With Valentine's Day quickly approaching, you can either purchase a heart-shaped Whitman's sampler and plop chocolate after chocolate into your face in a bitter party-of-one feeding frenzy, or do what we do: Give yourself over to romance! And what better way to accomplish this than by sending out these Law & Order: Special Victim's Unit-themed cards ($10 for the whole set) to the many objects of your affection. Yes, they might be mildly put off when they tear open the envelope and first catch a glimpse of the stars of the sex crime-specific detective series staring back out at them, but in the end, who could deny Richard Belzer's adorable mug, especially when paired with his playful salutation: "HEY CUTIE!"

A reader driving up Gower Street this afternoon snapped these pics (he even apologized for the dirty windows) of a truck carrying what he believes to be giant Oscar statues from storage on the Paramount lot to some destination elsewhere in Hollywood. We hope that he's correct about the statues, as one of our operatives was nervous that some of the inevitable layoffs from the DreamWorks acquisition might be beginning very soon, and we can't bear to think that Brad Grey quietly ordered some redundant employees bronzed, covered in plastic, and shipped out on the flatbeds of pick-up trucks.

USA Today and Variety have amassed the definitive surveys of today's Oscar nominee reactions, with most of the responses falling into one or more of the following categories: "I never expected it," "I feel like a kid again," "I will be celebrating with/without alcohol," "My [insert occupation here] called to tell me the news," "I'm thrilled my co-workers got one too," and, finally, its remorseful companion, "I'm disappointed my co-star was left out."

· Oscar Nomination Night music round-up: The Like at Cinespace; She Wants Revenge, whose big song is free on the radio every five minutes or so, gives away more for free at Amoeba; and if The Like didn't meet your girl-rock quota, Tegan and Sara are at the Wiltern LG with Cake.
· Spin magazine's Andy Greenwald reads from his novel Miss Misery, in which a blogger's fictional alter ego becomes flesh and runs amok on the Lower East Side, at Book Soup.
· Former Paper magazine art critic John Carlin meets Art Spiegelman, one of the world’s best-known graphic artists, at the Hammer for a conversation about…art stuff, we suppose. But we bet they'll be happy to discuss any Oscar snubs as well.

Getting up before 6:00 AM to watch the Oscar nominations is a stunt that can easily cripple the sleep-deprived mind. Moments after we'd flipped on the announcement coverage, we drifted into that hazy place between sleep and wakefulness, and we could've sworn we saw forked tongues ablaze with hellflame flick from the mouths of Mira Sorvino and Academy president Sid Ganis as they announced each name from the Best Picture Hopeful List of the Damned: Must Love Dogs...Crash...Guess Who...Crash...and Stealth. Even in the fog of semi-consciousness, we found it odd that Crash could be nominated twice in the same category, but quickly wrote off the mild cognitive dissonance to the fact that if the Academy could be so wrong about the movie, they could easily have awarded it the unprecedented double-nod. After what seemed like hours, we snapped awake. The real Crash nightmare, we soon discovered, will be about five weeks long.

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 the world know that you've seen Kiefer Sutherland getting his car washed.

Encyclopdia Hanasiana's graphic work has wrapped up the Oscars' acting race as neatly as anything we've seen. Venn diagrams don't lie; given Philip Seymour Hoffman's savvy choice to set himself apart from the Gay and Famous-playing throngs by straddling both groups, he's a lock to take home the award.

In an inspired pairing of two perpetually annoying things that seemingly refuse to go away, Britney Spears will be making her scripted, primetime TV debut on an upcoming episode of Will & Grace, following in the illustrious footsteps of such gay pop icons as Madonna and Janet Jackson, who also used the series to showcase their complete lack of comic timing:

On Thursday, it seemed like everyone in town was hearing that ICM had a deal in place to acquire Endeavor. Since then, though, things have been quieter than the moment between someone at an agency staff meeting declaring, "You know who I think is finally going to be a big, big star? Paul Walker!" and the ensuing waves of laughter breaking the uncomfortable silence once everyone realizes they have a first-rate jokester in their midst. We've still seen or heard no official shooting-down of the rumored deal, but this interoffice denial from ICM chairman Jeff Berg seems to have "leaked" from within the agency's walls and into a number of industry inboxes:

We must admit, even since Halle Berry showed up at last year's Razzies to collect her worst actress award for Catwoman, she's occupied a place in the empty cavity where our hearts should be. So when we heard she had hitched her love train to the caboose of male model du moment Gabriel Aubry, we had mixed feelings: Were we glad she had finally moved past her two-timing, "sex addict" ex-husband Eric Benet? Of course. But should she have fallen for South Beach's sweetest, chewiest piece of gummy-boy man-candy? According to Page Six, probably not:

· Oscar noms: Var notes that this morning, the "The biggest surprise is the lack of surprises." THR calls Brokeback "king of the rodeo." We thank them for resisting the temptation to go with "chaps-wearing queen of the gay rodeo." [Variety, THR]
· Hollywood Is Out Of Ideas, Even On The Internet Edition: AOL and Yahoo race to air treasure-themed web series, even as NBC is set to air Imagine produced Treasure Hunters this summer. [Variety]
· Oscar nominee-related news! Just-recognized Good Night, and Good Luck star David Strathairn will join Anthony Hopkins and Ryan Gosling in the Castle Rock thriller Fracture. [THR]
· Razzie nominee-related news! Paramount buys a top-secret "untitled contemporary love story pitch" for obscure actor Tom Cruise. Our best guess as to the logline: "A man and his fiancee unexpectedly find themselves entangled in a love triangle with the turkey-baster-like apparatus secretly used to inseminate her." [Variety]
· We told you the birth of The CW wouldn't be all smiles, laughter, and birthday parties with clowns and a petting zoo: The previously picked up WB drama pilot Cult will not be making the trip to the new network. [THR].
· He's your favorite, stuttering-but-still-charming rake! She's your beloved, braless love interest! Together, Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore are the musically collaborating lovers in Warner Bros.' Music and Lyrics By. [Variety]

Newsweek correctly guessed the five Oscar nominees (or beat an independent auditor from PricewaterhouseCoopers until he gave up the names) for Best Director, then assembled Ang Lee, Steven Spielberg, George Clooney, Bennett Miller, and Paul Haggis for a roundtable discussion. In the ensuing pigpile of comraderie and mutual admiration (they actually managed to answer some questions in between loving, Oh, you scamp! shoulder-punches and hair-musses), we're reminded of Haggis and Clooney's shared, shadowy past in—gasp!—80s sitcoms.

Not seconds after the Oscar nominees' names escaped Mira Sorvino's quivering lips at dawn (we dutifully woke ourselves up at 5:15 to catch the live announcement, then promptly fell back asleep at 5:28 on the couch and missed the entire thing), Hollywood was feeling the shockwaves: George Lucas stared bitterly at the People's Choice Award on his nightstand, pondering how the culmination of a thirty year career managed to bring in a single nod for Best Makeup; Beyonce Knowles immediately shut her eyes, pressed a finger to one ear, and started practicing the vocal hook to Best Song nominee "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp"; and Matt Dillon, presciently booked to appear on the Today Show this morning, approached Katie Couric at the danish table during a commercial break, and playfully asked if the anchor had ever "done it with an Oscar nominee?" followed by, "No, seriously. Wanna?"

Welcome to the most important morning of the year, when Oscar emerges from his gilded awards-hole, announces who's naughty and nice, leaves some nominations under a nearby tree, and, finally sated from a milk-and-cookies breakfast and scared by his phallic shadow, retreats back into darkness, signalling that we're going to have five more weeks of overheated, hyperobsessive speculation about who will eventually take home some little statues. (It may appear we're a little mixed up, but a day this hallowed requires conflated mythologies.) Without further ado:

· "Now you listen here, Jakey. This might seem all silly-goose to you, Mr. Serious Actor Man, but I'm milking this thing until the Oscar nominations are out, OK? Now if you don't want to wind up snubbed, put your hand on your goddamn hip and play along!"
· Blogger Tony Pierce figures out where Heather Graham moved her birthday party (The Short Stop—nice choice) after snubbing Akbar.
· Just like in her acting career, Jessica Alba's incredible good looks obviously played no part in her success in this poll.
· Gallery of the Absurd never fails to horrify us with its artwork. Today, Britney Spears and Cheetos team up to chill us to the bone.
· A Craigslister in NY is less than thrilled with the medical accuracy of last night's Grey's Anatomy. Seriously, though: The flesh-eating bacteria? That's been around long enough to been recycled through ER three or four times, hasn't it?

The NY Times struggles to find the words to capture just what kind of Nielsen behemoth American Idol has become in this, its fifth season on the air. The lowbrow singing contest is racking up ratings so impossibly high, the only explanation is that not only is every family in the country watching the show, but that they must be birthing additional viewers during the airings, instantly propping up the placenta-covered newbies so as not to miss the humiliation of a single warbling, effeminate Midwesterner by the show's panel of obliged, apathetic judges. To give some indication of just how many people are watching, consider the numbers among arguably the show's bread and butter demographic, teenage girls:

We thought we were joylessly slogging through yet another "Are you (or is your current character) exactly like/nothing like you (or your last character)?" story, this time about Jenna Elfman and her new sitcom, Courting Alex, when we came across this passage about Elfman's level of involvement in the project:

· Brokeback Mania hits the ArcLight! Screenwriters Diana Ossana and Larry McMurtry, the two people who introduced (for better or for worse) the line "I wish I knew how to quit you" into the vernacular and forever altered the landscape of talk/sketch show joke-writing, will do a Q&A following a screening of their soon-to-be Oscar-winning movie.
· Battle Of The VH1 Commentating Stars: The Paul F. Tompkins Show is at Largo; meanwhile, you can catch BWE's Paul Scheer and friends (including Owen Burke and Rob Riggle) go wilding on some unsuspecting MySpace profiles at the UBC Theatre.
· The Spider Club might seem about as punk as Joey Lawrence in a leather jacket, but tonight it hosts a party celebrating Johnny Rotten's birthday, complete with a reading from his autobiography. Wilmer and Nicole are totally gonna rip some shit up.

Southwest is quickly becoming the go-to airline for celebrity excitement at 30,000 feet. Just days after a flight attendant tried out her one-woman show, "Everything Kenny Chesney Wanted to Know About Sex and I Obligingly Demonstrated," to a captive, and captivated, audience of Southwest passengers, a Defamer operative sends in this report of a living, breathing Desperate Housewife rendered even more desperate by being forced into riding rat class on a Kansas City-bound flight, only to soon find herself the star of a very real disaster-in-the-sky adventure:

With an utter lack of recent cinematic material to scrutinize, we turn once again to Ben Affleck's offscreen life for inspiration. Fortunately, the paparazzi seem to be even more obsessed with the mundane reality of the onetime Daredevil's day-to-day existence than we are, capturing the peppy stay-at-home dad's errands with regularity. Here, the part-time actor gasses up the car in Brentwood while clutching a bottle of a health supplement called Muscle Milk, no doubt preparing his body for a rigorous workout pushing his newborn's stroller up the punishing inclines of his favorite Starbucks' handicap-access ramp.