· Leonardo DiCaprio was attacked with a bottle at Rick "One Night in Paris" Salomon's place, but thanks his lucky stars that something truly horrible didn't happen to him, like getting blasted in the face with a highly suggestive stream of liquid by British pranksters. Shit, stitches ain't nothing, Leo.
· Or if the video of said face-blasting was set to comical background music, that's probably not an optimal situation, either.
· Fugmander-in-Chief Jessica has a real-life run-in with an object of her fashion scorn. There are fireworks.
· "There are too many fawning entertainment shows out there and not one of them is making fun of it all." And thus is born The Showbiz Show with David Spade on Comedy Central. Now if only we could adapt this idea of mocking Hollywood for the internet, we might really have something...

· For a mere five dollars, you can celebrate the final season of Six Feet Under by attending a listening party for the show's soundtrack CD, Everything Ends, at the Knitting Factory. Or for the price of a cheap bottle of whiskey, you can do what we're doing instead—taking a shot of booze every time we see a sign that Jeremy Sisto's character is about to relapse into batshit, tattoo-carving insanity.
· Here's a fun game: see if you can untangle the party info from the list of sponsors: "Spin Magazine presents The Century Plaza LAFF Premiere Party at The Viper Room with free Absolut cocktails." If you've figured it out, say the password "chilidog" for entry.
· Michael Cunningham, author of the novels The Hours and A Home at the End of the World (the movie version of which famously starred Colin Farrell's penis), reads from his new book, Specimen Days at ALOUD at the Central Library’s Taper Auditorium.

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*]:

In today's Page Six, Entourage cast members continue to blur the line between the make-believe Hollywood that we live in and the fictional Hollywood of the show, as Jeremy "Ari Gold" Piven admits that, like his character (Ari's reliance on them was mentioned on the show last night), his love machine is sometimes powered by boner pills:

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:

While the The NY Daily News' legal department was passed out underneath tables at various Hamptons nightclubs this weekend, Ben "Gatecrasher" Widdicombe snuck this highly anonymous, completely inscrutable tidbit into his weekend column:

Congratulations to Elise Hartley, Steven Selikoff, Darren Shewchuk, Ashley Daneshgar, and Jerome Duboz, whom have apparently survived both the William Morris Agency's desk-monkey gauntlet and its arcane promotion ritual (think Crisco, spiked fraternity paddles, and three days of copying non-disclosure agreements with their own blood) to become Full Fledged Agents. Huzzah! Send us the dry-cleaning bill for the first cup of coffee you toss on your new assistants. And thank you, Variety, for publishing this announcement and letting their parents know what they're up to—they were undoubtedly worried that their starry-eyed kids were doing something marginally less respectable since moving to L.A., like selling homeless people's plasma to the blood bank as their own and stiffing the donors on their cut of the profits.

· Unintentionally (we hope) hilarious quote of the morning: "'Anything where you have a dog in that superhero context, that's appealing on a global basis,' Barber said." Yes, this can mean only one thing: Underdog will finally become a live-action movie and attempt to slake the world's unquenchable thirst for canine superheroes. [Variety]
· Laurence Fishburne and Phillip Seymour Hoffman join the cast of Mission: Impossible 3, are contractually obligated to spend at least half an hour of their downtime each shooting day admiring Katie Holmes' huge engagement ring in front of members of the world press. [THR]
· Reflexive Self-Deprecation As Sad Truth-Telling Department: Woody Allen describes his role in his new movie: "I play a low-grade American entertainer, which is perfect for me because that's what I am." [Variety]
· ABC wins Sunday with Game 5 of the NBA Finals, more by default than by anyone's interest in the Spurs or Pistons. [THR]
· Trying to get in on some of the "there's nothing else on, so why don't we watch semi-famous people doing activities to which they're embarrassingly ill-suited" craze started by ABC's Dancing with the Stars, NBC preps I'm A Celebrity But I Want to be a Pop Star. Yes, really. [Variety]

Poor Vince Vaughn. Not only is he plummeting down MSNBC's 'It List', but up until about ten minutes ago, the list makers couldn't even tell him from Mariah Carey.

By lunchtime on the West Coast, it's unlikely that there will be a single human being who hasn't seen the video of Tom Cruise getting blasted in the face with water from a prankster's microphone at the London premiere of War of the Worlds. The four menaces responsible were immediately chastised by Cruise, who called their "joke" "incredibly rude" and the trigger man a "jerk," then arrested on suspicion of assault (and later released on bail, pending possible charges by the victim). The always magnanimous Cruise probably won't press on with criminal charges (after all, he's done "enough publicity" for WOTW already); instead, he'll likely demand that the misguided quartet accompany him to the Celebrity Centre, where they will sit in an auditing room with the star until he can re-clear the repressed memories that cruelly flooded from the tip of their trick microphone.

Like spilling a hot cup of coffee in your lap just to find out if you can still feel anything, a run through the Monday morning box office numbers:

· Scarlett Johansson bolts the Celebrity Centre, and Mission: Impossible 3, rather than wind up being proposed to on the Eiffel Tower. Who says these young starlet types aren't smart?
· The Maui Film Festival fetes The Butterscotch Stallion, the Caramel Mustang, and the Relatively Obscure Pinto.
· Note to Mena Suvari: If you let yourself be photographed coming out of a bar with a butch companion hanging all over you, people are gonna talk.
· This will probably give us nightmares all weekend.
· You tell 'em Bo! Winning is totally for pussies.

Friday
· Freitagnachtmusik: Nerf Herder, The Orange Peels, and Le Rev at Spaceland; Electrelane and Be Your Own Pet at the Troubadour; The Blood Brothers and (the presciently named) Plot to Blow Up The Eiffel Tower at the El Rey.
· Jerry "Permanent Midnight" Stahl and others read from The Cocaine Chronicles at Skylight Books. Wasn't Stahl more of a heroin guy?
Saturday
· Saturday Night's Alright For Music: The Makers at Spaceland, Phantom Planet and The Like at Downtown Gallery; The Adored at the Knitting Factory.
· A reader's convinced us that the "Portraits" Exhibition at BambooLane/Revisited is worth some eyeball time, so check it out here.
Sunday
· It's Father’s Day! If you finally find him, maybe you can bond over brunch or a round of golf. We hear fathers like that stuff. Otherwise, drinking alone has always worked for us.
· One of our writing heroes, TC Boyle, will read do a reading with daughter K. Kvashay-Boyle at the Hammer Museum.

Forbes has once again released The Celebrity 100, its power ranking of the rich and famous, and we're happy to announce that this year Oprah Winfrey bestrides her illustrious peers like a book-pimping, Dr. Phil-enabling, Cruise-wrestling Colossus. Winfrey topped Tiger Woods, Mel Gibson (Jesus wasn't quite as hot as last year), George Lucas, and Shaquille O'Neal, all of whom are now obligated by Forbes tradition to spend a week each feeding her grapes while clothed in humiliatingly frilly underthings. We hear that Lucas' garter set will be particularly emasculating.

You've long suspected it, but now there's proof: Chinese DVD pirates write much better dialogue than George Lucas.

In what should have been a joyful collision of two of our obsessions ("Hey, you got your out-of-control starlet in my desperate action-star!" etc etc), Lindsay Lohan gleefully hopped upon Jay Leno's couch last night in imitation of one crazy-in-fake-love Oprah guest, and in so doing, forcibly retired the kinetic poetry known as Doing The Cruise. This is a sad day at Defamer HQ indeed.

We take absolutely no credit for the side-by-side or the inspired headline, both of which come straight from Feh. Also check out the flattering photo of Will & Grace creator Max Mutchnick accompanying a knee-capping of the Four Kings pilot.

A Defamer operative breaks down the gift bag from last night's LA Film Festival kickoff event, reminding us all that even if a partygoer has had a nice enough time pounding down your free liquor, all he's going to rememberis the lame sack full of mints, popcorn, and foot maintenance products you hand him on his way out the door:

You're probably already playing hooky (or at least nipping at the flask in your cubicle) on this early Friday afternoon, but still we offer your weekend box office instructions: