The Hiltons can call off the fleet of search helicopters, the milk carton campaign, and the storming of local animal shelters. According to a press release from Extra (we'll spare you the reprint), missing celebutante lapdog Tinkerbell Hilton has been found. Now the bad news: If you want to know the details of the dog's recovery, you're going to have to watch Extra tonight. Hold on...MORE BREAKING NEWS!! BREAKING FAKE NEWS!* We hear that Entertainment Tonight has their own Tinkerbell story, and that the chihuahua was found sleeping in one of her owner's Ugg boots. We'd love to say that we made that up, but we probably would've have gone with something involving a SWAT team and Hilton's infamous genitalia. (We still can't guarantee it's not a joke.*) Now there's just the small matter of the agonizing hours between now and the dueling Extra/ET coverage. We will pull through, dammit!

A reader alerts us to a collection of pictures of Paris Hilton hanging the posters (all by herself— did she give the staff a day off?) urging the return of beloved chihuahua/"daughter" Tinkerbell. Please note that the poster features a picture of Paris with Tink, conveniently letting any potential dog-nappers know exactly to whom they should address the ransom notes.

In the interest of clearing up some of the rumors regarding the supposed acquisition of APA by just about every second-tier agency in town, we grant equal time to a high-level representative of the firm, who wrote in to clear things up for Defamer's readers (for real).

Paris Hilton is escalating her efforts to ensure the safe return of Tinkerbell, her beloved chihuahua. According to Rush & Molly, she's upped the reward money from $1,000 to $5,000 and has plastered her neighborhood in the Hollywood Hills with posters urging the dog's safe return (it goes without saying we'd print any picture of these signs). While it's fun to dream up schemes to claim the 5K with minimal capital expenditures for a rat, a can of spray paint, and a tiny, pink velour Juicy sweatsuit, it would be far more spiritually rewarding to find the dog and hold it for ransom. We'd say that she wipes her bony ass with that chump change, but that would assume she's eaten enough to actually move her bowels since the trust fund kicked in.

The Superficial has some pictures of a frequent subject of ho-haranguing Defamer posts, but we don't want to tell you which one. Take a look to the left, make your guess, then click the picture to reveal the identity of the Mystery Skank. She's either a) recently developed a sense of visual irony, or b) so drunk that she thinks she's a hotel doorknob. (Please leave your "every bellboy gets a turn!" jokes at the nearest Motel Six.)

Earlier, we heard a rumor that Paradigm was looking to vacuum up APA in its recent agency acquisition binge. Remember that, way back in the morning? Good times. Now we hear that Endeavor might want in on the action. That's all we know, but maybe we should ask the Official Agent Dance Mascot (that little picture of Endeavor's very own Ari Emanuel) about the rumor, despite the obvious conflict of interest.

Blog Thighs Wide Shut claims that Lindsay Lohan has already gathered a troubling reputation on the set of Herbie: Fully Loaded (which we think just started shooting this week). A specially appointed Task Force On Underage Boozing supposedly trails her around Hollywood, trying to steer her away from liquid temptation. Movies are expensive, and no one wants to waste shoot days waiting for her to heave last night's fun into Herbie's glove compartment between takes.

Blogger A Fly On The Wall hears that it was a constantly bitching, second-guessing Kevin Costner (and not Jennifer Aniston) that got first-time director Ted Griffin axed from the Untitled Ted Griffin Project. It couldn't have been easy for the rookie to get anything done with Costner loudly deep-throating his Best Director Oscar every time Griffin tried to set up a shot:

The Star provides crucial information giving new insight into the twisted interpersonal dynamic between Celebutante Skank-a-lank Hall of Fame inductee Paris Hilton and recently-married kid sis Nicky. The whole tabloid-baiting, publicity-trolling mess was all Paris' idea! Defamer analyzes the state of the Hilton sisters' relationship in light of this new development.

It's easy to write off Nicky as the Boring/Sedated/Semi-sane Hilton Sister, but we've developed a theory that her yawn-inducing, relatively tabloid-free existence has just been a string of bad luck. We're becoming more and more certain that a coin flip determines which sister takes the Greyhound to Skanktown while the other stays home at the mansion to abuse the servants in obscurity. Nicky's been on a prolonged unlucky streak and had to dye her hair brunette, lost a spot on The Simple Life, and missed out on amateur porn stardom. We're unsure of the result of this weekend's Vegas coin toss, where Nicky inexplicably married her 33-year-old money manager boyfriend at the 'Lil White Chapel O' Drunken Regrets, while Paris and Tara Reid pounded tequila shots and danced like white girls with their hair on fire at Ghost Bar. We think she lost, but that's pending a review of Paris and Tara's next gyno exam or the release of a "honeymoon" sex tape.

