In case you've fallen down a well (in which case we thank you for still reading this site via your mobile phone or PDA): Stacey Snider leaves Universal to become CEO and co-chair of DreamWorks. Successor at Universal TBD. [Variety, THR]
Vince Vaughn might pop his $20 million cherry by re-teaming with Wedding Crashers director David Dobkin for Fred Claus, the story of Santa's loser brother. With that kind of paycheck, Vaughn inches ever closer to the day he doesn't need to date Jennifer Aniston anymore to help his career. [Variety]
· Former The WB wonderboy Jordan Levin helps form Generate, a management-production firm that has already partnered up with MTV to ensnare teenagers by developing content for every media platform that currently divides their split-second attention spans. [THR]
It's not quite Aquaman: The Motion Picture, but James Cameron continues his love-affair with the mysteries of the deep by signing up to direct The Dive, the tragic story of freediver Francisco "Pipin" Ferraras. [Variety]
· The Dancing with the Stars finale does nice Sunday night numbers for ABC. Intrigued by the Nielsen success, the network will test its theory that *anything* can succeed in the Desperate Housewives timeslot, scheduling a bold relaunch of Emily's Reason's Why Not for the weekend after the Oscars. [Variety]

As if featuring club staple Jeremy Piven on smarm-overload in its nightlife issue weren't enough entertainment for a single magazine, Los Angeles might have also incited a war between two of Hollywood's foremost practitioners of the celebrity-fellating arts, Tropicana/Teddy's queen Amanda Scheer Demme and promoter Brent Bolthouse. Says Page Six:

Never again must Drew Lachey suffer through hearing those dreaded words "You know, Jessica Simpson's ex-brother-in-law" following his name; instead, "champion dancing star" will trail him like an incandescent comet's tail:

Based on this morning's published reports about Stacey Snider's choice to leave Universal to become co-chair of DreamWorks, we think we have a pretty good idea of how Snider spent her agonizing weekend mulling the career decision demanded by Uni boss Ron Meyer before Monday. After a reflective, barefoot stroll on the beach in an oversized "Property of Universal Pictures" sweatshirt and much meaningful staring into the placid ocean, Snider returned home to sit in front of her vanity, alternating her gaze between the soft-focus picture of current beau Meyer tacked to her mirror and a gaudily framed photo of brawny Paramount emperor Brad Grey and DreamWorks hunk Steven Spielberg showing off their varsity football jackets, her wistful sighs occasionally drowning out the ticks of the noisy grandfather clock counting off the seconds until the arrival of her deadline. Then, of course, the cell phone rang and her lawyer let her know that Paramount played ball on her salary (apparently still a pay cut, but a reported $2.5-3 million base is nothing to sneeze at), and all barriers to leaping into Spielberg's big, strong arms were suddenly gone. Reports the LAT:

The following movies will have no bearing on next year's Oscar race (except one of the films starring Paul Walker, a dark horse for his fine work supporting some huskies in Eight Below):

· Oscar Countdown: $2 million gets you: 1 Oscar party, or 1 Oscar commercial. How many different ways can Oscar host Jon Stewart say the same thing? And the Oscar for Best Humility goes to George Clooney. Wait! It's a tie! Dan Futterman, get up here! Kodak Theater to equip every seat in the house with bad-taste-sickness bags.
· It's Spider-Man time again. Which means Tobey's on the treadmill.
· Elijah Wood gets a latte and a pitch.
· Daniel Battsek ushers in the new "sane and boring" era to Miramax.
· Riding high on a wave of gay cowboy glory, Ang Lee looks ahead, to Moss on Theron action.
· Britney gets some work.
· Life & Style: Bert Fields is about to squeeze the last breath out of you. But god, we're in awe of your glossy cojones.
· "Um, Mr. Ford? The photoshoot has been over for nearly an hour now..."
· Teenage stars get away with drinking alcohol! In other news, Earth is round, Pope: Catholic.
· Dakota Fanning's body turns 12; soul still hovering around 48.
· Let's just say this wasn't exactly Daniel Craig's week.
· Ha ha! Not so hot now, are you, Miss "Forgot-to-feed-the-meter"?!
· Scott Stapp's ferocious nipples put back into their cage for the moment.
· Feud Week! Paris Vs. Mischa! Donald Vs. Martha! Goldberg Vs. McDonald! Donald Vs. Martha 2! Martha Vs. Donald!
· "I AM big! It's the pictures that got small. And gay. And inexistent."
· Jeremy Piven is Los Angeles mag's cover jackass of the month.

· The Greatest Bond of Them All finally falls in line and offers his endorsement of Daniel Craig. And if you need something to make you forget about his tomato-tastic nude scene, here's a bunch of naked pics of the new Bond girl. [link NSFW]
· Maybe those people harbinging the death of blogging aren't just whistling Dixie.
· We always thought that Brian Fellows was a little too tipsy to get behind the wheel. And the same goes for Donald Duck.
· The last person on earth not to know The Daily Show is not a "real" news program just so happens to hold high public office.

[We apologize in advance for our shaky, ultra-low budget digicam work. If motion sickness starts to set in, you can view the message here.]

