There have been so many new developments in the Anna Nicole Smith babydaddy drama in the last 48 hours that we don't even know where to begin. At this point, the only way to get to the bottom of this is to round up ANS, Howard K. Stern, Larry Birkhead, baby Dannilynn, and Richard Dean Anderson, put them on Maury, and do a paternity test and a drug test. Why Richard Dean Anderson, you ask? Eye candy, my friend. Eye candy.  

When we heard yesterday about Christie Brinkley's husband cheating on her with a nineteen-year-old and the horrible, public way in which she found out, we thought it had all the good makings of a low-level celebrity scandal. But we thought the story was a little thin. There were no salacious quotes, not even from a Hamptons restaurant busboy, there were no objects thrown, presumably no public screaming matches. This is not the type of behavior we expect from former models (see Campbell, Naomi). But today's edition of Christie Brinkley's Asshat Husband (Name Not Important) Schtups a Nineteen-year-old has a bright shiny sticker on the front cover that reads: Now with 30% more references to sex and 100% more lawyers!!  

Hey, guys, it's Reese Witherspoon here, and I just want to take a few minutes to talk about the state of my womb, because it is TOTALLY EMPTY. And what Star magazine said about me is just totally mean. I used to think it was funny when they would say that Jennifer Lopez was pregnant when she wasn't. Because you just know that she goes like three weeks eating nothing but celery sticks and lemon water and then flips out and eats like four burritos and that's when the paparazzi catch her looking all swollen in the belly. But I'm not like that, I swear, I cook dinner every night and I eat everything on my plate, because I don't waste things. Because that's the way I was raised--in a proper home. So that's why I'm suing Star. Because I learned a few things from Paul Newman when I worked with him on that one movie where I showed my tits--which I will NEVER do again, so stop asking me--and the most important thing is to not take any shit from so-called journalists. Because I will always make more money than they do, which makes me better than them.  

Hugh Hefner truly is the most powerful man on the planet. One minute Jessica Alba is threatening to sue him for getting men's penises hopes up that she's naked on the pages of Playboy, and then he sends her a letter saying, "I'm sorry, gorgeous, can't we make up?" and all is forgiven. He must have a foot-long dick made out of chocolate and dipped in gold and studded with diamonds. Ew. We just talked about Hugh Hefner's dong. We feel dirty.  

• Jennifer Aniston is moving to Chicago. We can't wait to run into her in the health and beauty aisle at Jewel!

• Piper Perabo lowers herself to date former pill-popper/Friends friend Matthew Perry. Move over TomKat and Brangelina, here's . . . Pipthew Perrybo?

• Our #1 deity, Mariah Carey, teams up with Snoop, shoots a video, mounts a mesa of Vuitton luggage, wears very little clothing.

• Salma Hayek chortles when confronted with Colin Farrell's weenis. Understandable.

• Portman pokies, redux!

• If your daughter were Tori Spelling, wouldn't you sue her too? Just for fun?

• K-Fed hates the Pavarotti, loves his kids and wife, raps about it in hot new tune on MySpace. This one's for the haters. Fuck the media.

• Pink's special surprise for her husband is reportedly a "12ft pole to be erected in her dressing room". But the bigger surprise is that said pole is being erected in her pants! Because she's a man, see.

• Aerosmith's Steven Tyler is about to undergo surgery for an "undisclosed medical condition". Lip reduction? Eyeliner tattoos? Scarfectomy?  

At first we skipped over the story regarding the conditions of the restraining order against Paris Hilton. We just weren't that shocked that someone would go to such lengths to avoid ever being in the same room as anyone who says "That's hot" eighty times an hour. But then one word jumped out at us as if it were in solid gold type studded with hot pink diamonds: herpes.  

If you are in charge of a magazine that puts hazy, back-lit photos of half-plastic women in crotchless white lace lingerie between its covers, don't try to fool us horny, Jessica Alba lovin' Americans by putting a picture of her in a bikini on your cover and then not delivering the hooters inside. 'Cause she'll sue you. And we'll be left jerking off to some girl we found on MySpace named Jessica Balba. Nobody wants that.  

When you arrived home from work last night we bet you cracked open a can of Fancy Feast for Mr. Winkles, popped a Lean Cuisine entree into the microwave for yourself, and then got on the internet and went directly to DirtyColin.com with hopes of filling your long evening with nothing but Alexander cock. And when you got there you waited . . . and waited . . . and waited . . . and nothing happened. You never got a peek at Colin's Dirk Diggler dick. And then you cried.  

Do you still live in a fantasy world where Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey were married young because they were deeply, madly in love (and not because they were Christians who wanted to screw) and the end of their marriage brought on tears and heartache and pain that only an expanse of years can heal? Yeah . . . No. The end of their marital contract just brought on lawsuits. Lots and lots of lawsuits.  

We saw Britney & Kevin: Chaotic; we know that somewhere, hidden beneath baby Sean's jars of pureed Cheetos and fried chicken, there is a sex tape. And finally we have discerned the advantage in not being on the Us Weekly payroll (other than not getting the shit beaten out of us by Cameron Diaz, of course): When we talk about a probable Brit and Kev sex tape, only a couple of skeevy old pervs pay attention. When Us Weekly talks about it, they get sued.  

And speaking of both Courtney Love and breast fondling, the still rehab bound bag of crazy is being sued for attacking a woman. Unfortunately this is not a new incident, so images of Love prancing around in a flimsy hospital gown and attacking an unsuspecting nurse while going through withdrawal will have to be labeled and stored away for inevitable use sometime in the near future.  

We didn’t report on this yesterday because we were still drunk from the weekend and didn’t register the name Britney Spears as anything more than “knocked-up hillbilly”, but a paparazzo was shot in the leg with a BB gun while hiding in bushes and trying to snap pics of Britney that would end up in Star labeled “Britney’s Bump”. Well, now said snapper is suing Mrs. Federline’s camp, blaming her security staff for his war wound.  

Rich people are fucking crazy. And we poor Wal-Mart-shopping, Fear Factor-watching schlubs let them get away with it in the hopes that they will drop a stray, unneeded diamond in our path or maybe buy us a drink or something. But when rich people are crazy in front of other rich people, Paris Hilton will get her ass sued.  

And the repulsive, crabs-riddled Colin Farrell train just keeps a-rollin'. Now he's being sued by a phone sex operator who is suffering from "mental anguish" after the Alexander star plagued her with over 500 text messages and filthy phone calls. Let's take a step back and think about that for a second. A phone sex operator is suing a client over inappropriate behavior. Seriously, think about that.  

What's a girl to do when some brazen hussy swoops in and steals her lesbian lover? Sue the bitch for theft, of course. Ellen DeGeneres made headlines in December for dumping her lover of four years, Alexandra Hedison, for younger, blonder, and hotter lesbo lady Portia de Rossi. Now Alex is fighting back--Victorian style!