After Andy Dick's NYC rampage of existential angst over BFF Rick James's death, we would've expected that he'd be on the first JetBlue flight back to LA for the funeral. The resulting, heart-rending scene at Forest Lawn would poignantly evoke the moment in La Bamba when Richie's jealous, conflicted brother finds out the plane went down. No dice:

George Clooney fan forum Clooneyfiles has scans from Swedish gossip rag Nu! supposedly showing Clooney doing his very best Vincent Gallo impression (with on-again/off-again girlfriend Lisa Snowden) in the woods at his villa in Lake Como. It's pretty much impossible to tell if the the oral recipient is Clooney, if there's actually anything fun going on in the pictures, or if some clever stalkerazzi hired some blow-doubles, but the matter certainly merits further attention.

Maybe it's time to finally attach some sort of electronic box that shocks Andy Dick into unconsciousness once he tries to cross the California state line. Page Six reports that Dick, apparently fueled by despair over the death of "best friend" Rick James (but probably fueled by a face-full of coke and a blood alcohol level of 2.1), went on a bitch-slapping, Joey Fatone-taunting, Seth Green-kissing bender yesterday at NY club Suede. What other debauchery did Dick let loose? Rolling around on the men's room floor? Check. Trying to mooch blow from bystanders? Yeah, we got that. Punching a friend in the face for no good reason? You know it. It's clearly time to get him back to LA, where Andy can resume his more run-of-the-mill, home-team antics, like cornering guys in the bathroom of the Standard Downtown and licking them or cherry-picking contestants from The Assistant for sex.

Concert organizers in Ireland discovered that Madonna's backstage demands include enough blessed Kabbalah Water to give her entire entourage a consecrated, immortality-granting enema. She has to have 25 cases of the hocus-pocus Evian to step on stage, and (predictably) spends her down time trying to convert those who only know one or two boring names for God. At least Madonna also demands vodka at her shows, which we imagine miraculously repairs liver damage when mixed with the magic water and a twist of cult-approved lime.

MSN Entertainment scores the first publicist denial of the alleged Cameron Diaz/Justin Timberlake engagement that we've seen, quoting Diaz's rep as saying the rumor "is not true." Paparazzi shutterbugs and tabloid reporters of the world, it's time to start renting your helicopters and getting sized for your undercover cater-waiter outfits, because you're going to a wedding. It's not even worth considering the possibility that the flack is telling the truth, unless the "is not true" quote was preceded by some sort of semantic puzzle that rendered the denial technically not a falsehood. But if a Hollywood publicist were capable of such intellectual gamesmanship, he or she would probably apply those skills to a higher-order vocation where deception is necessary, like being an agent or a DMV clerk.

Welcome to Defamer Answers, where we utilize the amazing interactive features of the internet to respond to your questions about life in Hollywood. Today, we answer this seemingly rhetorical offering from a reader confused by Jake Gyllenhaal and Kirsten Dunst's insistence on appearing together at area restaurants and supermarkets, despite a public break-up:

How does a director get fired after just a week of shooting from a project that bears his name? The Defamer correspondent on Quick Hooks for First-Time Directors reports some chatter about Ted Griffin's booting from the Untitled Ted Griffin Project (the sort-of-but-not-really-now-our-head-hurts sequel to The Graduate):

Numerous sources say that Justin Timberlake and Cameron Diaz are the latest celebrity matrimonial fodder, having finalized plans for a "very quiet" wedding. The last time we saw Justin, he was threatening to sue a tabloid for reporting that he was cheating on Cameron, the Best Paid Actress in Hollywood, with a C-list British tart. And the last time we saw Cameron, she was starring in a topless video, rattling chains with early-career, lite S&M fury, and...calling her lawyers to make sure the masterpiece stays buried. It's really kind of wonderful that they've found each other.

Mary-Kate Olsen's people aren't thrilled about the upstarts who slapped her protruding-rib, bobbleheaded likeness on the "Save Mary-Kate" t-shirts we wrote about last month. In an E! story, the Olsen camp raises the spectre of litigation, and even the charity to whom the t-shirt sellers want to give part of the profits may refuse the vomit-tinged blood money. It's all such a mess that even Michael Pagnotta, the twins' rep, is flummoxed: "I'm not sure what Mary-Kate needs saving from." We know how he feels; we can't remember if we're supposed to say she was in rehab for anorexia or for blow. This is a confusing time for us all.

Women's Wear Daily makes the New York Post explain yesterday's Page Six item about the mysterious, same-sex member of Tom Cruise's entourage at the Collateral premiere in Harlem, and wonders if Cruise is now a sitting duck for gossip columnists now that publicist Pat Kingsley is no longer patrolling his borders with a nightstick and a can of mace: