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If we didn't know better, we'd think that all of the nonstop Pitt-Aniston break-up coverage was a brilliant subterfuge perpetrated by Jennifer Garner's publicist. Just like that, no one's talking about whether or not Ben Affleck's demon seed has taken hold inside Garner. Luckily, we've got operatives who don't take their eye off the womb, no matter the magnitude of the distraction:

Today I got on an elevator in Beverly Hills accidentally going the wrong way (up) but decided not to get out because I was alone with Jennifer Garner. She was looking incredibly dressed up in tuxedo pants and a long tan coat. The long tan coat prevented me from ascertaining whether or not there seemed to be any Ben in the oven. I kept inching around pretending to add entries into my Sidekick while actually trying to get a better view of her midsection. She got off the elevator 2 floors above where I did and judging by the building directory in the lobby (yes, I'm nosy), she either went to see Georges Marciano or Gavin Polone.

Perhaps our operative will try a different ploy next time to determine if she's pregnant, like offering Garner a cigarette, an alcoholic beverage, or a ride on a roller coaster. You know, regular elevator small talk.