Huh, so THAT'S why you randomly interrupted that guy's speech during Oscar night? I dunno, I'm still not convinced what the fruitcake had to do with anything.
But, man, if that was me, I would have been so embarrassed I could have curled up and crawled into a hole.
You know, there's actually an interesting story about that. I was doing some... contract work for the U.S. government in a certain African country, the name of which I can not recall at this time, and I happened to run into a spot of trouble. I managed to dodge my pursuers in a large warehouse, sort of like the opening scene to the 4th Indiana Jones film. No, not the one with the fridge, the one with the warehouse. However, they closed back in one me, and I came to a dead end, with my only protection being crates upon crates of sex dolls made out of fried fly patties.
You know how you can go to hippy shops and pay 30 dollars for a low-quality bracelet or something that some African woman made? Turns out they also make sex dolls, and seeing as all the plastic is being used for the cheap trinkets put on the bracelets, they have to make do with fried flies, which are surprisingly durable. Anyway, I came up with a brilliant plan - I managed to cut a thin hole (more of an elongated oval, really) in the sex doll, and hide inside it. I'm very thin, you see. Only in retrospect have I realized that I could have just hid in the crates, but, ah well.
Unfortunately, though this tricked my pursuers completely, the urge to hid inside human-body-shaped things soon grew to a compulsion. The turning point happened when I hid myself inside an actual dead body. I knew I needed help. But, thanks to the fine folks of the Betty Ford Clinic, I'm a perfectly well-adjusted human being, who is not at all wearing someone else's skin right now.