Nicole Richie is quite fond of bathroom quickies. Enh. That's not very special. Call us when she's found naked in a Camero with two girls, a goat, and twenty pounds of salami. Celebrities just have no imagination these days.  

Are you sick of necklaces made of diamonds, rubies, and emeralds? Had your fill of gold and silver and platinum? Then why don't you follow Tori Spelling's example and wear something you've peed on around your neck? It's unique and classy.  

In the latest issue of Blender, Christina Aguilera has admitted to whizzing in a bucket while completely naked during a mid-concert costume change on a recent tour, shrugging it off by saying,

"I'm very comfortable with my naked body. There's probably even some video of me peeing."

We like the fact that lesser singers like, say, Pink and Fergie, do not acknowledge their backstage urine gaffes, while Christina not only admits it, she's vocally proud, and basically one step away from doing a duet with Chuck Berry with accompanying secret pee cam video.  

Do you wanna hear Kirsten Dunst talk about sex? In public? With Jake Gyllenhaal? Of course you do. Because you have a much stronger stomach than we do and the thought of happening upon a gay cowboy giving it to Kirsten in a public restroom and periodically reaching down around her knees to fondle her breasts is something you can totally handle.  

• As a half-Jew, Rob Schneider refuses to ever work with Mel Gibson. Braveheart 2 just got 54% less zany!

• Ever seen pink pee before? No? Ever seen Pink pee before? Also no? Well, here ya go.

• Carmen Electra and Shannon Elizabeth are pals. If C-list hangs with D-list, does that elevate them to B-list?

• If you posess fashion experience and much love for checkered bondage pants, you can work for Gwen Stefani and her L.A.M.B. label. Just email skagirl.com. Skagirl . . . we think we cybered with her in the AOL Skankin' Pickle room in 1994.

• Melanie Griffith takes the Cruddiest Mom of the Year crown from Dina Lohan when she lights her teenage daughter Dakota's cigarette.

• Cindy Crawford plus stripper pole plus mojitos minus bra equals summer fun for the whole family.

• Al Reynolds dons spandex; gets late-night booty call from large man in bucket hat.

• In case you were wondering who, on God's green Earth, would admire the jauntily shoddy designs of Charlie Sheen's ill-timed kidswear company, Sheen Kidz, the answer is: Britney. Naturally.

• Penelope Cruz is the first non-Scientologist to step forth and claim that Suri No Middle Name Cruise exists.

• Is David Geffen getting Stiflered?  

Every once in a while Madonna will do something to fool us into thinking she's a real human being and not a member of the Cyborg Ageless Egotist Squad (Model #389, batch C). She'll do a spread in one of those magazines that have about three total pages of editorial content yet still cost $8, depicting her serene home life, her beautiful children, her domesticity. Maybe she'll wear an apron or brandish a rolling pin. And we'll be fooled, for a time. Until we hear that she demands a fresh, newly manufactured toilet seat every time she takes a crap.  

Being the offspring of Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones has got to be rough. First Daddy looks like the psychotic version of David Crosby, but without the mellowing effects of weed. Then there's the inevitable blow-up when you misstate Mommy's age to one of your playground friends. "Do you think Mommy's some kind of monster? I'm thirty-five." "But, Mommy, you were thirty-five two years ago." "I don't care. I'm THIRTY-FIVE. And when you ask again in two years I will still be THIRTY-FIVE!" Compared to that trauma, Daddy asking you to pee on him is probably the equivalent of a non-famous child getting a special pony ride.  

We always suspected that Josh Duhamel was about as sane as Judy Garland at an all-you-can-swallow pharmacy. His choice of Fergie pee pee pants as his "girl"friend pretty much proves some sort of chemical imbalance. But picking a fight with Tommy Lee? His penis could knock you clear across the room and he wouldn't even have to look up from his drink.  

We haven't been keeping up with Britney Spears lately like we usually do. In fact, it has been two whole weeks since she has graced our pages. Our theory is that the Britney landfill done filled up. We reached Britney capacity. There was no more room. Until she tried to throw a poopy diaper on top of that trash heap.  

Paris Hilton recently used the bathroom at a farmer's house, and said farmer is looking to auction off the toilet seat that her delicate, million-dollar chair cheeks rested upon. What the poor guy doesn't realize is that objects that Paris Hilton's bare butt has touched number in the hundreds of thousands. Supply and demand, friend.  

Right now you might not know quite who Josh Lucas is (unless you're one of the few who clings to your copy of Sweet Home Alabama as if it were a loaf of bread and you were Jean Valjean), but soon you'll know him as that guy who admitted to drinking pee. Ol' piss drinker. Pee-pee-mouth McGee. Tinkle tongue. You get the picture.  

Beware, little children: If you work really, really hard to evolve from your local gospel choir to garishly colored videos on MTV requiring eighteen cans of Aquanet per performer, then transition yourself into an "actress" who gets to swoon over pre-Waterworld, pre-happy endings Kevin Costner, there will be a downside. You will soon meet up with a former boybander and be led down the fiery path to crack-addiction hell and your bathroom will look like this:



Oh, if only Whitney Houston had married that nice Ralph Tresvant instead!  

We hope that you had a fun-filled weekend, because it doesn't look like any celebrities did. There's still no TomKat (fake, alien) baby, Lindsay Lohan didn't get coked out and fall down the stairs at whichever club is days away from becoming so last week (or we didn't hear about it), and Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt didn't adopt the entire orphan population of Borneo. Pretty mundane really. Except for Kevin Smith calling Reese Witherspoon a cunt. That was a bit exciting.  

When you woke up this morning you thought to yourself, "Gee, I really wish I knew what the sexual habits of celebrities were." (And frankly we're proud of you for managing to keep your sick-ass perversions in check this morning. Not like yesterday when your first thought upon waking involved Liza Minnelli getting fucked in the ass with a parsnip. Seriously, dude, get some help.) You're in luck, my friend, as today we can bring you news of the sexual stylings of Drew Barrymore and Reese Witherspoon. With their respective men. Not with each other. Sorry to get your hopes up there.  

We usually like our celebrity bladder-control-issue stories to be accompanied by photos, but when that story involves Paris Hilton leaving a puddle of urine in a cab without even noticing, our imagination can be just as good.  

Dear YM:
Boy, do I have an embarrassing story to share! So, after my morning Buckys with whipped cream and Ex-lax, I headed to the gym for an intense workout. Man, that Jean-René really kicks my ass! Anyway, I hit the showers, then I pulled on my fave leggings and a T-shirt advertising my unemployed simian boyfriend's band. I checked my nose for boogers and my teeth for spinach, blew a kiss at my reflection and then headed out into the afternoon sun. As the hordes of paparazzi started snapping away, they suddenly shifted the focus of their cameras from my face to my special private area. I casually glanced down, and to my horror, I saw that . . .  

It's like NBC doesn't even want people to watch their stinky old channel. First they insist on keeping both Joey and Will and Grace on the air despite nary a laugh to be heard. Now they won't let Pamela Anderson dance around a pole while wearing pasties because it will hurt the poor little children. If they think that will hurt the kiddies, wait till our army of undersexed pervy old men take to the streets and start beating the kids with baseball bats because they're so irate over not being able to see the better part of Pamela Anderson's breasts on prime-time television without turning on Fox. That will really hurt.  

Since 2005 is drawing to a close and everyone seems to think that the rest of the world gives a shit about what the schmuck from Farty McJizzington's Super Cool Blog liked best about the past year, we'll jump on that Big in '05 bandwagon by revisiting what may have been our favorite story of the year: The Black Eyed Peas' Fergie mistaking her pants for a toilet. And what made us think about this story today? Fergie has admitted that wasn't the first time she soiled herself onstage. Apparently she's a serial pisser. Serial Pea-er. Whatever, girl's just nasty.  

Remember when Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas peed her pants onstage? That was funny, wasn't it? Wouldn't it also be funny if Jenny McCarthy, in some sort of bizarre, Howard Stern-induced bout of torture, were to also pee her pants? Yes, it would be. Behold, our newest member to the pee-pee pants club:

Jenny doesn't care if you've seen her pee her pants. She's just a normal girl, and she has bodily functions just like you. And, really, if walking around a grocery store gushing a sea of menstrual blood in Dirty Love didn't embarrass the girl, nothing will. And Howard Stern has even more pics for your perusal here.
More Jenny, minus the pee, at MrSkin.com.  

Listen, we've made no big secret of our extreme distaste for Black Eyed Peas singer/Cabbage-Patch-Kid-with-a-melted-face Fergie. And these pee-pee pants pics are not changing our minds.