The Gretchen Mol voicemails.

I'm starting to see the therapeutic possibilities of this blogging activity! I've already got a mental stack of tidbits, ready to type your way, fine readers! As I continue to shape these electronic memoirs I'm sure the posts will grow more stalwart in substance and style, but for now please forgive the semi-rambling nature of these e-farts. What now? Ah!

I've had my share of scandals, but none is more infamous in the annals of Hollywood lore than my drunken voicemails to Gretchen Mol. Law prohibits me linking to the actual audio files here, but I can transcribe them...

(I left these on Gretchen's voicemail in 1998, not soon after she landed all nipply on the cover of 'Vanity Fair' -- you could open a can of salmon* just by placing it next to that glorious photo)

Gretchen! I want to Mol you. But not to death. I want to Mol you to love. (guttural noises)

(singing) My girlfriend has a first name, it's G-R-E-T-C, my girlfriend has a second name...and...more first name it's H-E-N-M-O-L...(various slurred comments about bologna)

I am so into you. You look like a sexy little pug. Little pug dog. I wanna put you in my kennel of love. You sexy little pug!

Gretchen Mole...poblano. Aaaaaaahhhh!!!

You can be my Mol. Infiltrate me and report back to your sexy spy masters.

You know what 'Gretchen' sounds like? Sex kitchen. And I'd like to cook up a 7 course meal of sexy delights in that sex kitchen...okay maybe sex kitchen is a bit of a stretch. Stretch...STRETCHEN! Stretchen Mol! There's a mole on my dick and it's stretchin'....HA!

(Barfing Noises) I (Barfing Noises) am (Barfing Noises) talking (Barfing Noises) while (Barfing Noises) barfing (Barfing Noises) and (Barfing Noises) no (Barfing Noises) one (Barfing Noises) else (Barfing Noises) can (Barfing Noises) do (Barfing Noises) this (Barfing Noises) I (Barfing Noises) am (Barfing Noises) so (Barfing Noises) cool.

I wanna go to the mall. The Mol. The Gretchen Mol. I am the first person to make that pun Gretchen! You know it to be true! I'd like to go to the Gretchen Mol and buy some...and buy an...orgasm. And orgasm as a present for my friend who is my penis.

(singing) Gretchen to know you, Gretchen to know all about you...

Gretchen! You're making a mountain out of my Mol hill!

I'd like to motorboat YOUR Mol...hills.

I'm gonna give you a MOL-a-tov cocktail. Of jizz.

WHACK-A-MOL! HA!

Oh heavy sigh. Gretchen would be fine, but it was too late to save my reputation. It would be weeks before I was allowed unsupervised access to my own phone.

*Great, now I have a craving for a salmon salad sandwich, on 19-grain bread. If you have not tried 19-grain bread, I recommend it highly. One slice will leave your colon as unoccupied as a Weight Watchers meeting during Ben & Jerry's free cone day.