They've covered so much, and yet there's always more to say.
NAOMI: Where are we going, Nic? One moment I'm asleep in my souvenir Dick Tracy nightgown with matching armwarmer set, the next you're leading me down a red carpet.
NICOLE: Oh Naomi hush! We're best girlfriends, aren't we? Remember growing up in Oz?
NAOMI: But I'm cold and I'm tired and I need a bra. Where's Liev?
NICOLE: Just smile, mate! Think of the good old days, when we threw shrimps on the barbie and surfed for hours. Don't you love this daring color?
NAOMI: No. You're scaring me. And your bow reminds me of the ghost story we used to tell as schoolgirls, about the beheaded woman who is kept together with a ribbon.
NICOLE: Honestly Naomi, I don't know what you're talking about.
NAOMI: That bow is so ridiculous it must have purpose beyond mere fashion. Show me your neck, Nic. Show me your neck or I'll scream.
NICOLE: Shut up darling, you're still dreaming. Now go remind Ryan Seacrest what a sweet and supportive friend I am, or I'm telling people that you're fat, not pregnant.
[ed. note: of course, 7 minutes after I posted this, Ms. Kidman showed up on Go Fug Yourself after all. Ah well, the more mockery the merrier.]