The story's got everything:

Thanks to this week's sponsors, whose blood money paid for our weekend share — we had to pay extra, but we scored a great sleeping spot on the floor! Interested in joining the clique? More info here.

We'd never, ever call ourselves journalists, but a little investigative reporting* and some reader support has revealed the identity of Mary-Kate's personal leviathan. As confirmed by the above photos and a little handiwork on our TI-84 (formula shown above), the littlest Olsen's largest lover is indeed Stavros Niarchos III — or Stav, as his kitesurfing friends (don't ask) call him.

A reader dumps out the contents of the gift bag from a certain author/A-list war bride's book party for the whole internets to see. Unsurprisingly, the gratis knickknacks blur the line between the sublimely ridiculous must-have accoutrements of Hollywood wifehood and objects of ironic, yet somewhat conflicted, roman a clef writer scorn:

· Fight the hipsters for space to see Rilo Kiley at Webster Hall. Remember when singer Jenny Lewis starred in the cinematic masterpiece Troop Beverly Hills back in 1990? Shout at her to make a sequel. The world could use it. And maybe you ll see Shelley Long. [ohmyrockness]
· Chances are, your knowledge of Korean culture doesn t extend past kim-pap (if even(, so check out the Korean Film Festival, which screens classics as well as the newest hits. It s free, which should give you plenty of money to get that tasty kim-ba afterward. [Event Guide]
· Riton, a Brit pretending to be a sleazy Frenchman will be spinning downstairs at the the Tribeca Grand. He mixes glitchy machine funk, with kick drums and bass lines. Don't worry, everyone else there won't know what that means, either. [flavorpill]

A Defamer operative files a report about last night's American Idol finale and celebrity-starved after-party at SkyBar, where Hasselhoff roamed free, Idol losers enjoyed their final, fleeting moments of notoriety before Fox has them drowned in the Pacific, and where Bo Bice was already starting to reap the benefits of also-ran fame:

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

Page Six reports that the "Bel Air Burglar," the theif who may have been responsible for robbing Paris Hilton, Casey Johnson, and Frankie Muniz, has been brought to justice after making the critical mistake of ransacking the home of Girls Gone Wild titty-impresario Joe Francis:

· High-ranking DC politicos have reportedly told networks that Paris Hilton's soft-core Carl's Jr. burger ad should only air after 10 pm. For once, we're in favor of that sort of restriction — why don't we make it so the spot can only air between 11:45 and midnight? [Page Six]
· In-depth reporting reveals that Burt Reynolds might be a repeat offender when it comes to slapping journalists. You know, if Naomi Campbell had his baby, our defense budget could be reduced to a couple thousand dollars. [R&M]
· Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are still continuing with this face-sucking nonsense, which has conveniently distracted everyone from Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. There's a huge conspiracy going on here, but we're too stoned to figure out what it is. [Scoop]
· Lloyd Grove challenges actor Tim Robbins to settle their dispute with one final game of Street Fighter II. [Lowdown]

You know what I love about New York? The intense loathing.

Working class hero, Hamptons publisher Jason Binn.
So what are you doing for Memorial Day weekend? STD check-up? Making internet porn? Going out of town? We can assure you Gawker Special Correspondent K. Eric Walters is doing all of the above. But before he left the city early, we sent him and photographer Nikola Tamindzic to the Hamptons Magazine seasonal launch party. After the jump, more class than you can shake a stick at, all courtesy Mr. Jason Binn and his band of glossy thieves.

Yesterday marked the start of Fleet Week, that spring extravaganza during which Navy and Marine boys come to shore and invade the island. But before you strip off your sailor suit and head to The Monster or Lips to celebrate the arrival of fresh military men, be sure to address the important issues:

I don't know about you kids, but professional obligations (read: keeping up to speed so I could tell you what to talk about at the water cooler today) forced me to view last night's America Idol finale, in all two hours of its gay glory. And to what end? To see Bo Bice get flat-out ROBBED in favor of Kelly Clarkson, Jr.?! If this is a nation that can elect George W. Bush for a second term, certainly we could have had our shit together just enough to let a former cokehead make good on his promise to God that he'd clean up and be king of the musical puppets.

One of these men is the Olsen-eating giant seen walking arm-in-lifeless-arm with Mary-Kate. But which?
They are, clockwise from top-left, current favorite Brendan Fraser circa Encino Man, Greek shipping heir Stavros Niarchos (only available picture — possibly his grandfather), moody pseudo-intellectual Daniel Kruglikov, and John Lithgow as Roberta in the film adaptation of The World According To Garp. If it's the last one, there may be even more to this story than we thought. -AP

· Countdown to Celebrity Armageddon [Nick and Jessica Breakup Watch]
· Those indie rockers clearly have too much time on their hands. [Pernice Brothers]
· Graphic designers are a filthy bunch. [B3TA]

In a commencement speech at Berkeley this weekend, actor Warren Beatty finally gave voice to liberal Hollywood's frustrations with California's action-star-cum-governor:

We don't know if it's because he's been eating crayons or just the usual Elmer's products, but our spray-tanned brother to the West has spent the better part of his morning analyzing the images at right in hopes of proving US Weekly's claim that Disney spent a gazillion dollars on digitally reducing Lindsay Lohan's R-rated breast size in the much-anticipated, family-friendly Herbie: Fully Loaded. He's thinking that, given the images at right, the case for digital alteration could be made. We're thinking that, given that we're even writing about this right now, we need to lie down for a moment. If we're lucky, we'll fall asleep and never wake up.

· If your knowledge of the Flaming Lips doesn't extend beyond "She Don't Use Jelly," head to Two Boots Pioneer for tonight's screening of The Fearless Freaks. Brad Beesley's documentary follows the band from its Oklahoman roots to its current popularity amongst the Plushy set. [flavorpill]
· Team Sleep's show sold out at the Knitting Factory, Boredoms sold out Mercury Lounge, and Jonathan Safran Foer bought every last Bright Eyes ticket for tonight's set at Webster Hall. Befriend a scalper and make do. [Oh My Rockness]
· Having ourselves been to the Brooklyn Animal Resource Center, we think it's worth the $25 ticket to attend their art show tonight. Real playas pay $250 and get to take home an original work of art. [BARC]

Click to enlarge and vomit.
In a feat of brilliant timing and gastrointestinal magnificence, the 1/9 stairway at Houston greeted morning commuters with a display of what was most certainly fecal matter, artfully smeared about the station wall. By the time this photo was taken, MTA crews had attempted to remove the large quantity wallpoo but, it seems, stopped before the job was finished. Good thing, too — if we didn't see or smell shit in the subway, we wouldn't know where we were.

It's good to know that after all these years, Burt Reynolds is still kicking ass for no good reason. (Not that he needs a good reason — he's Burt fucking Reynolds and he'll do as he pleases.) At last night's premiere for his movie The Longest Yard, Reynolds slapped a CBS assistant producer for being remarkably insolent: