—Oliver Stone was wary about casting Colin Farrell in Alexander, but then Farrell put on a cheap wig and got drunk and handsy with the director. The rest, as they say, is cinematic history.
—Lindsay Lohan loses her black AmEx card, but realizes she left it in a club's bathroom. We wonder how a credit card gets into a bathroom. Those NYC pay toilets must be really expensive!
—If you missed it last night, you have a second chance to watch Jeopardy know-it-all Ken Jennings prove he ain't so fuckin' smart after all. Anyone else still want to beat him up?
—Separated at birth: Paris Hilton and Shannen Doherty.
—TVGasm outs Alias' Victor Garber, if he wasn't already outed before. Who can follow anything on that show?

· Have you exhausted all of the ironic possibilities of embarrassing yourself along to the music of others? Then Aireoke (tonight at Three of Clubs), the next logical (or is it absurd?) step in personal humilation, is for you.
· Hump Day concert call, in which we do our best to abuse the word "indie": Scandinavian indie-crooner Sondre Lerche at the Troubadour, San Diegan indie darlings Pinback at Avalon, and indie songsmith Rufus Wainwright does an in-store at Borders in Westwood.[Ed.note—Oops, that was last night! Intern flogged.] Indie-licious!
· Jonathan Franzen, the man who famously flipped off Oprah and her bestseller-guaranteeing book club (and later admitted to regretting it), reads at UCLA Hammer. See him before Hollywood ruins The Corrections adaptation, leaving the broken writer to wander the streets seeking to get shitfaced with the ghost of F. Scott Fitzgerald.

An anonymous prankster e-mailed us to lay claim to "leaking' the supposed lineup for next year's Coachella Festival on their message boards—a lineup which, in the words of one board poster, reads like a "Pitchfork reader's wishlist." Supposedly among the 2005 bands are David Bowie, Coldplay, REM, Tears for Fears (!), and just about any group anyone who's ever watched The O.C. has heard of. The hoaxer later copped to his cruel, indie ruse, but not before the story found its way off the music blogs and into some mainstream sources. The truly funny thing is that by the time everything is said and done, no one would be surprised if the invented list is at least half correct (right now we hear that the dates of the show aren't even finalized). All of this subterfuge is making us nostalgic for the more innocent days of this summer's festival, where we endured the brutal heat to get drunk and wander around looking for Seth and Summer.

We hate to dip into Craiglist a second time today, but if someone in Hollywood is desperate enough to issue a cry for help into cyberspace, it's our duty to help out however we can.

These insensitive fans obviously didn't read all the way to the end of the pamphlet Bad Times to Ask Your Favorite Charlie's Angel for a Quick Picture, where it clearly states, "When they're publicly grieving over the loss of a parent, spouse, or longtime companion." They probably stopped right after the one about "When you're in the middle of being assaulted by the Angel whose picture you're trying to take," just like we did.

Having Fred Durst show up in your sushi joint can't be good for business, regardless of whether or not he wants to hit on your clientele and start a beef after being shot down. (Was he panhandling for spare tuna rolls?) A reader recounts a recent brush with Durst, which is likely to drive A- and B-listers from the restaurant in droves:

A reader snaps a photo of the Tomkat's latest offering, momentarily silencing the critics who insist that our city is bereft of culture. She also muses about the sequel that is sure to come (pun totally unintentional). "I haven’t actually seen it, but I would imagine that Vol. II clears up any confusion by the circular storyline introduced in Vol. I. SPOILER ALERT!!! Don’t read past this point if you plan on watching the movie. Bill gets drilled."

· THR chooses slow-retiring Paramount head Sherry Lansing as the winner of the first Sherry Lansing Leadership Award. They'll soon announce plans to change the name of their publication to Sherry!, with Lansing appearing on the cover each month in a new, sassy-yet-sensible outfit. [THR]
· Les Moonves declares CBS' November ratings victory a "watershed moment" And you laugh when we tell you he's going to conquer the planet in a bloody invasion? It begins... [Variety, sub. req'd.]
· SAG/AFTRA contract talks with producers will begin Monday. By Wednesday, we expect to find SAG negotiators curled up in the fetal position, murmuring about how they really didn't want a better deal anyway. [THR]
· So much for those crazy 20th/FBC swap rumors: Gary Newman and Dana Walden sign new contract to stay on as presidents of TCFTV. Well, maybe we shouldn't quite put the rumors to bed...they're all still in Murdoch's stable. [THR]
· Now that they've got Tom Hanks on board, Columbia announces that The Da Vinci Code will hit theaters on May 19th, 2006. Mark your calendars, when you buy them at the end of next year. [THR]

Viacom co-president/bleach-toothed master of All Things Broadcast Les Moonves is really, really anxious to get his divorce over with. Obviously exasperated with the slow divorce proceedings instituted by his estranged wife, Nancy, Moonves has petitioned to have the status portion of the split changed right now so that he can be officially "single" so he can "go forward with [his] life, both emotionally and financially." Translation: Nancy can bleed him for untold millions later, but right now he wants to get back to schtupping Julie Chen without the guilt of a technical marriage weighing heavily on 'Lil Les. Who knew the little guy had a conscience?

The online albums chock full of pictures of Lindsay Lohan's bluntastic Turkey Day were quickly pulled. But Stereogum reminds us that the internet never forgets, and backed up the photos into another Picturetrail album on his site. Sometimes we love the internet so much we could cry.

We've seen some truly strange shit on Craiglist, but we submit this mindblowing Missed Connection for your bewilderment:

With the delicious testimonies of Disney CEO Michael Eisner and erstwhile superagent/president-for-a-minute Michael Ovitz fading from memory, the heat on The Hollywood Trial of the Century has all but dissipated. While Ovitz's pathological denial made him feel his time on the witness stand helped to rehabilitate his battered rep around town (being called a "psychopath" isn't so bad, right?), he took another beating in Tuesday's proceedings, when former Disney chief legal counsel branded Ovitz a "total failure." As if this tarring wasn't enough, Litvack dumped the feathers on the ex-president's head, sneakily impugning Ovtiz's vaunted lying ability by claiming that he never lied about any "material" issues while at the Mouse.

We've been tipped off to a Picturetrail photo album showing scenes from Lindsay Lohan's leisurely Thanksgiving vacation, where she and some of her old friends from home cruise around and snap pics of themselves smoking a big ol' blunt. (Actually, Lohan's clearly in the car, but seems to have escaped being captured in the act. We're sure she abstained.) The photos helpfully identify "Linds" and cheerfully narrate the 420 action with crackling captions like "WE GET HIGH IN BACK SEATS OF CARS!" You know, just to make sure we don't think they like really skinny cigars.

—By now everyone knows that insufferable all-time Jeopardy smartypants Ken Jennings goes down in flames tonight after a mere $2.5 million in earnings, but that didn't stop Sony from strong-arming blogger Jason Kottke into taking down his spoilers from the show.
—Maybe CBS didn't like the weird sexual objectification subtly encoded in their MILF-invoking Julia-Roberts-gives-birth headline, because they changed it.
—Someone should tell E! that a bad back and a couple of twins being born does not a curse make. Call us if Brad Pitt gets murdered by a mummy, OK?
—Tara Reid begs for tabloid mercy while crowing about picking up Anna Kournikova's sloppy seconds.
—Bad idea jeans: Licking Britney Spears' feet.

· Nerd alert: The ArcLight hosts a special screening of The Empire Strikes Back (we can't bring ourselves to call it Episode V), followed by a Q & A with director Irvin Kershner, the man who momentarily saved the series from George Lucas' destructive, fur-loving impulses. Yup, both showings are already sold out, but the resourceful fanboy can always find a way.
· Director Bill Condon and novelist T.C. Boyle discuss their dueling Alfred Kinsey works (Kinsey and The Inner Circle, respectively) at the UCLA Hammer Museum. Brace yourself for ribald, yet oddly clinical, tales of Kinsey's swingin' sex research team.
· Editor Kim Cooper and other contributors read from Lost in the Grooves: Scram’s Capricious Guide to the Music You Missed at Book Soup. You know, if you're into record collecting more than Star Wars or sex.

Fortunately, the rest of the People story is only available to subscribers, so no one has to have their daydreams about Paris' new wig (and her apparent run-in with a renegade needle full of collagen) interrupted by any of that icky death stuff.

Coming across an online "FYC" ad for Troy, we wondered how this year's other historical epic might capitalize on Alexander's notoriety to get some attention during awards season. Click the image to see a larger version.

Even with the spectre of layoffs still haunting Miramax's offices on both coasts, they're still looking for some fresh blood—we think Harvey Weinstein must really love the look of shock on a new recruit's face as he slashes an entire department on their first day. So, adrenaline junkies looking to get a foot in the door in the movie business, why not cut your teeth at the Max? Here are some of the prerequisites for the open Assistant to the Exec VP of Marketing gig:

Those sounds you hear are the simultaneous suicides of dozens of sitcom writers, despondent over the instant devaluation of their expensive Harvard educations.

NYT Hollywood reporter Sharon Waxman's technique for getting insiders to dish for her new book, Rebels on the Backlot, has finally been revealed: the good ol' fashioned threat of sodomy.