Mila appears in the September issue of Details magazine with a very sexy photo spread and hugely entertaining interview. I’ve added 2 HQ and 1 MQ from the new photo shoot to the gallery at Mila Kunis Central and a snippet of the interview below. I’ll try to get scans this weekend!

There are Hollywood starlets who specialize in being wispy, evasive, mysterious. Kunis is not one of them. “I walk really heavy,” she says when you finally shake hands, “and I talk really loud.” Here at the counter of Musso & Frank’s, the vintage grill on Hollywood Boulevard where she’s been ordering the same breakfast (bacon, two eggs over easy, and a stack of flannel cakes) since she was 9 years old, she is so bracingly approachable that you might momentarily forget that she’s, like, famous. She can tell you about shady corners in East L.A. where you’ll find pupusas that are slid to customers under bulletproof glass and “$2 tacos that are soaked in grease.” She was, for a while, so addicted to playing the video game World of Warcraft that she got all twitchy meeting up with folks in the real world—”I’d be like, ‘Okay, are we done yet? Because I’ve gotta go home. Like, I really gotta go.’” She appears to have no clue what brand of jeans she’s wearing. “You have to look at my ass and tell me,” she says, rising up from her stool, arching her gamine back, and leaning over the counter to provide a clearer view. She suffers from an eye disease called iritis—”If you become my friend, then it becomes eye-ar-rhea,” she says—and suggests that its similarity to glaucoma probably qualifies her for medical marijuana. Which leads her to this realization: “Oh my God, that would be the greatest story ever. What if our story’s all about you and I getting legal marijuana and getting stoned? That would be like our own version of a Harold and Kumar adventure.”

Video games. Greasy tacos. Wisecracks about scoring government-sanctioned weed. Meeting Mila Kunis gives you a glimpse of what might’ve happened if the Phoebe Cates character in Fast Times at Ridgemont High had somehow spawned a child with Jeff Spicoli. (”On top of all that,” MacFarlane says, “she’s a Star Trek nerd, which you don’t often see in somebody that hot.”) On the set of Extract, in which she plays the sneaky new temp at an extract factory, Kunis surprised director Mike Judge—the guy who first punctured the slacker consciousness with Beavis and Butt-head—by making knowing references to Rejected, a cult film by Don Hertzfeldt that Judge considers “one of the funniest animated shorts of all time.” For an underground-comix geek, this was like learning that Catherine Zeta-Jones has a library full of Pekar and Crumb. “As beautiful as Mila is,” Judge says wistfully, “you could believe that maybe she would cross paths with you in the real world.”

If Kunis, Macaulay Culkin’s girlfriend of seven years, comes across as the kind of ingénue who’d feel comfortable talking about bong hits and bottle rockets, it has served her well. Since her 1998 breakthrough in That ’70s Show, she’s become a natural casting choice for edgy, dude-friendly comedy like Family Guy and Judd Apatow’s Forgetting Sarah Marshall. “She has a rock-solid stomach when it comes to humor,” MacFarlane says. “She’s never refused to do a joke.” Only one conversational topic seems to make her wince: the chronic media drool over the tallest of her costars from ’70s. “Yesterday,” she says, “a woman asked me, ‘So! Was Ashton a prankster on set?’ I went, ‘Oh my God. For real?’ That’s when I know the interview’s going sour—when they ask me what it was like kissing Kutcher. The show’s been off the air for four years. It’s just no longer cute or funny.”

Beyond that? “It takes a lot to offend me,” she says. “I mean, I’m sensitive to certain things. I haven’t figured them out yet. But I’m sure they’re there.” There was a Family Guy skit three or four years back, for instance. “It was a whole musical number about prom-night Dumpster babies,” she says.

She laughs—a small, muffled heh-heh. Next comes a snort.

” . . . The skit is all about, like, young girls on prom night giving birth to babies and throwing them in Dumpsters. . . . ”

She laughs louder now. Slaps the counter with her hand.

“I said, ‘This is fucked up!’” Another snort. “You have to see it! There’s these little babies . . . these little umbilical cords . . . !” By now she’s lost it so completely that her shoulders are trembling; she places her forehead on the counter and waits a moment for the nitrous oxide to dissipate.

“I’m going to hell so fast,” she says. “Like, on an escalator. It’s going to be a straight shot. There’s not even going to be a stop in limbo.”

Last 5 posts by Britt

• Katherine Out for Lunch + Outtakes - November 22nd, 2009
• January @ Oceana Annual Partners Award Gala 2009 - November 22nd, 2009
• New Gallery Layout @ Joanna Garcia Network - November 21st, 2009
• January @ GQ 2009 Man of the Year Awards - November 20th, 2009
• 2009 US Weekly Fall Hot Hollywood Issue Party - November 20th, 2009