It’s fate. Helen Mirren has a bladder infection. From the minute we were briefed before the ceremony, I had a feeling she’d be in my section. Honestly, I was barely even listening when they said that Seth Rogen had strained his back and would be getting up often to stretch, or that Marissa Tomei had a touch of hemorrhoids. But when Mr. Margaret said “Helen Mirren,” I knew it was her bladder. It just had to be. I mouthed it along with him…”haasss aaaa bladddeerrr innnfeccttion.” It feels like slow motion now. I’ve had a bladder infection! Lots of them. I’m the perfect person to look after Helen’s seat! I’ll be there Helen, whenever you need me.
Is that Justin Bieber? I don’t even know what he’s doing here. He doesn’t make movies. OK, he made one movie, but still. It’s a disgrace. I’ve been in 15 movies. People still compliment me on my work in the third row of the classroom Russell Crowe taught at the beginning of A Beautiful Mind. He’s dozing off! Justin Bieber is dozing off! Little bastard. I’m taking his seat. I don’t care, I’m walking right over and telling him he doesn’t deserve to sit in — ooops. Mr. Margaret saw me. Reign it in, Cynthia!
Does Natalie Portman have to poo? Everybody, I think Natalie Portman has to poo! Oh no, wait, she was just shifting.
Don’t be shy, you can ask. “If I had to pick the single best person’s seat to fill, who would it be?” It’s OK, I get it all the time. My first choice is John Goodman, obviously, because his seat is always really warm and sometimes I find stray M&M’s in the cushion. Second is whoever came with Paul Giamatti. Am I right, ladies? Meow.
This may be Helen Mirren’s greatest performance yet. Looking at her, you would never know her her body is overrun with bacteria and infection. She was good as Queen Elizabeth, but she is great as a woman who doesn’t constantly have to pee. I’m going to remember this in acting class. God, I just wish I could touch her!!!
Oh goodness, Carl Reiner is trying to get up. No! Just stay there! I won’t fill in your seat. It’s smelly and it’s old. I’m not going! I don’t care!
Actually, Carl Reiner’s seat is surprisingly comfortable. For an old man, he generates a lot of body heat – wait. What is that?! Is that a dead skin flake?! G-ross. OH no. Helen looks upset. She’s looking around. I’m here Helen, I’m here! Stuck in stupid Carl Reiner’s stupid chair for the rest of my life. I should have some cranberry juice sent to her. Mr. Margaret?! Where the heck is Mr. Margaret? Probably having one his precious cigarette breaks. Makes me sick.
You know what Anne Hathaway, if I beautiful ripe lady boobs, I could host the Oscars too. Why don’t you do something that takes a little skill – like the Level 3 Mask Workshop at the Actor’s Intensive downtown? I’d love to see you simulate walking through a forest wearing nothing but a papier mache mask and some purple leggings. That’s called acting. Not taking off your bra shaking em all around.
It got tense when Mr. Reiner came back to his chair. I recognize that and will learn from the experience.
Oh my God, it’s happening. It’s finally happening! Helen Mirren is getting up from her seat to use the bathroom which is totally justified for a woman in her condition. I’m here. I’m ready. I will fill your seat with the nobility and sex appeal it has come to expect. But first I must tell you a few things. A few things I know you’ll understand and appreciate. Of course you will, how could you not?! It’s like our brains are one. Two sisters, lost in a sea of insanity. You’ll understand what’s wrong with Beiber, and Mr. Margaret, and the unjust challenges that a Level 4 Clowning and Mime workshop can present to a woman of our age. Let me touch you and we can absorb—wait, oh no! Who are these men? Why am I being grabbed? Helen, stop them. Security? I’m all the security you need. Helen pllllleaseeee, explain what we have! Helllen!