Wherein we invite our readers to scream "Vin Diesel!" each and every time the word "gay" appears in the blind items of humpy E! gossiper and destroyer of language, Ted Casablanca. This week, One (Selfish) Self-Discovery Blind Vice:
Hollywood's leading men have headed to the DNC, looking to get laid among the willing, starstruck pool of political groupies, binge-drinking delegates, and overheated media animals. Ben Affleck uses Rush & Molloy to pimp for him, floating a variation of the whoa-is-me fame-whine: ""It's difficult. I meet people, but I feel like I'm this walking nightmare."
We hate to take another plunge into the dirty waters of Page Six, but since we think that we knew about Kirsten Dunst and Jake Gyllenhaal splitting before he did, we feel like we have a responsibility to keep everyone updated. It seems that Kirsten stomped on Jake's heart at least partly due to the growing economic disparity between them, as "they come from different worlds," and "she's making some serious money." Yeah, it seems obvious that Spider-Man money is a lot better than gay cowboy money, but it's always hard to see our town's super-rich dump the merely rich. We hope that Jake doesn't shake his romantic funk by trying to rock Hollywood's socioeconomic order; better to drown his sorrows in a hot tub full of struggling Cheesecake Factory waitresses than to risk more heartache when the next It Girl uses her natural assets to break the bank.
Degree of difficulty: 8.5 out of 10
Nancy Moonves, ex-wife of Viacom co-president/octogenarian-baiting television pusher Les Moonves, is still so upset that he left her to put his penis into the younger vagina of Big Brother host Julie Chen that she can't even watch CBS anymore. And according to Page Six, she's lashing out at other Hollywood execs who've dumped their wives for the pleasures of younger orifices of any kind, calling one wife-dumping power-homo a "fruitcake" in front of his daughter. Yes, she seems a tad bitter, but don't go judging Nancy. If your ex was poised to enslave all of humanity with the power of a media conglomerate and a hypnotic, trillion-watt smile that melts the panties off second-rate reality show hosts, you'd snap once in a while too. To paraphrase philosopher-king Rick James, Les is a hell of a drug.
LA.comfidential's Laurie Pike reports this breaking news on Mary-Kate's first public meal since getting sprung from rehab. You can't just drop such a bomb and walk away without answering some questions: How many pieces of sushi did she eat? Did anyone check the napkins for half-chewed yellowtail? Did anyone monitor the bathroom for more than one set of feet per stall? Oh, wait—she wasn't on "vacation" for "drugs."
After an intensive six-week "food"-reintroduction program, Mary-Kate Olsen has left rehab. We're sure that she made some valuable friendships during her time at Cirque Lodge, and she'll be popular with her fellow NYU freshmen when they're partying all night and need a little extra "food" to keep their blood sugar up. And we don't mean to suggest that Ashley's following in her sister's skinny steps, but there's probably enough time for her to take a turn at the Lodge to prepare for the rigors of the coming semester.
Can we please have one fucking day away from Britney, Kevin, and paparazzi photographs that absolutely cannot be allowed to pass without comment? (To make sense of this picture, you're going to need to see the whole series at Vividblurry) Sure, Kevin, taping some Cheetos to your penis may have been an easy way to lure Britney into a balcony blowjob, but you're going to have a hard time explaining the orange dust and bite marks to the emergency room doctor.
There's nothing like Ted Casablanca dishing about the closeted supposed-gays to bring the guessers out of the woodwork. Your responses to One Redundant Blind Vice follow.
The AP picks up a telephone and calls Andy Dick's publicist to confirm that he's "dating" one of the contestants from The Assistant. We could have done that, but 1) that sounds a lot like "reporting" and 2) talking to publicists gives us gonorrhea. [Ed.note—OK, fucking publicists gives us gonorrhea, but let's not split hairs, they lie in bed too.]
Wherein we invite you, a public that craves dirt like Michael Jackson craves garish vases, to guess the identity of humpy E! gossip-mangler Ted Casablanca's blind item. Caution: We have no fucking idea what he's talking about this week. Is that even English? But the good news is we think it's about a gay actor trying too hard to act straight in public. By now we don't even need to tell you that if celebs aren't doing drugs, they're having gay sex.
Every time a flack officially recognizes the death of young love in Hollywood, an angel gets castrated. No, wait. Is that when they lie about a new couple being together or a celebrity pregnancy? We always get these mixed up. In any case, there are now multiple reports that Kirsten Dunst plucked out Jake Gyllenhaal's dreamy eyes two weeks ago and gently rolled them curb-ward, where they can now be picked up by any starlet so inclined. The Sun UK had our favorite headline, which we wished we'd thought up two days ago: KIRSTEN DUMPST.
We knew that there were sure to be some truly insidious side-effects to VH1's insistence on prematurely celebrating the 90s. Send your guesses as to the identity of the mystery "Early '90s Emmy-winning boy band" to tips@defamer.com, and help get a handful of harmonizing, synchronized-dancing goldbrickers off of LA's welfare rolls. [Ed. note—We're pretty sure Color Me Badd was a "man band" or "barbershop quartet."]
Yesterday we couldn't help but overhear Andy Dick tell millions of Howard Stern listeners that he had/is having sex with one of the contestants from his reality show, The Assistant. Knowing that when Andy likes them blonde when he chooses to play around with the girls, we took a stab that it was either Melissa or Tanika. But now we hear a rumor that we tabbed the wrong blonde, and that it was/is lovely Sarah (who "admits to being ultra-feminine and having men fall all over themselves to get her attention") that Dick's "showing the ropes." Ah, to be young, craving camera time, and not afraid of where Andy Dick's been!
Jake Gyllenhaal's caught turning his dreamy-eyed X-rays onto a Sparkle Motion dancer by Variety's camera at Thursday night's Egyptian Theater premiere of the Donnie Darko director's cut. Or is he just trying to explain what the fuck is actually going on in Darko? Either way, nice move: In Hollywood, a good way to get laid is to a) be famous or b) talk about your incomprehensible indie film until someone fucks you just to shut you up.
Just as we were typing up a little item on this story about Kirsten Dunst's refusal to become the next Lara Croft-style jigglebot, we hear a rumor that Dunst and longtime boyfriend/dreamy-eyed gay-cowboy portrayer Jake Gyllenhaal have split. Perhaps all of this Brokeback Mountain stuff was too much for Dunst—maybe the on-camera action between Heath Ledger and Jake wasn't hot enough for her, maybe she tired of him wearing the chaps at home and the constant references to his "six-shooter." We hear some chatter about "conflicting schedules," but that's just Hollywoodspeak for a young cowboy looking for some fresh beef to brand or a little lady tired of the same old side-saddle and craving a little reverse-cowgirl. As they say, developing...
Degree of difficulty: 8 out of 10.
It's so nice that Britney's finally trying to reverse this recent binge of white-trashy behavior and give her image a much-needed buff-up. After all, what's classier than cupping your fiancé's "tiny dancer" on a balcony, high above the paparazzi cameras? We just hope she springs for the laundry bill—someone's going to have to get those Cheeto stains off his shorts.
Welcome to the first-ever Defamer Blind Item. Degree of difficulty: 10 out of 10. Enjoy, but if smoke starts to billow out of your ears or you think you taste pennies while you tease out its secrets, please lie down for a few minutes before resuming your daily activities.
E! updates on Mary-Kate Olsen's progress at her rehab stay at the Cirque Lodge. Mary-Kate's going to need a couple of more weeks to get this "eating disorder" problem licked—her rep still adorably insists it's NOT DRUGS—and is extending her stint to six weeks from the originally planned month. The flack also says that she's still on the fast-track to recovery, as anorexia typically requires 90 days of treatment, but we think that M-K is just lacking focus. Let's get her a wheelbarrow full of Ritalin and get this thing licked in five weeks!
