A reader obliged us with some scans from the National Enquirer's Cameron-Diaz-Supposedly-Making-Out-With-Her-Producer spread (click image for a larger version). Our verdict: As wildly inconclusive as we hoped feared knew they'd be! If you look really closely at the one on the left, you can sorta kinda make out the silhouette of a nose and lips...but that would be really easy to Photoshop in...and her face could easily be on his shoulder instead of leaning in for a....[Sound of shotgun delivering blog editor sweet, sweet relief from having to look at questionable, blurry tabloid photography ever again]

Finally, someone posts a Craiglist housing listing that we can really get behind:

Yesterday, we posted a report about the suspect parking habits of our favorite fauxteur, Brett Ratner, who seems to think that his lack of a natural-born facility with a camera constitutes a "handicap." Shortly thereafter, another report highlighting Ratner's questionable parking ethics promptly rolled in:

The issue of the National Enquirer that hits the stands today features pictures of Cameron Diaz allegedly making out with a man that is not boyfriend/finace/lifepartner/whatever Justin Timberlake. Here's the thing: The NE identifies the guy as Shane Nickerson, a producer on Diaz's better-world-through-bungee-jumping show Trippin'. And, conveniently for those of us with internet access, Nickerson has a blog where he defends himself and recounts how a reporter from the NE showed up at his front door to confront him with the story (make sure you read the whole post to get his side):

Fishbowl LA points us to this deeply depressing Vanity Fair Q & A with Sue Mengers, the "first superagent," an interview so bleak it makes Sylvia Plath look like an aerobics instructor on uppers by comparison:

· "Reports of B.O. death greatly exaggerated": If you subtract The Passion of the Christ from last year's box office take, this year's business doesn't look nearly as shitty. [Variety]
· Disappointing Shrek 2 DVD sales in the first quarter send DreamWorks stock plummeting. Did the public finally decide it's had enough ogre cock shoved down its throat over the last year? [THR]
· Bob and Harvey Weinstein snap up Transamerica, Felicity Huffman's tranny flick, for their Weinstein Co. [Variety]
· ShitergyWatch: MTV and Nickelodeon sign Outkast's Andre 3000 to produce films and TV shows for their Viacom fiefdoms. [THR]
· And because Wednesday is Viacom day, VH1 president Christina Norman will take over MTV, while MTV VP moves over to run VH1. Got it? Neither do we. [Variety]

The Drudge Report, your source for incremental updates in the inappropriate sexual relationships of American Idol judge Paul Adbul, offers a new nugget: contestant Corey Clark claims he can ID a "distinguishing characteristic" on Abdul's body. Given the nature of his allegations, we're going to assume he's talking about the standard stuff: a third (or fourth) nipple, a vestigial tail, or an "Emilio Forever" tattoo in the vicinity of the pubis—but we're going to ignore that and offer our own wild guess (especially since Gawker already whipped out the barber pole joke). Abdul's lower abdomen contains a cassette deck, and when a lover inserts a cassingle of one of her top 40 hits, she spends the next three minutes involuntarily lip-syncing to the sounds of her past like a possessed Teddy Ruxpin. Hey, everyone's idea of foreplay is different. Don't judge.

Variety obtained the strongly-worded letter that Bert Fields sent to Page Six regarding their recent William Morris items, the first weapon in the Scary Hollywood Lawyer arsenal. An excerpt:

We think that we've finally figured out what caused the tragic rift between Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie. Richie felt that she and the naturally skinny Paris were drifting apart; she needs a friend who can better relate to the experience of having one's internal organs devour themselves in a desperate search for nutrition. Lindsay just gets her, ya know?

The morning of Day Three at the Ariannaville Times-Picayune showcases a profound breakthrough, as Huffington drags waterbedridden producing legend Robert Evans into the blogosphere by his gold chains and chest hair:

Last night, a window on William Morris Place was thrown open, and the screams of anguish could be heard from Shutters on the Beach to Dodger Stadium: "We're mad as hell and we're not going to take it anymore!" The LA Weekly's Nikki Finke sent out an e-mail blast reporting that WMA has hired Scary Hollywood Lawyer Bert Fields to "go after" the NY Post's Page Six (quotes hers, we would've gone with "deliver a legal donkey punch") for spreading "blatantly inaccurate" gossip that is "fed by rivals." The gossip rag frayed the agency's last nerve on Sunday, when they printed a rumor that the agency was so cash-strapped that they were looking to sell their spiffy headquarters to make sure they were kept in Cristal, Armani, and only the freshest babies for their breakfast buffet for a little longer. WMA, of course, is filthy rich; five minutes spent wading through the room where they discard the teeth yanked from the mouths of departing agents would yield enough gold fillings to pay all of their overhead for at least two years. Tears, retractions, and unprotected make-up sex to follow...developing.

