There are at any given moment untold numbers of frightening ads for frightening things floating around Craigslist. But his might be the most frightening one we've ever seen:

You know what we love? Press releases, particularly those regarding arm-wrestling in the Bronx. Know what we love even more? The gimpy publicists behind the PR goodies in our mailbox, especially those who can't answer a simple question without using preprogrammed words and phrases. It's endearing, really.

We're totally watching more daytime television today than we'd like to admit and just now, Kathy Hilton is sullying up the ladies of ABC's The View. (Speaking of which, is Star Jones melting? She just doesn't take the weight loss well.) Kathy does her best to promote her reality show I Want to be a Hilton (premiering tonight! Whee!), but naturally the conversation has turned to daughter Paris. "I will kill for my children," she says. Good thing Hilton threw in that key preposition, or we might have had to actually like her.

FishbowlLA, apparently, was wondering about trend stories. Or, really, about the trends in the trend stories. Are they real? Where do they come from? And, especially, how do Times writers find out about them? Fishbowl, it seems, was particularly concerned by Zoe Wolff's piece in last Thursday's Gay Styles section, the front-pager on the allegedly new trend of pre-marriage couples therapy, based on "Erica, 30, a screenwriter in Manhattan," and her fianc . Fishbowl suspected that Wolff was merely writing about what was going on in her friends' lives.

Like sands through the hourglass, the Hamptons continue to hurtle away from reality: An East Hampton estate has sold for a record-setting $90 million, the highest number ever paid for a U.S. residential property. The 40-acre property is on posh Further Lane and features two guest cottages, a man-made pond, lap pool, sand dunes, and servant's quarters (but of course). The main house, however, only boasts three bedrooms and three baths — thus leading the buyer (some Swedish industrialist, as they all are) to feel that his purchase is downright modest.

· Roger Friedman has a play-by-play of Katie Holmes' romantic abortion with Tom Cruise which, when put on a timeline, is all the more frightening. [Fox411]
· Meanwhile, the lovebirds sure can rack up a hotel bill. [Page Six]
· Paris Hilton says, "I don't have bad luck." Remember this, dear readers, while we wait for the next sex tape. [Scoop]
· When you're Jack Nicholson, you can change the screenplay to your liking. [R&M]
· Microsoft billionaire Paul Allen leaves art world heavyweights stranded on the deck of his oversized yacht. Oh Bartleby, oh humanity. [Page Six]

Today's Page Six has a hilarious blind item — except it's not so blind. Thin ice as follows:

If you don't feel her pain, you're a total dick.
Rushing into the studio a mere "45 seconds" before the cameras went live, young Lindsay Lohan sat down for a chat with Matt Lauer about how she's "honest and an open book." On matters of her new movie, Herbie:

State lawmakers want to boost touristm with an "I Love NY Beer" campaign.

To those of you who are used to seeing nuggets of your internet goodness regularly reprinted in Page Six or reinterpreted in New York mag, the following will come as no surprise. For the rest of you innocent waifs, however, it's time to realize that your trusted journalists rely on the most questionable of sources:

When it's a hungover Sunday afternoon and you realize you managed to spend — without trying very hard at all — 80 bucks the night before on dive-bar beers, plus another $20 or so on cabs, and all you want to do is order in some greasy food, but you know that will end up costing $15 just for a burger and fries, and you remember the rent's due Monday, and you'll have to scrape together $1,500 for your tiny, ugly studio apartment, and you wonder why the fuck you chose such a ridiculously expensive city to live in, you can take solace in this: There are a dozen places in the world more expensive than New York, and at least you don't live in any of them.

The clouds have parted, the sun is shining, and sidewalk is glittering — it's Gay Pride Week, hurrah! But why, you must wonder, do The Gays celebrate the sin of pride? Why can't they celebrate all the deadly sins? A suggested schedule:

Defamer is committed to helping our celebrity neighbors (and all of us in this crazy town are neighbors, regardless of our zip codes, aren't we?) sell their home furnishings, whether they're looking to upgrade old pieces as their career heats up or selling their finer items to help make the mortgage. Craigslist has two wonderful listings from certified star Virginia Madsen (complete with photos of the items and the owner), whose furniture liquidation needs certainly fall in the "upgrade" camp:

Even though Shane West's name turns up virtually every week in our PrivacyWatch feature (we'd just assumed he's a guy whose job is to eat lunch 4-7 times a day in the most conspicuous places possible), we're still sent scrambling for the IMDb every time his name hits our inbox. But now we feel like we're even worse at our jobs than we'd previously feared, as this West character is important enough to have a publicist (who shall remain unnamed) sending out "items" about his birthday bash (co-hosted with music manager Eric Podwell—and yes, we had to ask someone who he "is"), which attracted party barnacles like the Hilton sisters, Kato Kaelin, and JC Chasez [all spelling/grammar errors *sic*]:

• A novel idea for improving cabs: Make the drivers run into each other less frequently. [Grubbykid.com]
• Items edited from Times's Sunday Styles gay-or-straight sidebar chart: favorite periodical, favorite blog, and favorite thing your ass. [TMFTML]
• How'd we not already catch the latest effort from the Krucoff Media Empire? Blottered is here. At least until he gives up on it. [Blottered]

The LAT's Hot Property column, your weekly guide to everything overpriced and celebrity-related in the local real-estate market, delves into the Malibu summer rental market, where the ridiculously wealthy can pay relatively piddling sums to spend the season insulated from the beachgoing hoi polloi. Here are some of the going rates to breathe the rarefied air (and hump like crazed, sandy weasels in the California king beds) of some fabulous landlords:

· Will Smith's better half, aka DJ Jazzy Jeff, headlines the Native New Yorker party tonight at APT. Alcoholic bonus: free Red Bull and vodka till 10pm. [flavorpill
· Because Movable Hype 1.0 and 2.0 weren't enough, Gothamist brings version 3.0 of their rock showcase to the Knitting Factory tonight. Those bloggers and their crazy technology jokes just don't quit. [FK]
· In the left corner, wearing the black trunks at Summer Stage, we have Modest Mouse. In the right, in the red trunks at Irving Plaza, we have the Killers. Let the battle of tweenybopper faves begin! [Upcoming x2]

We tried to avoid this one, but in the interest of national conversation, it'd be a reprehensible public disservice if we dared to ignore the latest news from Tom Cruise's Crazy Parade. At the London premiere of War of the Worlds, Cruise was squirted with water by fake journalists who were filming a prank show for the UK's Channel 4. While Cruise kept his cool, his response involved multiple uses of the word jerk, which seemed appropriate — this type of facial shot usually begins or ends with a jerk of some sort.

On Friday, we published an account of actor Chris Noth's conversation at the Entertainment Weekly party, much of which revolved around his distaste for Gawker and, more importantly, our inaccuracy when discussing whether or not he wears slippers on the subway. Our response to Noth's conversation prompted one impassioned email (universal [sic] applicable) that really hit home:

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