I’m sorry everyone, but it’s over. It’s all over. Jessica Alba has officially left Hawaii and we will no longer be getting any more photographs of her frolicking on the beach with her coked-up boyfriend Cash. In fact, the only pictures I have for you today are the ones showing her at the airport shortly before her departure. And to make matters worse, she fully clothed too.

But before you all turn around and leave in disgust, I want you all to know that I did my absolute best in trying to keep Jessica in Hawaii and feel quite bad that I failed so miserably to do so. I guess I should have come up with an actual plan instead of just calling her anonymously and telling her that the entire continental United States was just destroyed by nuclear missiles. For a minute there, I think she actually believed me, but when she asked me “by whose missiles”, I foolishly answered “Iraq” and that’s when I think I lost her.

I did, however, get her back slightly by doing my best Jason Robards impression, but she still didn’t understand why I was calling her so I had to tell her that I was trying to reach Anthony Edwards and I must have gotten her by mistake. She believed me, of course, but only after I explained to her who the hell Anthony Edwards was and why the hell I would want to warn him of anything. Good point really.

From there, I told her that for her own safety she should put on her bikini and rush down to the beach as fast as possible. There she would find either Rock Hudson or Fred Astaire and they would tell her what to do next. I expected her to be there for quite a while, if not forever, considering that both men have been dead for some time.

But, once again, I managed to screw things up. This time by screaming into the phone and making a few dying sounds. I thought for sure it would add a bit more realism to the whole scenario instead of just hanging up. I was wrong.

What follows is an exact transcript of the end of that conversation:

Jessica: What was that?

Me: Me. I’m dying….

Jessica: How?

Me: A giant gorilla just bit my arm off and there is blood everywhere. It was green and mutated, probably from all the radiation. I tried to fight it off, but it was too big. Like King Kong if it was directed by James Cameron. Speaking of James Cameron, I always wondered how much time he actually spent on “Dark Angel”. Was he always on the set barking out orders, or did he just lend his name to the show to get people to watch it? I would guess the latter since he was probably too busy shooting all his underwater documentaries. Did you ever see any of those? They’re not very good. Well, they’re good in a film sense, but not very entertaining. Kind of like…

Jessica: ‘click’

Me: Hello?

Yeah, I know. I suck at making things up. But hey, I tried.