Macaulay Culkin's legal team has taken umbrage with a pair of our posts linking to stories on another website (and since taken down) that speculated about Culkin's preference in a partner's genitalia. Thanks to his lawyers, now we know he's exclusively a vagina kind of guy. They helpfully shed light on Culkin's non-relationship with sublebrity Jeffrey Brunner, whom the rumors "linked romantically" to Culkin:
It takes something really special to get us to work on weekends. Dear readers, behold our definition of "really special."
As Matt LeBlanc Day on Defamer winds to a close, Towleroad provides an intriguing coda. They've unearthed the '90/'91 edition of the Spartacus International Gay Guide featuring a young, avowedly gay-sex-with-gay-hustlers-in-the-back-of-a-limo-free LeBlanc. We won't be so narrow-minded as to suggest this cover revelation changes the disposition of his strenuous denials of the rumors about his sexuality, it merely reinforces an opinion we've long held: A man in a letterman's jacket looks pretty gay.
[Ed.note—In an attempt to emulate the accountability rituals of some forms of mainstream journalism, Defamer will occasionally bury notes of correction and omission late on Friday afternoon, where most readers will never see them.]
This morning, we heard one of those Raid-huffing kinds of rumors that gave us pause. There was chatter that Matt LeBlanc's week might have gotten a whole lot worse after deflecting gay-sex-with-gay-hustlers-in-the-back-of-a-limo rumors. The whispers had it that LeBlanc wiped out his motorcycle while darting in and out of traffic on PCH a day or two ago, but was saved from grievous injury by his trusty helmet, and is currently convalescing at UCLA Medical Center. We don't know what possessed us to actually check on the story, but we did.
Who needs Cops when we have Lindsay Lohan's family? Today's Page Six is overflowing with the wacky antics of Lindsay's dad Michael and mom Dina. Michael's agreed to more rehab but still insists he doesn't have a drinking problem, Michael calls Lindsay's friends "lowlifes" and "parasites," Dina drinks her lunch, and Michael claims Dina's assistant Ann nearly ran him over and—wait, it gets better—threatened to kick his ass. And best of all, Michael takes a poke at the Lohan/Spears Head Liar In Charge:
Another week, another downpour of responses to this week's twin Awful Truth blind items. You truly relish the opportunity to shamelessly point the Gay Finger at Hollywood's hottest, sexually-conflicted young studs. Once more, with feeling, One Boyishly Bad Blind Vice:
Popbytes, the website that ignited discussion about former Home Alone munchkin Macaulay Culkin's preferences in a partner's genitalia, posts an update on the rumors. We still haven't been able to completely understand the bizarre, supposed love-pentagram involving Culkin, Simon Rex, Nick Carter, Paris Hilton, and sub-celebrity Jeffrey Brunner; quite frankly, it gave us a headache so severe we'd go to the hospital if we had health insurance. Yesterday, the Hilton connection prompted us to recommend that Culkin lop off his penis in an act of self-preservation. With today's batch of rumors, we further suggest he poke out his eyes.
Wherein we invite our readers to hack away at the tropical prose-thicket of humpy E! gossiper Ted Casablanca's weekly assault on the English language and guess the identity of his blind item. This week, Ted doesn't disappoint, serving up yet another TWO sordid tales of supposedly straight actors clandestinely liberating themselves from the tyranny of the vagina. Casablanca even candidly admits, "I get a lot of mail from readers wondering if I think there are any heterosexuals in Hollywood. Not many!" Amen, and enjoy One Boyishly Bad Blind Vice.
How do you know when an entertainment publicist is lying? She's returning your call. Today's Rush & Molloy column solicits Britney Spears' rep, Leslie Sloane, for the official word on the "wedding night panties" now no longer available at auction on eBay [UPDATE: Fleshbot helpfully preserved a screenshot of the acution for posterity.]
We only now realize that the hubris of even entertaining the thought of a "Britney-free day" gives the Baby Jesus a wicked case of colic, causing His cries to drown us in Spears-related nonsense. How could we have been so naive? Now we're compelled to present the latest (and perhaps the most promising) item in the Britney Economy, a pair of lace boyshorts supposedly worn by Spears on her fake wedding night. The cred-seeking vendor also offers to include a staff pass from the event as proof that the item has actually touched Spears' dainty bottom. By all means, bid now, before a pair of crotchless panties (encrusted with rhinestone studs spelling out "Property of K. Federline'") are put on sale following her real wedding in Santa Barbara on October 16th.
Trust us, we were looking forward to a Spears-free day more than anyone, but circumstances have once again intervened to render that a silly pipe dream.
Media elitist sister site Gawker hears a rumor that the Olsen twins, everyone's favorite squirrel-eyed, mass-impaired moguls-cum-coeds, might have discontinued their rigorous freshman studies at NYU. Before you get any crazy ideas, they haven't committed suicide; teenagers that rich have too much to live for, and we're sure their DualStar corporation's officers have installed the necessary "meal-ticket loss prevention" mechanisms in their 5,725-square-foot chipmunk palace. Of course, their reps were quiet when Gawker got ambitious and tried to confim the rumor, but a "no comment" from an agent's cagey assistant sounds a lot like a confirmation to us. Let's see if a publicist issues a denial so we can send the girls some Santa Monica College transfer forms.
Maybe our invitation to the "Macaulay Culkin might be gay" party got lost in the mail and we're arriving fashionably late, but Popbytes reports that he's been romantically linked to "animal rights activist and television spokesperson" Jeffrey Brunner and isn't denying it. OK, whatever, we blame Chris Columbus, you go Mac, etc etc. We only bring this up because the Popbytes story says Brunner was linked to former MTV mannequin Simon Rex, who, of course, was once involved with Paris Hilton. If there's a chance any of this is true, we have no choice but to recommend that Culkin cut off his penis and avoid further Hilton cross-contamination. He'll thank us later.
Your guesses for Ted Casablanca's especially stingy blind item clues have been logged by our army of interns and are presented below. Again, One Blind Blind Vice:
Wherein we invite our readers to untangle the slippery prose-spaghetti of humpy E! gossipist Ted Casablanca and guess the identity of his weekly blind item. Today, Ted puts the butt-sex of supposedly straight actors on the back burner and foregrounds our other favorite blind item topic, drug abuse. Ecce, One Blind Blind Vice:
Oh, now we know why the publicist for The O.C.'s Ben McKenzie clamored to get an item in Page Six reaffirming his hott career and love for the ladies. This interview from Elle is a flack's worst nightmare, even more chilling than the one where they're sitting in their underwear on a crowded red carpet and suddenly find themselves unable to lie:
A British reporter's viewing of the new Paris Hilton sex tape (which we've preemptively named 12 Hours in Paris, making the tape's eventual vendor's job a little easier) turns up a troubling scene, and no, we're not talking about anal. According to the report, Hilton has what seems to be a pleasant conversation with a couple of African-American guys, then casually drops the N-bomb. Did we ruin the surprise?
In case acid has been burning holes in your stomach from worrying about where temporary Britney Spears husband/unemployed background dancer Kevin Federline scraped up the funds for his new bride's wedding ring, you can now throw away your roll of Tums, Spears has gone on the record to the always-reliable WENN that K-Fed went into hock for the wedding band, and to "contribute to the wedding." Do you get the feeling that his loan application was approved by the Bank of Britney, since lending instiuations generally don't accept dirty wife-beaters and a ten-second performance of professional-quality Running Man as collateral? At least he was smart enough to take out enough money for the ring, the boombox rental, and a bucket of the Colonel's finest. Oh, and we imagine he sprung for the "Shut Up and Do Me" trucker hat as well, which she can pull down nice and tight should her alien mask fall off during her next paparazzi sortee.
