We are constitutionally averse to blind items, but due to an extremely drunken (again with the booze, we know) promise, this is the only way we can deliver the goods. A little snow birdie told us that when a very well-known television actress couldn't find the driver of her chauffeured car, she, er, "appropriated" the vehicle so that she could make it to a movie premiere party on time. We have no idea what happened when the driver discovered that his car was missing. Happily, the actress did make her party.

While we're in a correcting and setting-the-record-straight kinda mood, another attendee of the Desperate Housewives media event offers another take on what went down:

The Phototopia blog has some pics of Dave LaChappelle, director of the krumping doc Rize and Sundance's most talked about drunk-and-disorderly auteur. That thing on his head really does look like a badge of honor from his run-in with the cops.

In yesterday's post about Pretty Persuasion, we wrote: "Not too notable, other than the myriad fellatio scenes (both of the boy-girl and girl-girl variety)..." Many of you have written in to correct the egregious error in that sentence, noting that the girl-girl oral stuff is technically known as something called "cunnilingus." We regret the error, and as much as it's a cop-out: We were drunk. We haven't written a sober word in about four days. Haven't you been reading the Sundance coverage?

Special thanks to Choire Sicha (remember him, our incredible guest editor for the week between Christmas and New Years?) for running some commentary for us about the Oscar noms in a timely fashion while we were working on our second or third hour of "sleep."

We're still asleep—heck, we're still drunk—but it's our drunken duty to post the Oscar noms and go back to bed.

We hear that Jerry Bruckheimer bought the feature film rights to this sign on Main Street earlier today for $4.6 million. Expect Icicle! to hit the multiplex in summer 2006. Michael Bay is already in talks to direct.

From Craigslist, and yes, there are pictures:

Couldn't get a signal to post from inside the theater, but we finally hunted down some WiFi access after the screening of Pretty Persuasion, a Heathers-y high school dark comedy with Evan Rachel Wood, James Woods, and Ron Livingston. Not too notable, other than the myriad fellatio scenes (both of the boy-girl and girl-girl variety*) and Woods' hilarious, pill-popping, virulently "truth-telling" (read: racist), Beverly Hills dad in decline. Tries to score too many easy points off Arabs (hey, some of them wear these crazy scarves on their heads, don't speaka the English so good, and don't even know what lesbians are! And don't get us started on the anal sex!). But we digress, we're far too hung over to write a review. The buzz had been pretty good (people love their jailbait blowjob scenes) and the wait-list tickets were snatched up very early. But: eh.

Before the movie started, watched a guy admiring his picture in the paper (couldn't tell, but looked like the NYT) with a friend of his. Didn't seem to be an actor, though. Even Sundance has a theoretical limit to the number of clichés it can support at any given moment.

A funny thing happened on Saturday night as we waited in line to beg our way into the Entertainment Weekly party, where the likes of Casey Affleck, David Schwimmer, Adrien Brody, Tom Arnold (!), and Crispin Glover were hanging out. (We got in eventually. Yay for free booze!) The Apprentice season one champ Bill Rancic sashayed up to the entrance and walked right in with barely a nod to a publicist. About ten seconds later, an enraged staffer stomped out to let loose on her gatekeepers. "Who the hell let The Apprentice guy in? I told him 17 times that he can't be here. He's not on the list, he's not confirmed! He's not supposed to be here!"

Ernie Hudson walked into Defamer HQ (the lounge at Sundance's home base in the Marriott) and embraced a producer type.

· Jeff Zucker takes a cue from American Idol contestants, putting a happy face on failure and falsely singing the praises of network parity. Don't let them see you cry, Jeff—at least not until you're in the confessional. [Variety]
· Audrey Tatou joins the Hanks-led cast of The DaVinci Code, instantly making the whole movie adorable and quirky. Aw. (Still, we were rooting for dark horse Rachel Weisz, who admits in the February issues of British GQ that hell yes, she's fluent in French. Whatever, Audrey.) [THR]
· The Aviator gains Oscar momentum, winning the Producer's Guild Award for Best Picture. [Variety]
· "The biggest problem this year" at Sundance "is all the 'special' people who want 'special' attention, who want tickets at the last minute. When we say no, they get pissed off and start threatening to throw rocks at us." Our bad! Sorry, we'll quit it now. [Variety]
· Disney launches 24-hour news network, ABC News Now. The net will differ from others by making their overblown and biased coverage available "at any time of day over any device." [Variety]
· Nicholas Cage to star in biopic of legendary gambler Amarillo Slim Preston, thus singlehandedly oversaturating and killing the trendy poker-playing market. [THR]
· ABC chief McPherson reflects on net's success, citing the "sameness" of procedurals as the catalyst for shows like Desperate Housewives. Look for the "sameness" of suburban soaps to open the door for another network in about three years. [THR]

Sure, he has a name, but we'll always remember him this way.

As we were walking down Main Street Sunday afternoon, we saw a huge crowd of teenage girls assembled outside the Fred Segal store, screaming "I want to have your baby!" and "You are soooo hot!" Was a Timberlake sighting in the offing? We finally fought our way through the throng to see what kind of pop-star had the YM set in such a lather, discovering that it was Napoleon Dynamite's Jon Heder, the spastic darling of last year's festival, getting the N'Sync treatment.

Remember that endearingly self-effacing acceptance speech that Teri Hatcher gave after winning a Golden Globe last Sunday? The one where she tearily admitted that her career was in the dumpster before Desperate Housewives came along? Maybe all of that post-Globe partying erased that part of her memory, as she was a no-show at a publicity event last night. An anonymous media member reports that the Housewives set might be getting a lot more divatastic in the near future:

Just a gentle reminder: We posted a bunch of reports (i.e. an excuse to expense five bottles of vodka and very, very chilly "relaxation session" in an alley off of Main Street) this weekend, so don't be afraid to scroll down and check it all out. We'd hate to think that the torture we put our liver through pounding down Mormon reduced-alcohol-content booze in the name of "man on the street reporting" was all for naught.

The celebrity circle of life, as illustrated by two headlines:

A funny thing happened while we're away at Sundance...studios continued to release movies and theaters kept showing them. Sort of. We were under the impression the rest of the world stopped while Hollywood freezes its ass off in Park City.

A reader submitted this picture and a brief note: "Swag gone wild.....celebrities stealing from the Humane Society of the US.....a charity campaign to save baby seals..."

Today everyone was talking about how Paramount snapped up Hustle & Flow, the pimpin'-ain't-easy-so-I'm-going-to-be-a-rap-star movie produced largely with John Singleton's own money, for $9 million bucks. We caught the premiere screening last night (incidentally, it was the first time director Craig Brewer showed it to the cast), and we can pinpoint the exact moment we knew it was going to sell and sell big: The instant the closing credits came on, a conga line to kiss star Terrence Howard's ass formed. Be the first to smooch the pooper of the breakout star! When Howard was called to the front of the theater by Brewer for the Q & A, an agent type (might've been his) immediately filled his seat and started talking to his girlfriend.