· Tara Reid, in an attempt to make nice with Page Six, sends them a fruit basket in thanks for being referred "demurely dressed and completely cogent." We suppose that backhanded compliment is still better than the Six Crew calling her vagina a "revolving man-door."
· We could spend all weekend in front of this montage of classic Maria Moments from this season's Apprentice. We won't, though, because that would be pathetic, and we'll be busy losing two days to a bottle of Vicodin we found in our friend's purse.
· Open All Night stalks Lindsay Lohan all over NY, so you don't have to bother with the frivolous stalker lawsuits yourselves.
· From GoldDerby.com's Golden Globes nominations preview: "Sideways [is] a fine film that probably owes its FANATICAL following to the fact that it glamorizes excessive boozing as being cool." It's not just any kind of boozing, though, It's the classy, wine-drinking kind of boozing, which always seems more acceptable than the kind where you drink straight from the Grey Goose bottle before dancing on P. Diddy's table.

· It's your last chance to vote in I Want Media's annual Media Person of the Year polls; voting ends on Sunday and finalists include our wicked step-sister. [I Want Media]
· Supermodel Gisele Bundchen's missing dog is returned to her by a San Bernadino couple, but she refuses to pay the promised $5k reward and inexplicably tries to have the couple arrested. [PR Web]
·You know you want it: the week in Lohan. [OAN]
· It's not surprising that Britney Spears' feet smell. It is, however, surprising that they smelled so bad on a recent flight that she was asked by attendants to put her shoes back on. [Sun UK]

· Lindsay Lohan, more than a little defensive: "AP: What is with people's obsession with your breasts? Lohan: God. I don't know. They're real though." Make sure you read the whole exchange, it's chock full of some real howlers.
· RIP Dimebag Darrell, nee Diamond Darrell. May you shred in Heaven, sweet cowboy from Hell.
· Tara Reid tears at her clothing and cries to the heavens, futilely begging for some relief from her crushing fame: "[The tabloids] will write anything they can and always in a derogatory way. You can't do anything about it." [second item]
· "This time, a sobbing Spears had to be carried out of the Hard Rock Hotel and ended up getting sick in the parking lot."

Just in case anyone is still arguing about the authenticity of the "scans" of Lindsay Lohan's "lost" driver's license and black AmEx card that were circulating yesterday, an update: One anonymous reader ran the driver's license number and found that it's about as real as Lohan's...let's just say it didn't check out and be done with this nastiness, shall we? Another concerned citizen informed us that one of the black AmEx's most endearing features is that the cardholder's name isn't printed on it.* Obviously, we wouldn't know anything about that; we've always found the plain, green model to be perfectly adequate for being cut up at drinking establishments all over town. We now return you to your everyday, non-Lohan-related activities.

An e-mail purporting to be from the lucky person who found Lindsay Lohan's purse in a NYC club (as presented in today's Page Six story) is burning up the internets, with these "scans" of her "lost" black AmEx card and driver's license attached. We thought we'd check the CA license number through the DMV to prove it's a fake (both items and the e-mail certainly are), but reading the fine print made us realize that's—how do you say?—illegal. More importantly, it costs 30 bucks, and that credit card number ain't gonna go through. For the time being, the authenticity of these cards will remain an article of faith, standing as our generation's Shroud of Turin.

Oh, Fakey McFakerson. The smiley face is a nice touch, but isn't her middle name Morgan?
Earlier: Lindsay Lohan's Misplaced Purse: But Was It A Fendi?

Lindsay Lohan, always ahead of the curve in all of her endeavors, wasted no time in getting herself embroiled in a lip-syncing controversy, "mouthing' her way through a couple songs from her new album on Good Morning America yesterday. Did a hangover make her sleep through her record label's preparatory seminar, "Backing Vocals 101: You're Supposed To Sing Over Them A Little"? This latest incident, probably staged for publicity once Lohan's people discovered that no one actually lynched Ashlee Simpson, immediately sent her reps into "damage control" mode:

One last dash of Lindsay Lohan—because if we didn't address this nicely-hidden blurb, we wouldn't sleep at night:

· More debate on the state of Lindsay Lohan's live vocals on yesterday's Good Morning America appearance: Lohan reps say she used extra backing because it was "rock and roll." Those in attendance say the genre sounded more like dying babies. [Page Six]
· The Olsen twins host hosted a private party for a select group of fans at Dylan's Candy Bar on Saturday. Both girls reportedly went to town on the treats, but probably didn't indulge in those chocolate-covered dreidels. [Lowdown (2nd item)]
· Meanwhile, Mary-Kate Olsen has been spotted (canoodling) with model Karl Lindeman. She was just recently with Ali Fatourechi, so we're wondering if our little girl might be going down the path of the Paris. [Page Six]
· Designer Philippe Starck hires dwarfs to dress as gnomes and entertain guests during a party at his Icon hotel in Miami. Awkward much? [R&M (2nd item)]
· Socialskanks Paris and Nicky Hilton are reportedly in negotiations to promote an Australian line of underwear called Antz Pantz. We're certain these panties will be dripping with irony. [Scoop]

· Bad news for fanboys: Justin Timblerlake may play Iron Man. Your rage is understandable; after all, he's too young to have had Iron Man Underoos. Also, he's Justin Timberlake.
· If a nipple slips and there are no cameras around to capture it, did it ever make a sound? No, it most certainly did not. [fourth item]
· A supposed screen-capture of Colin Farrell's penis in Tigerland elicits the following reactions from LiveJournal users: "Ewwwwww," "::vomits::," and our personal favorite, "I think I just died a little inside."
· Depending on how close you're willing to put your face to your computer monitor, this picture of Paris Hilton may or may not be safe for work. [via cityrag]

Blog Vividblurry obtains an advance (read: illegally downloaded) copy of Lindsay Lohan's first album and offers a review of the inevitable pop phase of her career. Naturally, it's impossible to consider Lohan's talents without invoking the work of the other giants of her entertainment peer group:

Oh, for shame: we regretfully missed Lindsay Lohan's musical coming-out party just now on Good Morning America to promote her new album, Speak (and oh, that title. One word, so much depth. Breathtaking). Darn, we were really looking forward to seeing host Charles Gibson try to control his lust. Thankfully, a reader tells us all we need to know:

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.

Our girl Lindsay Lohan soldiers on after her breakup with Wilmer Valderrama.

The publicist denial is a delicate artform; a well-articulated naysaying by a practiced image craftsman can have the impact of a two-page spread in People (complete with candid photos of snuggling with a loved one on a couch and rolling in the grass with a favored pet). Compare Lindsay Lohan's flack's subtle and effective denial of a reported diva shit-fit at a recent Jane cover shoot with that of the magazine editor's attempt:

You can just see the despair in her young companion's eyes.
[Via Image Shack]

—Page Six sets its gossip-ray to "righteous indignation" and blasts "fork-tongued flack" Robert Garlock for a pattern of dishonesty. We're shocked—shocked—that a publicist might not be totally forthcoming with a reporter. What's next, agents lying about offers from rival studios? Waitresses taking acting classes? The Weinsteins ordering dessert?
—Lindsay Lohan shakes off the whole Fez breakup thing by learning a neat trick. The link's safe for work, but relatively unsafe for our sense of personal worth. [via Fleshbot]
—LAist interviews Heather Havrilesky, Rabbit blogger and Salon's resident boob-tube savant. She loves her some Tyra Banks.
—Yet another actor is digitally exhumed and made to dance a little jig(metaphorically speaking) in the name of advertising.
—We're well aware that OBD/Dirt McGirt/Big Baby Jesus died this weekend, but now it looks like it's going to require a census taker to account for all of his kids.