· Today on the Ariannaville Times-Picayune: Adam McKay (you know him as Will Ferrell's personal writer) on Talladega, subtly plugging Talladega Nights but never outright saying the title, David Rees cheekily wonders when he gets to meet Gwyneth and slip Larry David his screenplay, and King Tut looks alarmingly like a bald version of Jaye Davidson in Stargate.
· Bloggers: The Sitcom: Naturally,"No pay, but DVD provided."
· Morgan Freeman wins the rights to morganfreeman.com, thus freeing him from the inevitable indignity of having his identity hijacked by Golden Palace
· Scientology Losing Ground to New Fictionology
· Ben Stiller: "the best-looking Jew in showbiz." Oh, don't worry, the guy who said this was just kidding.

· Writers Bloc presents an interesting pairing of journalists at the Skirball, as Linda Ellerbee joins in conversation with Skeletor. Oops, we mean Maria Shriver. Sorry! We looked at a picture before we read the copy.
· Author Steven Johnson reads from Everything Bad Is Good for You, in which he argues that pop culture is not necessarily responsible for the loss of IQ points, at Vroman’s.
· Comedy Death Ray returns to Mbar with The Fake Fake Show, this time featuring Zach "What's hiding in my beard this week?" Galifianakis and Brody Stevens.
· Concert Round-Up,Attack of the The Definite Articles Edition: The Ponys at the Echo, The Comas at the Troubadour.

Towleroad's Andy Towle wonders if something sneaky is going on with the upcoming release of the Alexander Director's Cut on DVD, which contains a version that's eight minutes shorter than the theatrical version. Odd, considering we'd expect Oliver Stone to throw even more of his "genius" at us the second time around. But why shorter, and why eight minutes?

Another piece of Brett Ratner's weekend, which was capped when he helped consecrate a nightclub in the new Wynn hotel in Vegas by grinding his private parts against an attractive woman as photographers snapped away, falls into place as a reader reports on the fauxteur's Friday whereabouts:

A reader spots actor Joaquin Phoenix, last seen checking into rehab about four weeks ago, out for a reasonably-priced meal with a gang of guys he either met "on the inside" or who badly need better agents and a fashion consultant:

We really don't know what to say about Liquid Generation's latest ripped-from-the-headlines Flash opus, which features a tighty-whitey clad Tom Cruise musing about his sexuality while wooing Katie Holmes with 50 Cent's "Candy Shop." How about this? Guys, even if your bones wind up ground into an omelet at the Celebrity Centre's Sunday brunch and devoured by lawyers, it was all worth it for the padlock on Holmes' panties.

Those Fox employees who failed to be impressed by their overlords' recent gifts of free corn-dogs and fake-tit-cakes may finally have an opportunity to rejoice: In its latest fit of largesse (and with News Corp profits down 8 percent), the Studio Store is waking its silent auction from a four-year slumber, offering clothes previously worn by stars in the Fox stable at bargain prices. From an e-mail announcing the sale:

Before everyone flips out about how inappropriate this headline is, they need to realize that Chocolate Hole's favorite couple met at a tsunami telethon. It's not tasteless, it's adorable! Also, it's perfectly apt: When we heard the news about the secret wedding, we instantly wished that our village would be wiped out by a tidal wave before we had to see them on the cover of People.

· Spamalot nabs 14 Tony nominations, and Doubt picks up 8, thus ending our interest in the Tonys until next year's announcements. [Variety]
· CBS and Sony throw bags at money (and a feature deal) at Kevin James to do another season of King of Queens, buying at least one more year before the the network has to figure out how to turn CSI into a sitcom. [THR]
· Ousted/disgruntled former Disney board members Roy Disney and Stanley Gold sue Disney for not conducting a proper search for a new CEO; once again showing that he's no Michael Eisner, new Mouse leader Robert Iger promptly orders his lawyer to key the troublemakers' cars [Variety]
· George Clooney signs on to play the lead in Michael Clayton, a lawyer who's known for "fixing" his clients' personal problems. Also, the lawyer is very, very handsome with an undeniable, rakish charm. Sigh. [THR]
· 20th Century Fox TV signs American Dad showrunners to a two-year, seven-figure development deal to create shows that are completely indistinguishable from The Family Guy . [Variety]