Kevin Federline's rumored affair with former porn star Kendra Jade could be the reason behind the Ferderspears divorce. But we're not sure if we buy into the rumor, as the woman who played Brunette With Worms On Her Body in Ass Clowns is still a few notches up the pseudo-celeb sexual feeding chain from KFed.  

• Kirsten Dunst's teatlets meet a lace-paneled dress, peekaboo nippage ensues. The pictures are old, but so are you, geezer.

• John Mayer and Jessica Simpson are together again, naturally. Even though they say they weren't together in the first place. But they are now. Probably. Eh.

• Well, we had the dubious honor of viewing the Screech sex tape yesterday. What can we say about it? He refers to himself in the third person, as "the D Man", he is more interested in the various edibles the ladies have around their hotel room than their vaginas, and the first 15 minutes consist of Dustin and his lady in a bubble bath, discussing the finer points of 24. Fleshbot has their own review. And screencaps.

• Agent Scully had a baby! And despite her insistence that the child was sired by boyfriend Clyde Klotz, her ex-husband Julian Ozanne is demanding a paternity test. So we can find out it's half-alien. And then Mulder will watch porn and there will be sexual tension, etc.

• Australian Holly Valance's nipple boomerangs out of her swimsuit. Crikey!

• Keira Knightley is engaged to her actor arm candy Rupert Friend. Can you imagine calling up your parents and saying, "Mom, Dad, I am going to be Mrs. Rupert Friend"? And then your parents would howl with laughter and say, "Sure, and I'm about to marry Nigel Sparkleshowers! Ahahahaha! His best man will be Cecil Rhys-Babybunnybottom! Hahahahaha!"

• Penelope Cruz half naked for Pirelli. Why are you still reading this?

• Janet Jackson has made whoopee on a plane. In her seat. Surrounded by passengers. And peanuts. And crying babies. And manhandled issues of Flight magazine. And the heady stench of impeding fiery death. Anyone else have a boner right now?

• Will Smith says that he and Jada are homeschooling their children, because history and dates aren't important, and anything of consequence you need to know, like for example how to fly a space shuttle, can be found in books. So if you see a couple of confused children wandering around Hollywood, scratching their asses and crying because they don't know how to find bus fare or talk to non-Cruises, but do know how to commandeer a submarine, they would be the Smith progeny.  

We recently insinutated that Kirsten Dunst and Orlando Bloom might be doing the cucumber rhumba, and now, all signs are pointing to yes as they've gone rather public with their affection as of late. Ordunsto is as curious a coupled specimen as they come. He is fully waxed, razored, peculiarly devoid of visible pores, longhaired, and enjoys the feel of tailored trousers against his eunuch pubis mound. She is slouchy, grubby, usually coated in a thin sheen of oil with a hearty dose of filth under her nails, braless, and smells vaguely of Tanqueray. We're not exactly sure how their lovemaking works, though we'd assume it involves lots of prop jeweled rapiers and, possibly, vampiric bloodsucking.  

Even thought she was rumored to be possibly throwing it to Zach Braff just last week, the word is that Jessica Biel is now maybe dating Derek Jeter. Sorry, but we're never going to be able to take anyone named JETER seriously. That's not the name of a virile sportsman. That is the name of a Saturday morning television show puppet who teaches you about cooperation and sharing.  

• Oprah was not invited to Tom and K-Hole's wedding, but she is trying to figure out what to send them as a gift. Duh! A couch.

• Bigger news than Santa arriving at the lighting of the Macy's Christmas tree: Victoria's Secret supermodels getting on their boob-shaped spacecraft and arriving on Earth after their long journey from Planet Jiggle.

• Madonna wants to buy another baby as soon as possible. Perhaps it will be a Christmas gift for the other one.

• Sure, Vida Guerra has a gargantuan tail. But did you know that she has boobs, too?

• Nicole Richie has responded to PageSix's insinuation that SOMEONE had reverse gastric bypass in her MySpace blog. The lady doth protest too much.

• Is Kirsten Dunst sinking her vampiric meth mouth baby teeth into rodentlike eunuch Orlando Bloom? And will their hypothetical babies be weaselly nutless bloodsuckers?

• Paris Hilton's ass looks less flapjacky from the back. But don't they all, really? When it comes right down to it, aren't they all less flapjacky from the back? Deep.

• Jenny Love Hewitt might be all chaste and crap, but she will still wear a small strip of fabric nestled lovingly betwixt her buttocks.

• Lesbian Week continues: Joan Jett and Carmen Electra love rock n' roll. Joan mighta put another dime in Carmen's juicebox, baby.

• No, as a matter of fact, we haven't actually seen Ron Jeremy and Super Mario in the same room together. Luigi, though, sure.  

Here is a picture of Paris Hilton and Travis Barker mingling tongues on Halloween.



And here is a picture of a fellow partygoer's reaction.

 

Lindsay Lohan has a new boyfriend. He is the son of Diana Ross. Thus continues Lindsay's neverending habit of making very very bad decisions--the possibilty of having Diana Ross become your mother-in-law is barely a half a step above marrying into the Collins or Gabor families.  

• Is Australian actress Abbie Cornish the real reason behind the Reese/Ryan breakup? That would mark the second time Ryan's fallen for a blonde with an incredibly silly last name. At least he's consistent.

• Sumner Redstone says that he dropped Tom Cruise's contract because his wife, Paula, "like women everywhere, had come to hate him." Ouch, and hahahahaha.

• Cindy Margolis is in Playboy. And her bod makes us hum Bob Seger's "Like a Rock".

• The drummer for McFly (who?) has been bragging to anyone who'll listen that he has felt the gently licking flames of Lohan's firecrotch. Yeeeeah, that's like bragging that you ate food once, or that you sometimes blink.

• Step aside, Brangelina! Take a hike, Bennifer! Let's all give a warm welcome to . . . Tophvanka Grump!

• If there's anything U.S. Marines hate, it's being in the presence of a large-breasted, blonde, ultra-famous porn star.

• Katie Holmes recently ran into Brooke Shields and stopped to chat. Afterwards, her handler best friend ever threw a burlap sack over her head, threw her in the back of a Brinks security van, drove her to a secluded location 4 miles beneath the earth's crust, and subjected her to 72 straight hours of deprogramming and delousing.

• Heidi Klum: finally, a celebrity who ain't afraid to get a little scary for the sake of Halloween. Nicely done.

• Patrick Dempsey's ex-wife, whom he married when he was 21 and she was the 48-year-old stepmother of his best friend, is alleging that he beat her during the filming of Can't Buy Me Love. Hey, these actors are tempestuous, artistic types and often have trouble bringing their work home with them at the end of the day. Can you really blame Dempsey for feeling violent when he spent day in and day out in character as a brutal, sexist killer with a hair-trigger temper. Wait, what? Can't Buy Me Love was about a mild-mannered nerd on a riding lawnmower? Oh.  

That "no sex for a year" ban seems to be working out pretty well for old Paris Hilton. In the three months since she pledged celibacy, she's handled more balls than the entire sixth grade gym class at Sheboygan Junior High.

 

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.  

• Following her guest-starring role as lottery winner Dawn Budge on Nip/Tuck, Rosie O'Donell will be doing a spinoff series. A Dawn Budge spinoff but no Riding the Bus with My Sister spinoff? God, the injustice in this world.

• We can see right through Mischa Barton.

• And after that, she pokes out our eyeballs so that we might never see again.

• Lance and Matt: forever putting the "ghey" in "McConaughey"!

• Ellen Barkin would like you to know that she has fucked George Clooney. Big deal. Join the club.

• Kelly Brook's underwear can be yours. In fact, Kelly Brook's underwear can be anybody's now.

• Suzanne Somers wrote a new book about hormone replacement therapy being the fountain of youth. Before you go clamoring to pick up a copy and a side of progesterone, have a gander at the results. Sweet fancy Moses on a cracker!

• Whitney Houston is legally extricating herself from Bobby Brown. Hopefully she'll get custody of a better weave. Oh yeah! We went there! That's right!

• Heather Mills is alleging that Paul McCartney roughed her up during their marriage. Oh, please. That's like saying you got roofied by Cat Stevens. Paul McCartney? Macca? Seriously? The worst we can picture is him smoking a laced doob and giving a half-hearted slap with some organic radishes or something.

• The wrestlers of the WWE had their way with Kevin Federline the other night. And while the pictures of K-Fed getting body-slammed in the ring are pleasant enough, we can't help but yearn for the quality WWF days of our youth and wish that Junkyard Dog and the Iron Sheik would join forces to tag-team Federline, while Lou Albano shot rubber bands from the sidelines and afterwards, Rowdy Roddy Piper would make a man out of K-Fed during a Backlot Brawl.  

Don Johnson is cheating on his wife with a nineteen-year-old Italian porn star. We thought long and hard about a joke to put right here, but we really don't think it's necessary. Don Johnson. Nineteen-year-old Italian porn star. That alone made us laugh more than the first time we heard "Stars Are Blind."  

Awkward English hobbit and Canadian Jesus freak with brutal abs meet on set of Hawaiian plane crash show, fall in love, dry hump on beach. Only in Hollywood.



Please let that tattoo say "You all everybody."  

We don't really care whom Paris Hilton and her set have or haven't slept with. At this point it's just swapping different herpes strains anyway. But in a desperate bid to garner publicity for his new House of Carters (which we'll only watch if it involves AARON CARTER SHIRTLESS), Nick Carter is claiming that Paris cheated on him with Chad Michael Murray, so in return Nick slept with Ashlee Simpson. Why doesn't everyone in Hollywood under age 25 just get together for one giant clusterfuck and call it a night? Except for that lovely Mandy Moore. We wouldn't want to defile her like that.  

We struggled with these pictures of Anna Nicole Smith and attorney/possible sperm doner/definite creep Howard K. Stern pledging their love and devotion in a "commitment ceremony". Lord knows our struggle. Don't post the pictures out of respect for a grieving mother, or post them cuz they're disturbing and hilarious? In the end, the fact that ANS basically had them taken so she could sell them to the highest bidder, coupled with the 1950s Barbie lashes, was the deciding factor.

 

We knew those rumors we heard of Orlando Bloom romancing Uma Thurman couldn't have any vestige of truth. After all, she has no known bearding experience. Penelope Cruz, on the other hand, has a bearding résumé that's long and storied. Plus, after Tom Cruise, Orlando looks positively manly.
Of course there is one other explanation for Orlando popping up in a picture of Penelope leaving Hyde: He's participating in the hottest celebrity game since Ben Affleck played "Where can I plop my nutsack?" It's celebrity Where's Waldo, in which high profile celebs try to outwit the paparazzi by donning kicky chapeaux and striped shirts and try to sneak into snaps of other high-profile celebs undetected.  

Anna Nicole Smith's lawyer/barnacle Howard K. Stern appeared on Larry King last night, and dropped a bomb, announcing with much fanfare, that he is the father of Anna's infant daughter. He then whipped off his Howard K. Stern mask to reveal that he is actually Howard Stern with no "K.", and is not only Anna's lover, but also her brother! Her twin brother! And also her father! Dun-dun-DUNNNN!  

Did Lindsay Lohan and Harry Morton really break up? Was Linds really seen making out with our long lost favorite, Stamos Nachos? If someone took a picture of one of Lindsay's turds would we post it and call it newsworthy? And the answers are: maybe maybe not, possibly, and most definitely yes.  

We thought we had washed our hands of the whole Kate Moss/Pete Doherty thing for good. We realized that we could get pretty much the same effect by watching Sid and Nancy every couple of days, and it's much more fun to imitate Nancy whining "Seeeeyid" than it is to emulate Kate Moss--those skinny jeans are rather binding and we're developing a nasty cough from all those ciggies. But we can never ignore public groping in front of a gaggle of drug-addicted onlookers.  

Surprisingly we're going to have to go with Mena on this one.  

Certainly you recall a little story from the other day involving Paris Hilton strapping on her miner's hat and going spelunking down the tattooed throat of one Travis Barker. Now that you've finally removed the last traces of projectile vomit from your office ceiling, you're going to have to break out the antibacterial 409 one more time: It seems that Travis and Paris are repeat offenders, with particular emphasis placed on "offend". After the cut, all of the gut-curdling grossness in glorious full-color 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.  

This picture may not look like much to you now, but what if we were to tell you it was Paris Hilton making out with Travis Barker? Would you be interested then? What if we told you it was Paris getting her face chewed off by a shaven, tattooed bear? Would that be enough to rouse you from your porn-addicted, video-game-obsessed, jaded stupor? Is that what we have to do to please you these days? Make up stories about celebrities getting mauled by bears? Because we're not above that.  

Matthew: See this, buttmunches? I'm with a girl. A hot girl. I am so not gay. I even put on a shirt to prove that I don't want that yummy concierge looking at my totally ripped pecs. I don't care if he does have an ass that's as tight as Janet Jackson's weave. Cause I've got a girl. And last night I gave it to her good. Right in her . . . her . . .



Hey, Pen, what's that thing called again? Oh, right, her vagina. Mmmm, I love vaginas. They're so hard and long and . . . covered in scales . . . and I love it when they dangle like a limp piece of spaghetti. Vaginas are where it's at, brah.  

Are John Mayer and Jessica Simpson a perfect match, like Peaches and Herb? Are they even really dating? Did John dump Jessica's ass? Do we get to take a crack at her next? Then we really don't care.  

The shimmering, carefree days of summer have drawn to a close, the three-day weekend has reached its end, we all have profound hangovers and the Crocodile Hunter is dead. Just when we thought things couldn't sink any lower or get any bleaker, along comes stupid Harry Morton and his stupid shiny teeth and his stupid stupid fat wallet and his stupid grabby hands to gently dig a deeper nadir and smilingly nudge us into it. To wit:



Hey, jerk. Thanks for reminding us that we'll never be allowed to lay our paws on the smooshy bits attached to Lohan. Unless we somehow manage to get adopted by a billionaire entrepeneur willing to finance our foray into the lucrative world of vagina-themed Mexican eateries as well as our new veneers. Which might be soon, if that sweet Craigslist ad we just placed pans out.  

We have just received the most devastating celebrity-couple news since the break-up of Brad and Jen: Our favorite (allegedly) gayer-than-Elton-John-swaddled-in-taffeta couple may have broken up. First we saw Matthew McConaughey kissing a random girl. Now we hear that Lance Armstrong was seen on a date with Paris Hilton. Has Lance Bass taught you nothing about how to be true to yourself and accept your societally shunned love?  

We have never in our life believed one word we read in The National Enquirer. Wait, we take that back. When we read the ad for 100% polyester culottes in various shades of sorbet and it claimed they were a "flattering fit to any body type," we were sold. And damn do those things make our ass look outstanding. But nonetheless, when we received the latest copy of the tab and read a little article claiming that Jessica Simpson and John Mayer were secretly dating, we might as well have been reading an article about Britney Spears's gestating offspring possessing both male and female genitalia--and a tail! But it turns out that the story might be true. Does this mean that Mike Walker's story about Angelina Jolie wrestling an alligator and cutting off its head for a trophy is true too? (OK, we might have made up that last part, but you believed it, didn't you?)  

Paris Hilton is apparently feeling fairly peevish towards Elijah Blue Allman, the offspring of Gregg Allmann and Cher. Last week he went on Howard Stern and admitted that, years ago, he porked our favorite cockeyed trollop and, as the sex was of the unprotected variety, he scrubbed his penis with Tilex afterwards. Sadly, the household cleaner did not protect Allman from contracting a cornucopia of venereal diseases, but we're told that he finally got that stubborn mildew out of his weiner grout.  

We feel kind of bad for the Jackass guys. Sure, they have another movie coming out and Johnny Knoxville seems to be doing pretty well for himself, but the lesser Jackasses seem to have fallen on hard times. Bam Margera's uncle was just arrested for being a kid-toucher, Steve-O has a heart condition and possibly placed his pork sword inside of Nicole Richie, and now, Chris Pontius has been relegated to writing and recording a novelty song about last year's rumor involving Bam boffing Jessica Simpson. Which comes hot on the heels of Brandon "Fat Elvis" Davis and Scott Storch recording a "Firecrotch" diss song. And you can't fall much lower than being likened to Brandon Davis and Scott Storch. Unless you were to force a kindergarten class to watch you set fire to a litter of newborn bunnies, maybe.