Today's NY Times takes a look at Paramount's negotiations to upgrade its culinary offerings by allowing the company behind industry power-eatery The Grill to set up shop inside the walls of its Melrose lot. While some fear that the move might potentially compromise the old-school commissary charm of on-the-lot dining (i.e., watching your favorite executives eat mediocre food in bland surroundings), others think that the brand might create some heat at the Mount:

· Monday night music round-up: Chris and Rich Robinson at the Roxy; Denison Witmer and Ferraby Lionheart at the Hotel Café; Youth Group at Spaceland.
· You can never go wrong with a trip to Largo to visit Paul F.Tompkins and take in his eponymous show.
· Literary wunderkind (that's German for "young, absurdly successful writer who pisses off people with five figures of MFA loan debt") Jonathan Safran Foer reads from Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close at Dutton's in Brentwood.

Defamer is committed to turning every seemingly innocuous, completely inconsequential celebrity-on-civilian interaction into an impromptu photo shoot via our network of privacy-eradicating, hidden-camera-wielding operatives. Says the spy who provided the above pic:

The US Weekly blog has the exclusive on the weekend marriage of Entourage's Kevin Dillon to his pregnant fiance Jane Stuart at a Vegas wedding chapel. Dillon sprang for the Elvis Hound Dog Special, a $349 package that included the musical stylings of his very own Elvis impersonator:

Reports are trickling in about a bloodbath/exodus at Paradigm on Friday afternoon, which saw the firing/personal empowerment of some agents and support personnel. An operative tells us that the initial word on the layoffs is being replaced with a kinder, gentler message stressing the possibility of career advancement through sudden job loss:

The Televisionary blog was curious about David Rosenthal, the guy taking over as showrunner of Gilmore Girls from beloved series creator Amy Sherman-Palladino, who is leaving the series along with her writer-producer husband Daniel Palladino. (The official story: They wanted a multi-year contract, but studio Warner Bros. would only offer them one year.) As it turns out, Rosenthal is a curious choice to guide the mother-daughter story for multiple reasons, not the least of which being the time, according to a quoted LAT magazine article, he abruptly quit his gig at Spin City and divorced his wife so he could focus all his energies on writing and mounting a creepy, mysogynistic play about his obsessive desire to sleep with Heidi Klum:

· Stacey Snider gets her feet wet at her new DreamWorks gig by acquiring the rights to the French comedy The Valet for the Farrelly Brothers to remake, an act of unoriginality clearly meant to upstage Paramount boss Brad Grey's own lack of vision. [Variety]
· At the National Association of Broadcasters' Digital Cinema Summit, director/evangelist James Cameron says digital 3D projection will save cinema, getting "people off their butts and away from their portable devices and...back in the theaters where they belong." Somehow we don't think the ability to see The Benchwarmers in three dimensions is going to solve Hollywood's problems. [THR]
· Forbes magazine's media executive salary survey reveals that Tom Freston, Les Moonves, Bob Iger, and Rupert Murdoch have way too much fucking money. [Variety]
· Wherever possible, the eco-friendly entertainment industry makes sure its garbage is dumped into theaters, not landfills. [THR]
· A strike by Commie-leaning French unions might disrupt the Hollywood-led capitalist orgy at the Cannes film festival, but in the end, things will probably work out, with the only rioting being conducted by Tom Hanks hair purists angry about the actor's ridiculous Da Vinci Code mullet. [Variety]

Today's Page Six gives itself over to fauxteur/current Lindsay Lohan daddy-issue manifestation Brett Ratner's hacky charms, featuring both a story about the director's semi-embarrassing, alleged re-gifting of a blanket to his new ladyfriend, and a blind item asking, "WHICH young hotshot director lost a big superhero movie project because he pulled a gun on one of the producers?", a question answered nearly three years ago in Esquire:

Julia Roberts is reportedly down in the dumps, after her mostly panned Broadway debut (the NY Times likened her to a "lamppost") failed to provide her with an instant legit pedigree. To the rescue comes legendary support-giver-to-the-very-famous Oprah Winfrey, who showed up on the actress' doorstep with Oprah's Best Friend™ Gayle King for an "Up With Julia!" party:

You're a little sore this morning after your Earth Day celebration in the back of the Prius with those two vegans you met at the rally (Which rally, you ask? The one with the hippies, wiseass.) worked some muscle groups you haven't used in a while. And as you know by now, there is no better analgensic than the weekend box office numbers.

· The Miracle Baby has arrived. Look busy.
· And the ensuing plagues: Bees, more bees, and, uh, Plague™ brand plague.
· A good time to wonder aloud about celebrity baby naming.
· Charlie Sheen's "Father of the Year" mug smashed into a thousand little pieces.
· United 93's website gets hacked by Turkman_93, and their star hijacker may not make it to the premiere.
· One down, one to go.
· Amanda Scheer Demme calls Teddy's "my Pulp Fiction...a masterpiece," and we can't shake the image of a gigantic hypodermic needle being plunged into her heart.
· The Pellicanist: John McTiernan enters a guilty plea, will be a "cooperating witness." Good luck connecting the Burkle dots.
· The Colin Farrell sex tape dispute is finally settled: Colin gets it twice a week and alternating weekends.
· Brian & Gigi 4-ever R-over.
· Nick Lachey is still smarting from marriage downsizing.
· Julia Roberts sucks: LIVE!
· Friends writers cleared of any wrongdoing, except seasons 4 through 8.
· Paris Hilton snaps the pole.

Charlie Sheen's already responded with a statement about estranged wife Denise Richard's abuse/drug/gambling/bisexual online porn allegations (short version: divorce "smear campaign"), but all this nastiness can't be good for Sheen's new line of clothing for girls (or as Gawker points out, People's coverage of tomorrow's Sheen Kids launch party). They might not be able to move product to scandalized parents, but there's always opportunities for nimble entrepreneurs willing to make their own breaks, who could easily resell Sheen's soon-to-be overstocked kiddie skirts to the pigtailed, clean-shaven talent pretending to be jailbait that allegedly got him into this mess in the first place.

Friday
· Music Round-Up: Gram Rabbit at The Echo; Dinosaur Jr and Comets on Fire at the Troubadour (hell yeah); Buckethead at the Henry Fonda (double hell yeah).
· Thank you, Flavorpill, for this very important note about an exhibit at Bergamot Station tonight: "The Dolls to the Walls event includes an open bar."
Saturday
· More music of the hellyeah variety: The Elected with Silversun Pickups at the El Rey; Matthew Sweet with Susanna Hoffs at the Roxy; Dinosaur Jr and Comets on Fire at the Troubadour (again).
· The Aero salutes the recently deceased Chris Penn with a double feature of Reservoir Dogs and The Funeral. Nice Guy Eddie will live forever.
· The UCB Theatre's resident R. Kelly deconstructionists, Aziz Ansari and Paul Scheer, dive deeply into the greatest and most impenetrable text of our time, Trapped in the Closet.
Sunday
· We don't need to tell you who David Sedaris is. He's at the Long Beach Terrace Theater doing his thing.
· Sunday Comedy brings the joys of Paul F. Tompkins and Morgan Murphy to Room 5.

You may recall a minor international brouhaha back in December, after noted Kazakh goodwill ambassador Borat found his official website was disappeared by Kazakhstan's unamused government. (The website lived on, however, at borat.tv.) Now, the daughter of the President of Kazakhstan has come out in defense of the celebrity cow-puncher:

Time to put your blind item guessing game answers out of their misery. But first, go for another moonlit stroll with One Randy 'n' Rockin' Blind Vice:

The shit has officially hit the fan (and by "shit" we mean the abuse shit, the drug shit, the gambling shit, and the online ambisexual jailbait porn shit) in the Charlie Sheen and Denise Richards divorce proceedings, as the actress has filed a mindblowing declaration today detailing the disintegration of their marriage. The Smoking Gun has the document, summarizing the "we knew Charlie was kind of a sickie, but my god" contents thusly:

Hollywood PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers. Send yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let everyone know about the night you saw Keanu Reeves show up overdressed for a pajama party with a hammered blond on his arm.

Good Morning America film critic Joel "I loved it!" Siegel rounds up the coming summer blockbusters on ABCNews.com, noting that the average budget comes in at around $160 million, or $80 million per Sonny Crockett beer boob. He also makes the following observation about a creative bit of studio counterprogramming:

Join us as we raise our voices in unison to celebrate the munificence of this week's sponsors, who would happily supply us with ten Miracle Babies should our upcoming movie premieres demand the attention. If you'd like to advertise on Defamer and feel the warmth of our suspicious love, see this page.