Shortly following this morning's interview with Angelina Jolie (we hear Jolie refused to sit with Couric, thus allowing Ann Curry to steal the passive-aggressive show), some inter-host dialogue for the ages:

Verbose Coma witnessed the clusterphooey outside the Mercer Hotel when alleged phone-wielder Russell Crowe's luggage left the premises, and they took all kinds of pictures. The best part: The guy standing on a sports utility vehicle to get a better shot of ... well, we're not sure, exactly. You realize that the bald concierge with the luggage is gonna be in In Touch this week. Unless, of course, he actually is Moby.—WL

Bringing new meaning to the word beauty.
Don't know about you, but we prefer to live vicariously through others. Thus the logic behind sending Gawker hack-at-large K. Eric Walters and softcore lensman Nikola Tamindzic to the Beauty Bar last night for their monthly, debauched, Sunday night beauty pageant. Dan Drogenous, LuLu, and the estimable Michael T after the jump. (Arguably NSFW, or at least until you send the link to your superviser.)

In our inbox, a simple request:

· Transatlantic pop-punkers the Futureheads come to Webster Hall tonight to make the indie kids dance. Or at least stoically cast judgement upon those who decide to dance. [flavorpill]
· Find out what subsect of British culture Nick Hornby dissects this time around at the Barnes and Noble on E. 17th street, where he reads from his new book. [Paper]
· Channel your inner Fiddy at Rothko's Hip Hop Karaoke. Bling and semi-automatic weaponry optional, but highly recommended. [HHK]

The Defamer Special Real Estate Correspondent once again takes us deep inside the LAT's "Hot Property" column, puzzling over why the formerly security-conscious Penelope Cruz swapped her gated residence for a seemingly less secure homestead:

Unless you're nine years old, it's hard to be murdered in New York City. The city released its 2004 crime index numbers today, and crime is down 4 percent from last year. According to the city, New York ranks 221st out of 240 cities nationwide in the crime index. Just to taunt, they point out that the murder rate of 7 per 100,000 people is substantially better than Los Angeles (13.5), Chicago (14.5), Philadelphia (22.1) and Detroit (41.5; apparently in Detroit, they just pop people right at the border). This is all fine and good, of course, because dying is not fun, particularly when it ends with someone holding your wallet and dragging you into an alley. On the other hand, we can't help but think that the lack of death is the reason our rent keeps going up. —WL

Tyra Banks has some competition — or, as she might put it, there's some angry boos all up in her ba-dunk-a-dunk. After two years of glorious, unchallenged supremacy with her reality-driven, special-ed friendly fashudrama America's Next Top Model, Banks is facing a direct threat from the axis of evil: VH1 and the imperial Wilhelmina Modeling Agency are working together to produce The Agency, which will follow the booking agents at Wilhelmina as they scurry about, trying their hardest to lure some languishing twig out of her bed for less than $10,000 a day.

The gross injustices of Manhattan's First Precinct, in broad daylight.

Sightings are sent in by readers; send yours to tips@gawker.com.

· Oh my God, social butterfly Fabian Basabe might actually be — gasp — poor. To think of all the time we've wasted covering him, when he's nothing more than a closeted pleb. For shame. [Page Six]
· Tom Cruise is increasingly crazy. [R&M]
· If you dare ask Brangelina about their African goat sex, they'll fuck you then sue you. [Page Six]
· Everyone hates Endeavor, especially the cast of HBO's Entourage. EP Mark Wahlberg admits there have been physical altercations between him and agent Ari Emanuel, which we're supposed to believe is "normal." [Lowdown]

You thought Corey Feldman had hit rock bottom. "The Surreal Life" was as bad as it could get, right? Or maybe it was playing himself in "Bikini Bandits?" Or maybe it was that he didn't get called to testify at the Michael Jackson trial? But nope. Feldman has now topped himself, or bottomed himself, as the case may be.

Tom Cruise continued his Turn Off The World publicity tour (What exactly is he promoting again? We think it's a badly-written romantic comedy involving that chick from Dawson's) with an interview that aired on the Australian 60 Minutes this weekend. And once again, a foreign reporter (shades of his infamous Spiegel interview, with a little Access Hollywood thrown in) manages to work Cruise into a Hubbardy lather over Scientology, as the star charmingly compares the insinuation that his "church" is perceived by some to be part of the "lunatic fringe" to the burning of synagogues, then manages to work in a dig at his sworn enemy, the psychiatric profession:

Today's Daily News contained a lovely surprise: Rush and Molloy are reporting that my large-headed gimpmaster is searching for my replacement. This was news to me, of course — but, just as Jennifer found out Brad was fucking Angelina in Africa thanks to US Weekly, I've learned that Nick Denton has hired Radar's token hetero, Chris Tennant, to replace me. Seeing as I've caught on to the master plan, I expect to be bound, gagged, and shoved in a trunk any minute now.

Did you know there was a place in New York called "New Dorp Beach?" We've been here a while now, but we'd never heard of it. Though we're told that it was a big controversy when Dorp Beach changed its formula to New Dorp Beach. Fortunately, the best-selling video series "Dorp On Golf" has apparently kept the Staten Island community in the public eye.

The Tonys were last night, and "Spamalot" and "Doubt" were the big winners. Early overnight ratings are not in yet, though, like all Tonys shows, it was likely viewed by a few thousand people in New York, and four people in Tennessee who thought they were watching Van Helsing.

I don't know how to tell you guys this, but... Politicians are pretty damn cozy with the media. Also: Manhattan is an island, the subway smells like ass, and the sky is blue.

Apparently, that Dell dude isn't the only guy all uppity at 4:20 in the morning. Russell Crowe was arrested this morning at 4:20 and charged with throwing his telephone at a Mercer Hotel employeee during what the BBC calls a "row." (They're very cute in England, with their funny words.) Early details are sketchy, but Crowe must show up at Manhattan Criminal Court today to face the second-degree assault charges.

Hello. I'm Will, and it is important that you know that I am pure of heart. This is my first time as a real, live blogger, as they say; at The Black Table, we have always denied we are a blog, if just because we thought that would hurt our chances to get girls. Anyway. I also have done work for Radar, and it's worth noting that I think the magazine is actually good, and that everyone there is nice and handsome and strangely tall. I am also catastrophically sunburned. So here I am. Rock me like an extreme weather pattern. Let's get krump! -WL

Proving NASA's theory that no human being can tolerate the pain of working with yours truly for more than 10 days, we've moved on to our next helpless soul, Mister Will Leitch (pronounced "leech," and best delivered with a note of sympathy for poor Will's brutal childhood). Will is managing editor of The Black Table and author of Life as a Loser, and his interests include freshly-cut flowers, high thread counts, and rare blends of hot cocoa — all of which helped him fit in with our friends at nuevo periodico Radar, where Leitch was most recently a contributing editor. Having now chosen to pursue the glamour of our revolving roster of underemployed freelance writers, you can catch Will smoking in the Gawker bathroom. Be nice, and maybe he'll let you touch his collector's edition Zuckerman Zippo.