Star Jones' "people" (at this point, we imagine she's just making the calls herself using a really fake sounding British accent) have issued an angry statement in response to Page Six's lengthy item today reporting that Jones appears to have finally woken up, smelled the "I married a Gay" coffee, and has been telling friends in the Hamptons that the marriage is over. From the Us Weekly blog:

There's no use trying to make heads or tails out the living arrangements of Hollywood's rich and famous, where on any given Beverly Hills estate, you may find an aging trophy wife kissing her ex-husband hello just before she strolls over to the new life she's built in the guest house with the poolboy. For example, Jon Peters' ex-wife, Christine Forsyth Peters, has been living rent-free in his Bel Air mansion since their 1987 separation, after only two months of marriage. (They divorced in 1993.) Presumably, the arrangement had its "3 a.m. knock on the door" benefits, but Peters has decided the time has come for Christine and her adopted daughters to hit the road:

As if she hasn't gone through enough already, embattled talk show casualty Star Jones may soon find herself having to part with a sizable portion of her earnings (and shoe collection), as MediaTakeOut.com is reporting that husband Al Reynolds was spotted slinking into the offices of a prominent New York divorce attorney:

Watchers of Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List know that the annoying comic's marriage to her ineffectual, alfalfa-male husband Matt Moline has been on the rocks for a while now. Griffin often mentions that the two are "working things out," which invariably gets a huge response from her adoring audiences, composed mostly of gay men who will laugh at anything if it's said loudly enough. According to an interview she recently gave to Larry King (which has yet to air), however, things aren't looking good:

Today's Page Six relates a Wednesday afternoon sighting of Robert Evans at Cedar Sinai, where the swingin', just-divorced former superproducer may have been trying to drown the sorrow of his recently disintegrated marriage beneath a pile of naughty health care providers:

· Without the benefit of paparazzi-eating lions to devour their camera-toting tormenters, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie now has to rely on Malibu's Finest to keep their family safe from unauthorized photography.
· If Paris Hilton wore underwear, hers would burst into flames and singe her ladyparts: "I've never danced on a table in my life."
· Every time a pair of celebrities announces they're divorcing, the baby Jesus poops his swaddling clothes.
· Courtney Love says that both Coke and a sexual lubricant company are all horny for a chance to use Nirvana songs in their commercials.
· This Fark Photoshop contest will scare you shitless, we can promise you that, though we fear that even linking to it will subject us to a lifetime of baby-rape suspicion. The 04:16:54 PM entry is a particularly soul-chilling vision of this alternate reality that we'd like to forget as soon as possible.

Did we think that marriage number seven was the one that was finally gonna stick for swingin' superproducer/serial matrimonialist Robert Evans? Sure. Are we more than a little sad that Evans couldn't make this one work, even after ten months of trying to hang on to that crazy little merry-go-round we like to call love with all of his strength? You betcha, kid. But dry your eyes, bucko, 'cause Big Bob's not done with females, not by a long shot. He and best buddy Brett Ratner are ready to hit the town with the top down, looking for a couple of the surely dozens of lucky ladies out there with turbulent enough childhoods to find the prospect of heading back to the waterbed with "the guy who keeps talking about X-Men and his horny grandpa" more exciting than psychologically destructive.

As Nicole Kidman's attends to the final cloak-and-dagger preparations for her quickly approaching wedding day, her Cold Mountain co-star and confidante Renee Zellweger has been doing everything she can to dissuade Kidman from making the same, pretty-boy-in-a-cowboy-hat-espousing mistakes she made, says website FemaleFirst.

According to TMZ.com, Jessica Simpson has offered Nick Lachey a divorce settlement of "less than $1.5 million," an f-off number way beneath the 50 percent he's entitled to, with Simpson allegedly banking on the fact that Lachey will sooner accept the sum than engage in a nasty and embarrassing legal battle for his share of her earnings. Simpson's father/manager/creepy stringpuller Joe Simpson put in a call, TMZ reports, attempting to convince his former son-in-liability to take the money and run:

While her wax doppelganger clings to a deluxe stripper pole currently installed at Madame Tussaud's, the real Britney Spears is left desperately clinging to the metaphorical stripper pole of her own sanity, as she watches what's left of her marriage tumble to the ground like ashes from so many half-smoked Philly Blunts. Not a week after her wrathful poem, "Remembrance of Who I Am" (soon to be required reading in all college Feminist Lit courses) appeared on her website, The Scoop notes that, according to Us Weekly, husband/askew-hat-enthusiast Kevin Federline has been leaking stories to his pals, which they in turn have been selling to the tabloids:

Britney Spears' "Love B: stream of consciousness" section of her official website—the public diary to which she confides her innermost incomprehensible thoughts and musings—has, after nearly a year with nary an entry, stirred to life as of late. First, she posted a 10-word announcement that she was leaving Kabbalah for the "religion" of her "baby." Now, even more mysteriously, an opus of a poem entitled "Remembrance of Who I Am" has been appearing and disappearing from the site, accompanied by a photo of Spears and some garishly outfitted friends flipping the bird. (As of posting time, the poem and photo are back up.) There has been much debate as to what or whom Spears is alluding to in "Remembrance," a verse so primal and tortured it may as well have been titled, "Howl, Y'all." Many are postulating that the target of her ire is none other than background dancing husband/parasite, Kevin Federline, while another interpretation has her addressing the media who paint her as a baby-smashing mommy-monster. You can reach your own conclusions—the entire poem is after the jump.

[S]he's met with her family and lawyer — but not hubby Kevin Federline — and the topic of divorce came up.

Charlie Sheen has finally caught a break from the onslaught of relentlessly negative publicity surrounding his ongoing divorce from estranged, Sambora-smooching wife Denise Richards, as a jailed pimp reminded Page Six of Sheen's All-American, straight-guy-with-too-much-money appetite for hookers dressed as cheerleaders:

The accusations of violence, drugs, gay porn, whoremongering, lying, bad mothering, and publicity-whoring in the Great Charlie Sheen/Denise Richards Divorce War (please assign the preceding transgressions to either party as you see fit) were already damaging enough. But if you doubted for even a second that Sheen and Richards were hurtling toward mutually assured tabloid destruction, consider the gossip Apocalypse that Team Richards is calling down from the heavens by invoking David Spade's love life. (Quick recap: Richards is angered that Spade—who is seeing Richards ex-bff Heather Locklear, we think—called the gay divorcée a backstabber for dating Richie Sambora, who is divorcing Locklear. Got it? Good. We're shooting ourselves in the gut with a nail gun for typing that out.) Says Page Six:

Nick Lachey's tearful testimonial to Rolling Stone about the end of his marriage—you know, the one that was poised to perfectly coincide with the release of his album and land him on the cover, but instead landed him on the front of RS sister publication Us Weekly working his best gay cruise billboard model look—has devastated ex-wife Jessica Simpson, according to an anonymous, yappy-mouthed "friend" of Lachey's:

Charlie Sheen's already responded with a statement about estranged wife Denise Richard's abuse/drug/gambling/bisexual online porn allegations (short version: divorce "smear campaign"), but all this nastiness can't be good for Sheen's new line of clothing for girls (or as Gawker points out, People's coverage of tomorrow's Sheen Kids launch party). They might not be able to move product to scandalized parents, but there's always opportunities for nimble entrepreneurs willing to make their own breaks, who could easily resell Sheen's soon-to-be overstocked kiddie skirts to the pigtailed, clean-shaven talent pretending to be jailbait that allegedly got him into this mess in the first place.

The new era of peace and happiness ushered in by the arrival of the Miracle Baby was far more short-lived than we'd hoped, as today's news that quirky, taut-faced superproducer Brian Grazer has filed for legal separation from wife Gigi once again reminds us that love in Hollywood is a tragically fleeting thing. In the interest of not bringing down this special day with the sadness and recriminations that so often afflict the dissolution of high-profile relationships, we choose instead to commemorate the beginning of their romance, courtesy of Grazer's self-authored bio:

If you have been racking your brain as to how to add your name to serial matrimonialist Chad Michael Murray's ever-growing engagement calendar, your prayers may have just been answered: Sunkist soda's exciting "Ultimate Orange Beach Party" will fly one lucky winner and 15 friends to Miami to meet the cast of One Tree Hill. (There's nothing guaranteeing Murray will be in attendance, but c'mon, when has the guy turned down an evening of wife shopping?) Of course, anyone can enter, though it doesn't hurt if you and your 15 friends all happen to be ovulating females, 16-19, and acutely susceptible to lines like, "You're the one, baby. Love like this doesn't come around every season."

Trust us—we care as much about Chad Michael Murray as you do. We'd be perfectly content flying safely out of his "girls, age 9-13" demo radar, but the guy makes it almost impossible to ignore him. First, he weds his One Tree Hill co-star Sophia Bush in a lavish, seaside ceremony, only to divorce four months later, with Bush citing "fraud" in the annulment papers. Now, People reports that he's engaged to yet another Hill "crew member," (according to E! Online, a cheerleader extra), 18-year-old Kenzie Dalton. Of course, Bush is still on the series, which shouldn't be awkward at all for the production. It seems in One Tree Hill Murray has hit the motherlode source for his insatiable starlet-marrying appetite; we only question if he really needs divorce one to move onto another. This seems like the perfect opportunity for a Big Love-type on-set polygamist scenario, with Murray the Bill Paxton Jr., scampering exhaustedly between the adjoining trailers of each of his equally adored actress brides.

Reminding us once again that they almost certainly have a videotape of the former Friends star sodomizing a burlap sack full of defenseless, three-legged kittens that allows them to be your one-stop shop for all Matt LeBlanc-related breaking news, the National Enquirer goes live with a World! Exclusive! on the divorce papers that the actor is reportedly filing today in a Los Angeles court. There are no details about the reasons for the split, but we imagine that things around the LeBlanc household have been pretty tense ever since his wife had to read his hilarious blow-by-blow of what his imaginary, scandal-averting lapdance was like.