“hahaha x17online posted photos of NOT ME inside someone’s bathroom…
All negativity & bad karma..nice try though kids-u should do a deal with michael lohan sr a match made in heaven! perfect, he’s religious!”

There are pictures, dopey. It’s you. Blaming an invisible moppet named Not Me didn’t work for Dolly and Jeffy and it’s not working for you.

On our Facebook page, we have an extensive photo gallery of Lilo eating her hand.

In an interview with X17online.com, Michael said, “If I can’t get a conservatorship, then I’m going to take her to an undisclosed location and get her straight. But I know I’m going to get charged with kidnapping.”

On Monday, People.com reported Lindsay was seeking a restraining order against her dad, with a source claiming she was “scared” and had instructed her lawyer Shawn Holley Chapman to prepare the legal papers.

But Michael insists his comments were “twisted” to mean something more sinister and is adamant he would never force Lindsay to do something against her will.

He tells Newsday, “I just meant I’d like to detox her myself … but of course I’d get arrested.

“People will twist my words to mean what they want. The bottom line is, Lindsay needs help, and no one wants to do anything.”

“I didn’t mean I’d kidnap her, really. I was just going to sneak up behind her when no one was looking, throw a burlap sack over her head, force her into my Camero, and haul her off to a secret location way out in the desert. You know, normal father-daughter stuff.”

RSS doesn’t stand for Really Sexy Sluts, but sign up for ours anyway.

Might as well keep bugging you. Hey! Sign up for our RSS feed.

I’m going to get her off the prescription drugs that she’s on. I hate it when people talk about illegal drug abuse because it’s not just drinking and illegal drugs that kill you.

Prescription drugs can destroy and kill a person and are sometimes harder to stop. Look at Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson.

You know why Lindsay’s not acting in feature films right now? Because she can’t. Because the girl with all the talent is hidden and buried deep inside this fungus that’s grown because of the prescription drugs. She can’t be herself.

When you hug her she’s vacant inside. When she kisses or holds me I get chills, and not in a good way – in a bad way.

She’s a different person. I was out there for a week when she was living at the Sunset Marquis Hotel and I would sit there and cry. It was horrible. This was not the kid I raised.

We don’t doubt that Lindsay carries around the contents of a Walgreens in her oversized hobo, but that’s about all that seems feasible in Michael’s story. The way he makes it out, he’s a master at dodging the paparazzi, never even letting a finger make it into frame when Lindsay’s being photographed. But really, we’re guessing that his version of spending a week with his daughter is hanging out in the lobby of her hotel (he stays at the Comfort Inn by the airport) and waiting for her to emerge from her room. “Lindsay, Lindsay, I’ve been trying to call you. I have this new show I’m working on that I think you’d be great for. No one’s bought it yet, but I’m so close to a deal. It’s going to be HUGE. You’ll be a star again. Call me.” And Lindsay flicks her weave over her shoulder and keeps on walking toward the spray tan salon.

Michael Lohan is a twit, but CelebNewsWire tweets. Follow us on Twitter.

Mischa Barton seemed to have trouble orienting herself at the G- star after-party at the Bowery Hotel. Barton — who recently attributed an involuntary hospitalization to wisdom-teeth complications — stumbled up to the check-in table with a posse of eight. “She kept saying, in a really spacey, weird British accent, ‘Like, I’m with the deejay. I totally know the deejay. I’m here for the deejay,’ ” laughs our spy. “She was slurring her words.” After being let in, we’re told that Barton “needed to be escorted to the deejay booth” where she proceeded to “stand for about an hour, dancing in her own world. I don’t think her eyes were open to full capacity — or even half capacity — the whole time she was there.”

See, this isn’t funny. It’s sad. In trying to find a picture for this post, we Googled “Mischa Barton drunk,” and some of the images that came up were just sad. This is not a lady who likes to engage in a tipple and then go about her day. This is a lady who needs some help. God, between this and Burt Reynolds going to rehab, we’re just totally bummed out. We don’t want to live a in post-Swayze world; it’s full of dark and depressing things.

Our sources say DJ AM, a recovering addict, developed a dependency to Xanax and other benzodiazepines as a direct result of the plane crash a year ago. We’re told AM developed a tremendous anxiety over flying — something he had to do frequently for his job. We’re told doctors began prescribing Xanax and other anti-anxiety medications to relieve his fear, but the benzos triggered a relapse into addiction.

Our sources say DJ AM’s relapse was “recent” — he was not abusing for a prolonged period of time before his death. We’re also told the OD had “absolutely nothing to do with his recent breakup.”

Our sources say the evidence strongly indicates cause of death will be a combination of crack cocaine and benzos.

This is a tragedy! Now rich celebrities won’t be about to hear kicking mashups of Kanye West and “Barbie Girl” at parties anymore. Aw, that was mean. RIP AM. You seemed like a good person and you banged Mandy Moore.

Still feel sad? Friend us on Facebook. A friendly place for friendly folks.

She is there to reinforce her commitment to stay healthy. This is part of a routine plan that was designed between her and her doctors years ago.

How does this work? Mel goes in for a routine check up and the doc says, “You’re doing just great, Melanie. So great, in fact, that I want you to pack your bags and go back to rehab. Not because you need it or anything, but just to remind you where you came from. Kind of like going to your high school reunion. It’ll be life affirming.”

L.A. County coroner’s officials found lethal levels of the powerful anesthetic propofol after examining Michael Jackson’s body.

Jackson’s doctor, Conrad Murray, told detectives . . .  that he had been treating Jackson for insomnia for about six weeks. He had been giving Jackson 50 milligrams of propofol every night using an intravenous line.

And on the morning of Mike Jack’s death, Dr. Murray laid off the propofol, thinking Jackson was addicted, and instead, gave him some Valium at 1:30 A.M. It didn’t work, so Murray shot him up with lorazepam. That didn’t work, so he then shot him full of midazolam. Over the next few hours, MJ was given “various other drugs” until Murray gave him and administered the lethal dose of propofol at 10:40 A.M., took a leak, and when he got back, the King of Pop was King of Dead.

Call us crazy, but if we spent nine hours getting pumped full of sleepy juice and were still kicking, we’d just shrug and accept that sleep wasn’t happening and go try to do something productive. Soapbox racing. Origami. Batik. Collecting lifesized statues of underage children and arranging them in suggestive manners in a room full of Shirley Temple memorabilia. Whatever.