Hugh Made Me Love Hugh.

You know darlings, sometimes there are still traces of the Grand Old Hollywood. There certainly was yesterday, when Grauman's Chinese Theater immortalized Huge Jackman's hands and feet in cement, although those particular appendages of Huge's are not the one most worthy of immortalization. I would go for the one that gave Huge his name.



Or I would have gone for it, but that crazed delusional stalker who thinks she's married to him was there, undoubtedly carrying a concealed butcher knife. Huge is so afraid of her, that he even went through a "marriage ceremony" (wink, wink) with her a few years ago, to keep her from flipping out and going on a killing rampage. So deeply terrified of her is he, that he even lives with her, and has had several children by her, just to feed her fantasy of being "Mrs. Huge Jackman." The worst thing is, it's keeping us apart, and poor Huge pines for me. After all, the "Sexiest Man Alive" should be matched up with the Sexiest Woman Nearly-Alive. (Me)

Anyway, as you can see above and below, I was there to show this athletic star that I am his devoted athletic supporter. I am, after all, one of the few Old School Movie Stars still alive, and Huge is one of the few New School Stars who could pass for Old School. Watch him in the movie Australia, which I did last week. He's like a sexier Clark Gable.

Australia is better on DVD than in a theater because you have a fast-forward button. There's nothing wrong with the film that slicing an hour out of it wouldn't fix, losing that whole silly magic aboriginal boy plotline, and getting that skinny Kidman bitch out of the way. (In the sex scenes, her emaciated body kept hiding Huge's best bits!). But what would really improve the movie would be Huge taking off his clothes more, and by "more," I mean both more often, and more of his clothes.

As you can see, after planting his hands in the forecourt cement, he got a bit sloppy with me. well these things happen. I always say, "dirty hands; Filthy mind."

When it came time to plant Huge's big feet in the cement (You know what they say about men with big feet. They have big socks.), in honor of Australia I went down under and checked out his antipodes. As you can plainly see in these next two pictures, being immortalized at the Chinese Theater really got Huge "excited."

What happened in this next picture? Well, as a 111 year old woman who is known to take a small libation in the evening, after large libations all day, and before serious heavy drinking all night, I am not always completely steady on my heels. Frankly, I'm at my best with my heels over my head, not under. So I slipped in the wet cement and fell against Huge while my hands were still a bit cement-smeared. Oops. It was an accident I tell you, an accident! That it then happened four more times is mere coincidence, and that "Mrs. Huge Jackman's" insane accusations that I was throwing myself at her "husband" merely shows how persistently delusional she is. After all, if I'd really done it deliberately, I'd have shredded his shirt.

Meanwhile, here I am helping Huge clean his cementty hands by personally sucking the goo off of them. It was the least I could do, at least with that wacko "Mrs. Jackman" watching him like a hawk. Anyway, no one sucks goo off of male appendages with more skill than I.

It was a glamorous, old style day. Jay Leno was there hosting, but we enjoyed ourselves anyway. (Whenever I'm asked just how extremely old I am, I usually say, "I'm so old, I remember when Jay Leno was still funny.") In publicizing the imminent release of Huge's new film X-Men Origins: The Wolverino Man, (Don't get excited; "X-Men" is false advertising. It's not X rated at all, damn it!) which everyone on earth saw online three weeks ago (Odd way to release a film), this genuine, real thing, movie star from The Future (In Australia, it's always tomorrow. It's located in the future. It could be worse. It could be 1977 there, and 2009 here, like that crazy island on LOST.) was placed where he belongs, amongst Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy and Rock Hudson and Harrison Ford and Nelson Eddy and Fred Astaire. (Well, maybe not Nelson Eddy.) As the oldest star in California, I bestowed my blessings upon him. And inspected his muscles very closely. (A filthy job, but someone has to do it, so I unselfishly volunteered, even though it meant locking "Mrs. Jackman" in the projection booth.) Here his right bicep passes muster.

That, my darlings, is what a Star bicep looks like!

I'll be back recapping Survivor on The Huffington Post on Friday, undoubtedly being further appalled by the horrors of Voldecoach, Tyson the Nude Mormon, and snaky Stephen. Check it out.

Cheers darlings.