Go on, indulge yourself for a second: HOLY SHIT BRITNEY SPEARS POOPED OUT A BABY BOY!!!! Mother Nature has turned her back on the human race!

• There's a definitive turning point in the life cycle of any given celebrity, that moment when his or her star has officially fallen from its peak and begins its ugly, if not slow, descent towards irrelevance. That moment unequivocally is the commando crotch shot, and today it belongs to a disturbingly hairless Lindsay Lohan, who's never been so glad those damn baby pictures popped up when they did. [WWTDD]
• Meanwhile, the cost of access to that bald firecrotch is having Lohan as a very bitchy girlfriend. [Page Six]
• And finally, Lohan's incarcerated father asks fellow inmates to please stop rubbing 'em out to pictures of his little girl. [Lowdown (2nd item)]
• K-Fed admits that life with his wife, Britney Spears, is really difficult. Especially when he has to sleep with her. [TMZ]
• Karl Rove loved his big, gay stepdad. [R&M]
• Breaking: Rich people loan other rich people their stuff, free of charge. Related: Rich people like the Hamptons. (That one's breaking, too.) [Page Six]

Realizing, like Survivor, that their own, aging CBS series could use a little free publicity by way of a headline-grabbing controversy, the producers of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation wisely opted out of launching a spinoff entitled CSI: Black People, and instead cast Vanilla Ice-channeling couchhusband Kevin Federline in a guest-starring role. (Plot details are under wraps, though we hear he plays a murder victim ironically strangled to death in his sleep with his own wife-beater by the wealthy dimwit he's been sponging off for years.) Arrangements had been made to give People the exclusive non-story, but a leak occurred, resulting in a stern missive from CBS' publicity department being issued to the entire "CSI Team." A Defamer operative forwarded the e-mail to us:

· We're pretty sure that when Mr. Internet first drew up his plans for the webosphere, he envisioned it solely as a means through which people could place bids on items of food half-eaten by pop stars and their layabout husbands.
· The first wave of inevitable Redstone Vs. Cruise t-shirts arrives, with Team Redstone apparel now on sale on CafePress. Next up: the Team Cruise "I wasn't fired, I quit" shirt.
· The Reeler takes a look at the Jewish Babe Renaissance led by Rachel Weisz, Natalie Portman, and Scarlett Johannson. Please insert your own joke about how this might affect Mel Gibson's feelings about the Chosen People.
· It's no Stuff On My Cat or Cats in Sinks, but RecordStoreCats isn't bad—and has a much higher potential for feline-induced motion sickness.
· William H. Macy on Lindsay Lohan and others of her inconsiderate, entitled, late-to-set ilk: "There is not an apology big enough in the world to have to make 150 people scramble. It's nothing but disrespect. And Lindsay Lohan is not the only one. A lot of actors show up late as if they're God's gift to the film. It's inexcusable, and they should have their asses kicked."

Not everything backstage at the Teen Choice Awards was flowing as smoothly as in front of the cameras, where Kevin Federline was boasting in impressive iambic pentameter of his mad skills at spending his wife's money. The Us Weekly blog reports that co-host Jessica Simpson approached Britney Spears, the woman whose career drippings she once hungrily lapped off the TRL studio floor, and, mesmerized by Spears' gigantic belly-melon and accompanying pair of swollen milkfruits, asked her onetime rival if she could kiss the delicious outer shell of her latest happy accident. Spears responded with the fiercest, twangiest "Hell, no!" she could muster, a battle-cry for overly manhandled, extremely pregnant women everywhere. Perhaps it was a politically inadvisable maneuver, but it was the honest, instinctive response of a defensive mother who was aware Simpson had just spent the last week starving herself to fit into a dress, and who could very well have been hungry enough to gnaw through her protective epidermal layers and devour the nutrient-rich fetal contents within.