Friday
· Great for snobs with short attention spans: Oscar documentary shorts are being screened at the Aero. [via flavorpill]
· Friday's music thing: Robert Pollard, the evil mastermind behind the legendary Guided By Voices, at the Knitting Factory; Burning Brides at Spaceland; Reggie & The Full Effect at the Troubadour.
Saturday
Mini music round-up: Robyn Hitchcock and The Minus 5 at Key Club; the two-day Arthurball festival features Joanna Newsom at The Echo.
· It's a magical mystery tour of the La's independent bookstores! Buses leaving from Vroman's in Pasadena or Dutton's in Brentwood bring you to booksellers on the east or west sides, respectively, and meet up for lunch with a surprise guest. More info here.
Sunday
· A little birdie that we're sure isn't affiliated with either New Line or Paul Walker was all geeked up that Running Scared is showing in the Cinerama Dome this weekend, representing perhaps your only chance to see Walker's fifty-foot-wide face struck by a twenty-foot hockey puck.
· Seriously? Joey Fucking McIntyre is playing Fonzie in a Happy Days musical? We hope nobody's told Henry Winkler about this.

In keeping with the its unofficial nickname, ABC is charging Gay Super Bowl prices for a 30-second commercial on this year's Oscar telecast not quite the network's personal best of $2.6 million per spot for the actual Super Bowl, but a pretty penny nonetheless for a ceremony honoring five movies that have barely come close to grossing $100 million:

We thank you for mustering some enthusiasm for a blind item guessing game about a spoiled star having a little cry while shopping, which is hardly as titillating a subject as your favorite InStyle cover girl blowing rails off a toilet seat at Mood. Take another spin with (Two) Bitches on the Verge Blind Vices before going on to your responses:

In response to our earlier reference to Tobey Maguire's longtime battle with poker-induced morbid obesity, an operative from the Sony lot offers an update on Spider-Man's fitness level:

Perhaps finally provoked by a joylessly over-the-top an outrageous storyline in which Eva Longoria's character cold-cocks the nun she believed to be seducing her husband, the endearingly nutty TV watchdogs at the American Family Association (whom we're sure you remember from their recent anti-drug-addicted-Episcopalians and down-with-pop-trailer-trash-cameos-on-the-gay-show campaigns) are calling for a boycott of Desperate Housewives' sponsors, who surely will forsake the show's 20-plus million viewers to placate some publicity-addicted bible-thumpers:

At last, Team Stewart has something to cheer about in the ongoing battle royale between Martha and Donald Trump. On Alexis Stewart's Sirius radio talk show last night, mom called in from her office, and the two had some fun getting a few below-the-belt shots at the Great Combovered One:

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) before tattling to the world about the night John McCain played footsie with Barbra Streisand under a table at Morton's:

Please pretend not be incredibly aroused as we apply scented oils to the tense muscles of this week's sponsors and begin a vigorous rubdown. They deserve some pampering without the prurient gawking, OK? If you'd like to have your product or services lovingly displayed on Defamer and reach the world's most fiscally promiscuous readers, see this page.

SniderWatch Update: Will Stacey Snider stay at Universal or leave to head DreamWorks? Var says that the "situation is expected to be resolved soon, possibly before next week," which gives Brad Grey only about two days to draw up a list of people to lay off in celebration of Snider's arrival if she signs on. [Variety]
Chris Weitz will adapt Neil Strauss' book about pickup artists, The Game, for Columbia. If you don't know what "neg" or "FMAC" mean, you're just another AFC. OK, fine. We read the damn book and wound up getting drinks thrown in our face for using two-year-old techniques, and we're a little bitter. [THR]
WGA interim president David Young fires longtime spokeswoman Cheryl Rhoden, who then released the following statement (really): "I love writers. For going on 20 years, it has been my honor to work on their behalf. For myself, I'm going to take some time off to smell the horses." We fear that this some kind of secret code signalling other spokespeople to rise up and burn down the WGA headquarters in retaliation. All Guild employees should be on alert through the end of business today. [Variety]
· A judge delays a decision that would shut down BlackBerry service, putting off the armageddon that a sudden portable e-mail blackout would inflict on the entertainment industry. [THR]
VH-1 is forming a metal band with washed-up rockers like Ted Nugent and Sebastian Bach for SuperGroup, a show that sounds like such a trainwreck that it'll be in our TiVo wishlist before we finish typing this sentence. If they really want our undying love, they'll bring back Bands on the Run. [Variety]

When Cynthia Nixon left the father of her children for another woman, it seemed only natural that the 25% of Sex and the City's female audience who identified with her character's "hard-edged, sensible" template would be thrown into a tailspin of scandalized despair. This, after all, was the woman they patterned their lives after; were they doomed to a life of she-love as well? So when another no-nonsense TV Cynthia, Nightline's Cynthia McFadden, sat down with the actress and tenderly broached the L-word subject (so tenderly, in fact, that the word is never uttered), she was surprised to learn the entire affair just was not that big a deal. A partial transcript:

Wherein we invite our readers to slip into their most aerodynamix spandex bodysuits and lay down on top of E! gossip-Olympian Ted Casablanca, then ride his two-man luge down the treacherous, icy chute of his weekly blind item. This week, Casablanca spins a tale of Valentine Day's woe, though one that's tragically devoid of coke-binging bimbos or doggy-styling closet-cases. Sip champagne from the slipper of (Two) Bitches on the Verge Blind Vices:

On Andy's Blog, Bravo VP Andy Cohen waxes longwinded on any number of subjects with the giddy enthusiasm of someone who has landed his dream job of programming a network so gay, its corporate parents NBC and Universal can often be overheard arguing over whose fault it was. But sometimes exuberance can spill over into "sharing way too much on the company website" territory, such as this Penthouse Forum-style anecdote involving a hot day, a pitch meeting with Cybill Shepherd, and a cool breeze blowing through executive legs: