Wherein we invite our readers to risk catastrophic brain injury puzzling over humpy E! gossip encoder Ted Casablanca's weekly blind item. (Blind item health tip: If you start to hear colors and your coffee begins to taste like copper, step away from the computer and take a short break.) This week, the sex is straight and the drugs for self-medication, but don't let that stop you from bringing your "A" game. Roll around in One Useless Blind Vice:

A web entrepreneur is hawking an invite to tonight's Motorola Hollywood Christmas party on eBay, an event sure to draw open-bar, goodie bag, and flashbulb-seeking glitterati in droves (last year's event featured all the usual suspects: Lindsay Lohan, the cast of The O.C., etc etc). The seller claims that this is an effort in putting a monetary value on Motorola's celebrity-courting policies, but whatever—if you want to spend at least $250 to get loaded and try to see if Paris Hilton is wearing underwear, knock yourself out. Um, anyone want to lend us a couple of hundred bucks?

The Corsair blog dutifully transcribes the minutes from the latest meeting of the Robert Evans and Brett Ratner Mutual Admiration Society. Fittingly, this new chapter in the unlikely love affair between the superannuated producer and überhack director unfolds in the pages of Interview magazine, the print media's only pure medium where celebrities can get together for orgies of admiring rimjobs, salad tossings, and mutual masturbation. In this excerpt, it's hard to tell if Evans is about to faint from the force of his own self-love, or if he can hold on long enough to be overwhelmed by Ratner's unabashed brown-nosing.

—Oliver Stone was wary about casting Colin Farrell in Alexander, but then Farrell put on a cheap wig and got drunk and handsy with the director. The rest, as they say, is cinematic history.
—Lindsay Lohan loses her black AmEx card, but realizes she left it in a club's bathroom. We wonder how a credit card gets into a bathroom. Those NYC pay toilets must be really expensive!
—If you missed it last night, you have a second chance to watch Jeopardy know-it-all Ken Jennings prove he ain't so fuckin' smart after all. Anyone else still want to beat him up?
—Separated at birth: Paris Hilton and Shannen Doherty.
—TVGasm outs Alias' Victor Garber, if he wasn't already outed before. Who can follow anything on that show?

An anonymous prankster e-mailed us to lay claim to "leaking' the supposed lineup for next year's Coachella Festival on their message boards—a lineup which, in the words of one board poster, reads like a "Pitchfork reader's wishlist." Supposedly among the 2005 bands are David Bowie, Coldplay, REM, Tears for Fears (!), and just about any group anyone who's ever watched The O.C. has heard of. The hoaxer later copped to his cruel, indie ruse, but not before the story found its way off the music blogs and into some mainstream sources. The truly funny thing is that by the time everything is said and done, no one would be surprised if the invented list is at least half correct (right now we hear that the dates of the show aren't even finalized). All of this subterfuge is making us nostalgic for the more innocent days of this summer's festival, where we endured the brutal heat to get drunk and wander around looking for Seth and Summer.

These insensitive fans obviously didn't read all the way to the end of the pamphlet Bad Times to Ask Your Favorite Charlie's Angel for a Quick Picture, where it clearly states, "When they're publicly grieving over the loss of a parent, spouse, or longtime companion." They probably stopped right after the one about "When you're in the middle of being assaulted by the Angel whose picture you're trying to take," just like we did.

Having Fred Durst show up in your sushi joint can't be good for business, regardless of whether or not he wants to hit on your clientele and start a beef after being shot down. (Was he panhandling for spare tuna rolls?) A reader recounts a recent brush with Durst, which is likely to drive A- and B-listers from the restaurant in droves:

The online albums chock full of pictures of Lindsay Lohan's bluntastic Turkey Day were quickly pulled. But Stereogum reminds us that the internet never forgets, and backed up the photos into another Picturetrail album on his site. Sometimes we love the internet so much we could cry.

We've been tipped off to a Picturetrail photo album showing scenes from Lindsay Lohan's leisurely Thanksgiving vacation, where she and some of her old friends from home cruise around and snap pics of themselves smoking a big ol' blunt. (Actually, Lohan's clearly in the car, but seems to have escaped being captured in the act. We're sure she abstained.) The photos helpfully identify "Linds" and cheerfully narrate the 420 action with crackling captions like "WE GET HIGH IN BACK SEATS OF CARS!" You know, just to make sure we don't think they like really skinny cigars.

—By now everyone knows that insufferable all-time Jeopardy smartypants Ken Jennings goes down in flames tonight after a mere $2.5 million in earnings, but that didn't stop Sony from strong-arming blogger Jason Kottke into taking down his spoilers from the show.
—Maybe CBS didn't like the weird sexual objectification subtly encoded in their MILF-invoking Julia-Roberts-gives-birth headline, because they changed it.
—Someone should tell E! that a bad back and a couple of twins being born does not a curse make. Call us if Brad Pitt gets murdered by a mummy, OK?
—Tara Reid begs for tabloid mercy while crowing about picking up Anna Kournikova's sloppy seconds.
—Bad idea jeans: Licking Britney Spears' feet.

Fortunately, the rest of the People story is only available to subscribers, so no one has to have their daydreams about Paris' new wig (and her apparent run-in with a renegade needle full of collagen) interrupted by any of that icky death stuff.

Coming across an online "FYC" ad for Troy, we wondered how this year's other historical epic might capitalize on Alexander's notoriety to get some attention during awards season. Click the image to see a larger version.

Those sounds you hear are the simultaneous suicides of dozens of sitcom writers, despondent over the instant devaluation of their expensive Harvard educations.

· Sundance director Geoffrey Gilmore complains about an entertainment industry first: They have too much quality in this year's festival! They may be forced to burn several "must see" entries for warmth on the streets of Park City or go insane from their embarrassment of cinematic riches. [THR]
· Matt Damon, determined to typecast himself as Hollywood's greatest superspy, eyes the lead role vacated by Leonardo DiCaprio in the Robert DeNiro directed The Good Shepherd. [THR]
· Harold Ramis and Owen Wilson team up to write and produce an untitled "historical comedy" for Sony. We knew there was still room for another reworking of the Alexander story. [Variety, sub. req'd.]
· Pamela Anderson is attached to star in a Steve Levitan pilot about a woman with a weakness for bad boys. Also, she has huge, fake tits and is battling hepatitis-C. At least Levitan seems to know what he's doing: "[P]eople sense that deep down, beneath the sexy image, there is a grounded and likable person who they occasionally get to see naked." [Variety]
· Kinsey and Sideways grab nominations for IFP Independent Spirit Awards, which everyone will forget about when they're nominated for Oscars. [Variety]

Say one thing about Oliver Stone's glorious flop-epic, Alexander: People are still talking about it. Now that the media's burned itself out talking about Alexander's moony stares into his lover's eyeliner-encircled baby blues, the disappointing lack of graphic eunuch-fucking, and Colin Farrell's follicular adventures with bleach, Angelina Jolie (perhaps the only good thing in the movie, excepting Rosario Dawson's sex scene) has now come under scrutiny. The LAT rounds up some of the prominent theories about Jolie's accent of mysterious provenance:

For reasons completely unknowable to anyone who hasn't woken up next to one-half of a birdlike multimillionaire 'tween-entertaining industry, lovelorn moglet David Katzenberg still pines away for his eating-impaired soul-mate, Mary-Kate Olsen. In fact, he was recently spotted here in town, ostensibly trying to stage one of those cute, "accidental" meetings with his ex, the kind that are a staple of romantic comedies and restraining orders both. Instead, the heartsick Katzenberg wound up locked in heated eye-combat with her current paramour.

The Curious Case of Julia Roberts' Premature Twins has been cracked wide open by that paragon of investigative journalism, the anonymous Craigslist poster:

—Drew Barrymore on father John Barrymore, who died earlier today: "He was a cool cat. Please smile when you think of him." We're not sure if that will make the headstone, but a nice sentiment nonetheless.
—The list of famous people Paris Hilton's hasn't fucked shrinks yet again. Also, (yawn) Paris is spotted in a (yawn) gay (yawn) bar.
—Foot-mirrored sister site Fleshbot offers a highly suspect Britney Spears upskirt photo for your debunking pleasure.
—Towleroad proudly presents Colin Farrell's Man on Man Movie Kiss Manual.

The disaster that is Alexander moves the anonymous troublemaker behind the Query Letters I Love blog to take a respite from posting the insane pitches of aspiring screenwriters to rail against Colin Farrell:

A reader is momentarily appalled that a drifter was about to defile one of the most holy retail destinations in Beverly Hills, then realizes that the offending vagrant was merely an actor with a hobo's fashion sense: