc Marten boots, ripped jeans, camo-pattern chemise, and a hat that looks like it's been through a blender. Fashionistas will call her a cutting edge genius of style.

Tom Cruise will be finishing up his master plans of how to get into the Oscars this time. It will involve motorbikes, Scott Baio, and a team of waiters and bit part actors. Gathered in a secret warehouse location a short distance from the Dolby Theatre, they will be going over their plans. Baio will interrupt, "but what if..."

"Shut up, Chachi!" Cruise will snap at him.

John Travolta will turn up at the red carpet, smiling in that addled way of his. "It's so good to be here," he'll say to an entertainment reporter. "After the Las Abelianos fires of the last few weeks, it's been a tough time for all of us, and we need to celebrate the best that Hollystone has to offer."

The entertainment reporter, too dumb to recognize that Travolta keeps getting names wrong, including places now, will simply gush.

Leonardo DiCaprio will arrive at the ceremony with the latest model he's been dating, all of 24 as fits his pattern. The fact that he's twice her age is irrelevant to him. He will look around, feeling anxious and uneasy. And then his eyes will fall upon the enforcers down near the stage. Tommy Lee Jones and Marisa Tomei will be in conversation. DiCaprio, remembering the frequent beatdowns he has sustained at the hands of Tomei, will start trembling. Tomei will look up through the seating and spot him. She will smile, point at him, and draw a finger across her throat as a threat, or a promise.

"Oh, God, she's going to kill me," he'll mutter.

The Oscars will start late, a harbinger of the entire night to come. Conan O'Brien will come out on stage, smile in that delirious smug way of his, and start things off by making fun of many people. 

Somewhere else, the ABC president will be wondering how far past the program will go past its runtime.

At home, Will Smith will be shaking his head. "I should have been there. It should have been me walking that aisle and mugging for the cameras. But instead I'm at home. No kids around, because they hate me. And a wife I'm barely married to who's never around. Where did things go so wrong?"

Upstairs, Jada will be too busy shagging her chauffeur.

The first award will be given out for the night. The winner will start making a speech, discreetly interrupted by the orchestra. They will point at the conductor and say, "no, we're not doing that. I've got some people to thank." This will set the tone for the rest of the ceremonies, with Mullan and Kapoor making side bets as to how long this whole thing is really going to go on.

In Las Vegas, bookies will be doing brisk business taking bets on when the Oscars ceremony will actually end.

Tom Cruise will be giving a final briefing to his Mission Impossible team as to his expectations and timing of this year's Oscar insertion. The fact that Scott Baio is the only other survivor of such previous insertions should disturb the team of waiters/ bit part actors/ collateral damage, but it doesn't.

One of the seat fillers around Jack Nicholson will find themselves wondering if the dead actor just moved.

James Brolin, cursed to be husband of Barbra Streisand, will be in the hospital sitting and waiting, wondering how bad the cluster tantrum will be when his wife wakes up and learns she's missed the Oscars again.

The first reference to the Hollywood fires of the night will be made by Meryl Streep while presenting an award.

John Travolta will nod and mutter to the person sitting next to him, "Molly Sutton knows what she's talking about."

The night will carry on. Mullan and Kapoor will look at their watches, and realize they're now an hour behind their expected time. They will wonder if they'll ever be called back to do another Oscars. They will decide that can't be a bad thing.

Leonardo DiCaprio will be in his seat, feeling overwhelming dread. From time to time his eyes will wander to the object of that dread. Marisa Tomei, looking so innocent and kind, but experience has taught him to be terrified of her. He subconsciously checks his nose, which she has broken before. "Calm, Leo, calm," he'll tell himself.

"What was that?" his date will ask him.

"Nothing, Katie," he will reply.

John Travolta will notice the tension of DiCaprio, and tell the person sitting next to him, "Lothar Daggett needs to learn inner peace." 

Tom Cruise will look himself in the mirror. A television broadcast of the Oscars will be going on nearby. It's too early, he knows. He must choose the right time to unleash his Mission Impossible. "You're the greatest, Tom, the greatest. The best there ever was. Everyone who says different is jealous of your greatness. And tonight we'll show them..."

Chris Rock will take the stage to announce a winner. His first words will be accompanied by a wave. "Hi, Will, hey, Jada, are you enjoying watching at home?" This will be accompanied by a grin. The audience will applaud, because let's face it, he deserves it.

Will Smith, watching at home, will start crying.

Jada will be upstairs banging her personal trainer.

The March of the Dead will be unleashed. Images of those in the film industry who died in the last year will be shown on screen and on televisions around the world. Famous actors and directors will be applauded. Cinematographers and designers and special effect wizards who have died will be met by a collective 'who the hell is that' response from the audience. 

Somewhere, a long retired screenwriter will sigh with dismay and tell his wife, "Honey, the Academy seems to think I'm dead."

John Travolta will shake his head when an image of Donald Sutherland appears on screen. "That Delbert Salinger was a really good actor."

The night will drag on. Cruise will be biding his time, watching the telecast, waiting for what he feels is the right time to show himself. One of the waiters will walk over and ask him if he can get a part in the next Mission Impossible. "Silence, minion!" Cruise will tell him.

Little does the waiter know that in a little while, none of this will matter, that he won't be able to tell anyone how curt Cruise is.

Two acting nominees from the same film will break out into a fight when one of them wins in their category, while the other one didn't in theirs, live on stage. The fight will be broken up by Jones and Tomei, who will drag both of them off stage. 

Conan O'Brien will announce to the audience that there's a correction to the March of the Dead. It seems that one of the screenwriters is in fact still alive, and apologies to him and his family and all of that. Because he's a screenwriter, no one will care.

When going to the stage to present an Oscar, Jennifer Lawrence will trip.

Cruise will tell his team that now is their time to make their move. A rolling door will be opened up. Ten people will mount motorbikes for an epic stunt ride to the Dolby Theatre. Scott Baio will look over at Cruise, nod, and say, "this is fun!"

"Shut up, Chachi!" Cruise will snap back.

Tomei and Jones will be standing by backstage as Mullan and Kapoor speak with the two actors involved in the fight. Most of the producer's ire will be focused on the sore loser who started the whole thing and attacked the winner.

Cruise will lead his motley gang of Mission Impossible wannabes through the streets of Hollywood, closing on on his target, looking forward to getting to have his say.

One of them will get second thoughts about the wisdom of all this and veer off to the left and take a side street and drive away. Ten years from now, after his big break into Hollywood, he will be glad he decided not to go through with Tom Cruise's crazy plan.

It will be time for the naming of the Best Actor. Leonardo DiCaprio will notice the return of Marisa Tomei and Tommy Lee Jones from backstage. He'll feel a familiar dread return.

One block away, Scott Baio will make a mistake on his motorbike. While Tom Cruise will avoid the eight motorbike pile up that will ensue, Baio will be part of it, slamming into another one and sending all of the remaining waiters and bit part actors into a pile of wreckage just short of the red carpet. Cruise will stop his bike, look back, and yell, "You idiots!"

Baio, suffering from multiple contusions and broken bones, will say, "help me!"

Multiple gawkers will look on in astonishment as Cruise runs inside the theatre.

Leonardo DiCaprio will find it in himself to ignore that bad feeling in the pit of his stomach to get up as the actress presenting the Best Actor award starts to make the announcement. He will head down the aisle towards the stage. "Hey! I've got something I need to say!"

Jones and Tomei will see him coming, and both get themselves in position to intercept. This is what they've been waiting for all year.

Tom Cruise will burst into the theatre, looking like a maniac. "Stop the Oscars!" he will bellow.

Cruise will storm down the aisle, finding DiCaprio blocking his way. "Hey! I was going to talk first!" DiCaprio will protest.

"Nobody cares about you anyway, Leo," Cruise will snap back. Neither of them will notice the two forces of nature striding across the stage towards them as they bicker and argue.

Tommy Lee Jones will grab Cruise by the shoulder, turning him around. Cruise will briefly recognize the face of the man who keeps thrashing him every year before Jones hits him right in the face with a left hook. And then the real beatdown will begin.

Sensing danger, DiCaprio will turn, only to find himself face to face with Marisa Tomei, who will deliver a devastating punch to the face. The crack of his nose breaking again will become the talk of the Oscars again. And it's only the beginning.

The Oscars will wrap up, eight hours past its expected end time. Mullan and Kapoor will be dealing with their side bet as to how long it would actually last.

Barbra Streisand will wake up in hospital, finding out it's the next day and she missed the Oscars again.

Tom Cruise will be in hospital, having had sustained multiple cuts, a broken nose, broken ribs, and a hard kick to the groin. He will also be facing charges of violating a trespass order and criminal mischief, as three of his Mission Impossible team died in that motorbike pile.

And Leonardo DiCaprio will be undergoing treatment for multiple broken bones, including his nose, and internal bleeding. He will say over and over again, "Marisa Tomei hurt me! Again!!!"

Curse Of The Pumpkin Spice Latte

Fall is here. I have an image blog for the new season. Enjoy!