Snakes on a Plane wasn't the only opportunistically marketed entertainment product riding a groundswell of semi-ironic obsession to suffer through an underwhelming debut this weekend. On last night's Teen Choice awards, world-famous househusband and reformed background dancer Kevin Federline donned his best white-trucker-hat-and- matching-Oxford ensemble for his first-ever public performance. The predictably lip-synced affair was notable mostly for the aspiring rapper's maddening refusal to stumble into the on-stage pyrotechnics and attempt to put out the flames engulfing him by increasing the intensity of his Roger Rabbit steps, an admirable, if ill-advised, refusal to interrupt his flow. In the absence of an accidental K-Fed immolation, there really wasn't much to hold the attention once Britney Spears completed her introduction and removed her overflowing, pregnancy-enhanced cleavage from view, but if pressed for a favorite moment from the performance, we'd have to say it's when the bewifebeatered guy in the front row, presumably a member of Federline's posse, leaps out of his seat and offers some approving fist-pumps at the end of the song, which made our own wildly enthusiastic gesticulations celebrating Federline's triumph seem somewhat uninspired.

We're not exactly sure what connection there is between a white-trash guy whose only contribution to society was the rapid double-impregnation that finally broke the career of a fading pop star and Liberace's rooftop mausoleum of lavish, extreme kitsch, but some event planning visionary obviously connected those dots to decide to host Kevin Federline's Teen Choice Awards party in the deceased entertainer's Hollywood penthouse. The invitation optimistically indicates that the party will rage on from 9 p.m. to 1 a.m., but we imagine that Liberace's ghost and the phantom faggle he's having over to cackle at Federline and his friends will quickly tire of the soiree, and the guest of honor's impromptu performance of "PopoZao" will be cut short by a hail of candelbras rained down upon him by the gay poltergeists unimpressed with his musical abilities.

• Oh thank God, Brandon Davis is fucked up again. The drunken oil heir climbed on stage at a Miami club and told the crowd he'd written a special new song called "Firecrotch," just for Lindsay Lohan. Hope it's a B-side on Paris Hilton's single. [Page Six]
• Britney Spears to name her second child "Accident." That is, at least until the poor thing gets eaten by K-Fed's pet sharks. [Scoop]
• Jessica Simpson fires her agent after the poor soul dared to get in a fight with her father, Joe Simpson. [Us Weekly]
• This one's a stretch, but: Christie Brinkley's estranged, philandering husband Peter Cook is such a bad man, his son had to miss a Little League game. [Page Six]
• Howard Stern couldn't attend the funeral for his producer's father because girlfriend Beth Ostrosky broke her ankle. Whore. [R&M (2nd item)]

· A tip from chapter 5 of Britney Spears' forthcoming book on child-rearing, Lookit Me, I'm A Moms, Y'all!: To make sure that your second child feels special, go on the record saying that he or she was just an accident.
A tip from chapter 3 of Lindsay Lohan's book on how to succeed in the movie business, Fuck You, I'll Show Up On Set Just As Soon As I'm Good And Ready And My Body Is Done Rejecting The Shit I Don't Remember Drinking Last Night, Mr. Bossy Asshole A.D., And Who The Fuck Do You Think You Are, My Father?: Once your spotty attendance record and overall lack of professional courtesy become an issue, bring in some cupcakes!
You know what, now that you mention it, it does seem weird that Tom Cruise is always rescuing people. He's just a lucky guy, we guess.
Probably not a day goes by where we don't look down at our What Would Stephen Baldwin Do? bracelet while contemplating an important life decision and then make the right choice—especially when deciding whether or not to have a three-way with God.

• Continuing in our Katie Couric Is the Center of Attention day, it seems that CBS will be offering Couric fewer perks than she received at the Today show. That is, assuming one considered expensing Ann Taylor knits a "perk" in the first place. [Page Six]

• K-Fed penetrates Britney for the money. As if there would be any other reason? [Scoop]

• After five straight nights of intense partying, Jennifer Garner collapses from "heat exhaustion" on the set of her new movie. [Gatecrasher]

• Charlie Sheen and Denise Richards have agreed to terminate a restraining order that prevents Sheen from coming within 300 feet of his children. Now Richards will allow him to admire his babies at the intimate distance of 295 feet. [TMZ]

• James Woods realizes his 20-year-old whore is a 20-year-old whore. [Gatecrasher]

• Brad Pitt drops off his adopted children, Maddox and Zahara, at the Warner Bros. lot daycare, where they play with the dirty children of common studio secretaries. [Page Six]

• Today in Rush & Molloy: Celebrities looove ping-pong! OMFG! Seriously though. McFly? August blows, yes, but isn't somebody out there fucking someone else? They don't even need to be that famous, really. Just spare us the ping-pong. [R&M]

• Deposed View co-wench Star Jones' condo is "off the market" for unspecified reasons. If we were to hazard a guess as to why the place didn't sell, it might have something to do with Star refusing to leave during showings, locking herself in her pantry with a hearty supply of Double Stuff Oreos. [TMZ]
• After a brief reunion, Paris Hilton and Starvos Niarchos have a fight via text message — despite being at the same place at the same time. [Scoop]
• House of Sand and Fog director Vadim Perelman was recently charged with groping two Connecticut women; turns out he has a history of mistreating ladies. In January, Perelman took a woman back to his home only to throw a chair at her head. To be fair, she hadn't been sucking him off, so she kind of deserved it. [Page Six]
• Mischa Barton dates rich, British inbred. [Metro]
• Finally, someone understands what the people want: a 9/11 comedy! Alas, the idea came from Oliver Stone. [R&M]
• Did Peter Cook attempt to kill Christie Brinkley with carbon monoxide? [NYDN]
• Britney Spears feels like she's "been missing out on life...like, things!" It's an old video, but still very moving. [Superficial]
• Jennifer Lopez reportedly left the cast of Dallas after learning she'd be cast opposite John Travolta. She's a lot of things, but J.Lo is no man's beard, on-screen or off. [Page Six]

The Newark Bears, whose previous promotion (a "Bird Flu Awareness Night" featuring a chicken wing eating contest) caused much mirth in these quarters, are at it again: This Friday is Britney Spears Baby Safety Night. What does such an evening consist of? Full, hilarious details after the jump. We're almost considering going to Newark. But, you know, no.

There was a moment during Britney Spears' Dateline NBC interview when the singer, in the midst of rhapsodizing about her profound love for housecleaning and laundry, leaned into Matt Lauer and shared, "Yes, I have a maid that comes once a week, but she slacks a little bit." Now, another household staff member, a pool boy with musical aspirations, says he has also fallen victim to Frau Spears' exacting standards:

After successfully surviving a first pregnancy in which she ingested nothing but a shake made from Red Bull, Cheetos, and an occasional texture-additive handful of Funyuns, Britney Spears thought she had a pretty good handle on prenatal nutrition. But after a recent false labor in her second pregnancy necessitated a visit to the hospital and a lecture from some very unpleasant pointy-head types in labcoats, Spears had all her illusions about the baby-growin' properties of artificially colored and flavored orange cheese dust cruelly shattered:

• Yes, former N'Sync member Lance Bass — formerly known as the "one that wasn't Justin" — is out of the closet. Go and watch video footage of him being gay! [TMZ]
• After going into false labor, Britney Spears realizes she needs to "cut down on the Cheetos." She needed to go to the hospital for the tip-off? Wouldn't a mirror have sufficed? [Scoop]
• John Edwards sucks up to Russell Simmons for the African-American vote, accompanying him to his daily Jivamukti Yoga class. If there's one candidate we could tolerate in a downward dog, it would have to be Mr. Sunshine. [Lowdown]
• Tori Spelling won't even inherit a million dollars of her late father's $500 million estate. It's suspected that Tori's bitchtastic mother cut her out of her father's will, leaving poor Tori to survive on 90210 residuals and So NoTORIous peanuts. [Us Weekly]
• Christie Brinkley's philandering fourth husband Peter Cook once refused to give Alexa Joel, Brinkley's daughter with Billy Joel, a ride home at 11 PM. Cruel — god forbid she ride with her father at that hour. [Page Six]
• Madonna must shit only where no one has shit before: she requests a brand-new toilet seat, wrapped in plastic, at every venue where she performs. [R&M (last item)]
• B. Smith, "the black Martha Stewart" (is that an oxymoron?), is jockeying to replace Star Jones as the token woman of color on The View. [Page Six]

• Just like Britney Spears told Matt Lauer she wants to start her own magazine, houseboy Kevin Federline says he'd like to start a publication that "comes out after all the tabloids." He'd call it The Real, and we're already vying associate editor position. [R&M (last item)]
• Are Heath Ledger and Michelle Williams leaving Brooklyn? Fucking Ratner, driving away all the good celebs. [Daily Telegraph]
• Kirsten Dunst manages to not get wasted at a recent Chanel function. When free clothes are on the line, the girl knows to keep her shit together. [Page Six]
• Jessica Simpson isn't helping OK! magazine's circulation: her most recent cover sold less than Vaughniston and Britney issues. [Lowdown (2nd item)]
• The National Enquirer EIC David Perel thinks there's a conspiracy theory against the magazine, run by an evil multi-celeb terror cell and led by Britney Spears and Kate Hudson. [TMZ]
• Steely Dan emerges from obscurity to accuse the makers of You, Me and Dupree of stealing from their Cousin Dupree song. [Fox411]
• CBS quickly goes about the business of erasing Dan Rather from its history books. [Page Six]

Tired of being recognized merely as an opportunistic barnacle fused to his more famous wife's leg, Kevin Federline is busily putting the finishing touches on his debut album, "Playing With Fire," the project that coaxed him out of the background dancing shadows and is set to establish him as a major non-talent in his own right. Somehow, Federline has convinced the Fox network to let him close the Teen Choice 2006 awards with a performance of his debut single, "Lose Control." From USA Today:

• Look! Visual proof that Natasha Lyonne is alive, walking upright, not eating dogs, and looking a little thick. Dear God, is she with child? Or just pudgy? Either possibility, combined with the absence of visible sores on her face, suggests that Lyonne may be off the rock. Miracle of miracles. [Splash News]
• Columbia University is launching a full-color weekly magazine — to be edited by none other than Satan's spawn herself, Bee Shaffer. [Bwog]
• Donald Trump is seriously disappointed in Britney Spears. What fasincates us is that he had any hopes for her to begin with. [Trump University]
• Time Out defines and illustrates words like "crackberry, " "underboob," and "celebuskank" (representative example: Tara Reid, of course). Thanks, TONY — we don't know where we'd be without you. [TONY]
• Novelist Kathleen McGowan believes she is the living Da Vinci Code, a direct descendent of the union between Jesus and Mary Magdalene. We believe she's just thought of the best self-promotional pitch ever. [USA Today]
• Britain thinks we work too much. Agreed, but we have to pay for our dental insurance somehow. [Observer]
• Goldman Sachs getting into the hotel business? A Goldman Sex hotel might be more profitable. [Curbed]
• Ashton Kutcher needs to keep an eye on his second cousin. [The Oxford Project]
• Live right above Angela Chase, bump into Jordan Catalano in the elevator. [The Real Estate]
• It's not necessarily #2 at Us Weekly, but this might be just the job for Crazy Us Weekly Guy^TM. [Mediabistro]

• In an effort to prove herself as a serious actress, child star Dakota Fanning will appear naked and in a rape scene for the movie Hounddog. Also, this may be the first and only time Lloyd Grove succeeds in a jaw-dropping item. Way to go out with an extremely uncomfortable bang, buddy. [Lowdown]
• Britney Spears reveals her hidden literary talent, revealing on her website her secret passion for tigers. It's some of her best work, featuring multisyllabic words like "mesmerized" and "mysteriousness." [Page Six]
• Paris Hilton has feelings too, you know. When TMZ readers call her "an overused human condom," it hurts Hilton, who calls the comments "mean and sadistic." That's a big word, Paris — now try telling us what it means. [TMZ]
• "Somebody" hacks into Lindsay Lohan's BlackBerry and uses it to send all sorts of unfavorable messages to her friends. Seems as if young Hollywood is plagued by this sort of problem more than gonorrhea. [Page Six]
• 31 years later, Rolling Stone Keith Richards is pardoned for getting stoned in Memphis. [R&M (last item)]
• Haley Joel Osment is old enough to drive and get in an accident. [People]
• Daniel Baldwin is old enough to drive and get in an accident and have no one give a shit. [BBC]

A heavy-with-child and housebound Britney Spears has taken to journal writing again to pass the time, having updated the sparse "Love B: stream of consciousness" section of her website yesterday with a paean to the majesty of that most fearsome and beautiful of background props God's creatures, the tiger: