Here we go:

"He's been very busy. He had nothing to gain by coming forward and saying anything," his manager said.

Are you a mom? Do you have teenage kids? And do you want to get paid $10K just to get really, really wasted on camera? Then you're in luck, because Morgan Spurlock, the genius behind Supersize Me, is casting for an unscripted FX documentary which aims to teach a hands-on lesson in binge drinking. (We love this idea because, dude, our moms just don't know how to party, you know?) 30 Days will ask a handful of mothers to drink what the average college senior drinks over the course of a month. We're assuming pregnant women are ineligible.

General Motors has issued a recall for 193,000 vehicles because of "safety defects," including our city's most ubiquitous symbol of inadequate male genitalia, the Hummer H2:

I absorbed so much this week, I don't even know where to start. For instance, there are some things even tabloids won't print (like, say, the name of the deposed Vogue assistant who came between Proenza Schouler—c'mon, let Derek have his moment of fame). Another lesson: posing as Page Six reporter Chris Wilson will not get you into a show. I also learned to avoid Phillip Bloch, who angrily said he raised money for "UNICEF or something." And then there are those expressions of sympathy that some people won't touch with a ten-foot pole. To wit, an overheard dialogue:

· After just two months, Julia Roberts is ready to auction off the innocence of her young children. Her infant twins (inexplicably named Hazel and Finn — just like your favorite domestic servants!) will appear on the cover of People magazine. [NYDN, image via]
· Sean Connery throws a Hollywood-style hissy fit and walks away from a $17.5 million paycheck; apparently he's tired of working on big budget films. Guess some people will avoid working with Brett Ratner at all costs. [Page Six]
· Flava Flav runs into oncoming traffic for Brigitte Nielsen, who had an asthma attack. No one was harmed—except for the careers of VH1 cameramen, who totally missed getting this on tape. [Lowdown]
· Usher allegedly had a six-way orgy; clearly the man has stamina, which explains how he could handle Naomi Campbell for so long. [Page Six]
· Janet Jackson's wardrobe will malfunction all by itself — if you so much as go near her, her bodyguards will chew off your arms. [R&M]

We guess Michael Riedel is glad he pushed his story through. We, however, are sad.

In my best Page Six imitation, here's a little something I've culled from my quality time amongst the pretty people. You guess, I'll go to court:

I don't know about you guys, but when I get married, I'll wear a Dior gown (something better than Melania's, 'cause that thing was cheap), my reception will have a chocolate fondue fountain surrounded by ice sculptures, and my husband will sport a Bad Teenage Mustache—just like Kevin Federline! While Britney Spears and her houseboy are by no means competing in our Race From the Altar (their love is special, ya'll), Gawker is still happy to present images from the best day in the history of the world ever. Just some inspiration, you know, for your own nuptial plans. And, not to toot our own horn, but we TOTALLY scooped Modern Bride on this one. After the jump, choice wedding pictures worth slightly less than a thousand words.

Chaos at Ikea opening [Evening Standard, This is London]

The buzzards at The New York Post are circling above the head of Arthur Miller, speculating on the legendary playwright's health and practically calling the reaper on speed dial.

Well, here I am, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from my "vacation" at Fashion Week. And I have to confess: the Fall 2005 collections were everything I had hoped for and more. No, seriously. My zen time in the tents helped me to embark on some genuine self-exploration and reevaluation. I ve been making the wrong choices, heading down the wrong path—but no more. Things are going to change.

Okay, I m outta here. Your witty Gawker editor Jessica Coen returns tomorrow to take back the reigns. Many thanks to Jessica, Matt, Lock, and Choire, and thank you for all of your emails. I especially enjoyed the hate mail. Like when William emailed in to say that Noelle Hancock is to blogging as Chevy Chase is to talk show hosting.

· We missed this earlier, but 'Page Six' reports that Russell Crowe and wife Denise remained celibate three months prior to their wedding." Weird. Just wondering how his "other" wife—Danielle Spenser feels about that? [Page Six; IMDB]

Our peripatetic brother site needs your help. Since we know that Gawker readers are among Manhattan's most plugged-in, ultra-savvy denizens, perhaps you can help:

When Party Crash needs a Fashion Week fix, we go to Salon, natch. And who do we find? Jennifer Nicholson and her post-show party. The fashion designer (pictured above), whose daddy is Jack, threw a huge bash on Tuesday to celebrate her new Fashion Week collection. Special Correspondent Faran and Gawker photographer Nikola Tamindzic [gallery available here] brave The Fabian for this stylish party crash.

It's The Anna Wintour Book Club story hour! From page 215 of the Vogue editor's unauthorized biography, Front Row:

· Oh, my god, you guys. What if, like, Emily Brontë had set Wuthering Heights in a high school? Would we still have to, like, totally read it in high school? Tonight, Wuthering High, the new stage adaptation debuts at the 14th Street Y Theater. [Wuthering High]

Last night, Gawker Media Capo di Tutti Nick Denton hosted an intimate gathering at Gawkland, aka, The House That Links Built. (We only tell you this because he'd fire us if we didn't.)

From the brightly colored heroin distribution center in Bryant Park, Jessica emerges with a special report on the Cynthia Rowley show: