Longtime readers of Defamer know that we like nothing better than to break up the day with a dip into the Defamer Connections basket. This is L.A., however, where every taste and mathematical combination must be accounted for in the worthwhile pursuit of getting one's freak on, and thus requiring us to sometimes stretch the definition and who and what, exactly, constitutes a "connection." Which brings us to today's installment, via Craigslist:

· Fresh off of releasing one of the best albums of this still young year, Nada Surf will be headlining over at the Henry Fonda. If they don't float your boat, try The Vines at the Troubadour or Born Ruffians at the Echo.
· ALOUD offers a convo with David Hajdu about his book, The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America at the Mark Taper Auditorium at Central Library - OR- you could see Col. Lawrence B. Wilerson speak about the "Legacy" of George W. Bush at the Hammer Museum.
· American Cinematheque at the Aero Theatre has an Audrey Tautou Sneak Preview of Priceless followed by a screening of Amelie.

It's not breaking news that boinking a politician can really boost a call girl's career, but Eliot Spitzer's speed dial favorite Ashley Dupre is sure milking her fifteen minutes for all they're worth (and, apparently, they're worth a lot). Ashley, aka "Kristen," has gone from cokehead hooker to pop star and potential Penthouse pet in under a week, and it was only a matter of time before Girls Gone Wild parolee Joe Francis dug his grubby claws into her newfound fame. After recently offering Dupre $1 million to ride along on one of his pervy bus tours and getting denied, the annoyingly clever Francis dipped into his sticky archives and managed to dig out five-year old footage of none other than Ashley herself. To see how Ashley partied at 17, check out our clip, via TMZ, after the jump.

This just in: News of a bizarre death at Malibu land baron Mel Gibson's home today: "Law enforcement sources tell TMZ a construction worker committed suicide at Mel Gibson's house today. It happened at Mel's Agoura Hills home. The construction worker was 47-years-old. We're told he hanged himself." [TMZ]

Entertainment Weekly today published first-look photos of Benicio Del Toro in The Wolf Man, production of which recently got underway after a bit of a director problem that resulted from creative werewolf differences and budget issues. Regarding the latter, no less than 90 percent of Universal's reported $85 million appears to be dedicated to the area in and around Del Toro's head, down the classy metal fillings and hair that, according to make-up legend Rick Baker, must be glued on individually each day and requires an hour to remove after shooting. And while the replacement of helmer Mark Romanek for the far more benign Disney alum Joe Johnston continues to frighten us more than any cosmetic fangs, Baker's bounce back from the more singular horror of Eddie Murphy's Norbit make-up is a recovery anyone can get behind. [Oh No They Didn't]

Tina Fey, arguably the most powerful vagina-having joke force in the universe, has rarely minced words in the past when it comes to some of her lesser-abled collaborators, whether describing Paula Abdul as a "disaster" or Paris Hilton as "a disease-ridden fucktard" [Ed.note: Could we have an intern verify that?] But we never expected the 30 Rock star and showrunner to run off so freely at the mouth about her comedy giant equals, such as in the case of her surprisingly harsh assessment of Jon Stewart's more politically solicitous material:

Sad news for Kate Moss-aholics out there: the controversially hot-or-not former supermodel is engaged to another dirty-looking rocker, Jamie Hince, guitarist for The Kills. Judging by her former paramours, like Johnny Depp, Lemonheads frontman Evan Dando and our all-time favorite kitten-loving junkie, Pete Doherty, it's no surprise that W's April cover girl has fallen for another rough-around-the-edges bad boy. But must he look like such an eerie cross-breed of Pete and Amy Winehouse's Romeo, Blake Fielder-Civil? And more importantly, why does Kate insist on slobbering all over his neck? More pictures of the two new lovebirds, and what the notoriously vicious British tabloids have deemed Kate's vampire-like behavior, after the jump.

Hollywood narrowly averted A-list disgrace recently when it was revealed that George Clooney's aw-shucks humanitarian cred didn't quite extend to the extras from his new film, Leatherheads. In lieu of Universal's official launch March 31 at Grauman's Chinese Theater, the extras will stage their own red-carpet premiere in Greenville, S.C.. Reaction today is fierce along the Eastern seaboard, starting in Greenville itself, where one event organizer kept it real while Clooney's panicked flack urged calm:

Stumbling, bastard network The CW is reaching back for inspiration—all the way back to teen drama prehistory, that magical moment when single-celled organisms of privilege sprouted legs, slithered onto the Malibu shore, and eventually stood upright to become the cast of Beverly Hills 90210. There they flourished, living by the harsh natural law of survival of the tannest, and shopping and fucking the prime years of their lives away, with only the occasional rape and meth addiction to slow down the evolutionary process. Would lighting strike twice? That certainly is what The CW is hoping with its 90210 spinoff series. Variety has gotten their hands on the casting breakdown for a show centering around "the Mills family," who relocate from St. Louis to the titular postal service area. The primary players:

An angry movie watcher caught up with actor Jake Gyllenhaal in a Southern California parking structure, demanding that Jake give him his "hard-earned" money back for the film Zodiac. The disgruntled man said that it was a three hour movie where nothing happens, and even made extra sure to point out that, by the end of the film, the crime hadn't even been solved! Gyllenhaal successfully defended the film, citing it as some of his best work. He even went as far to say that Jeffrey Wells loved it. The Polo ensconced amateur photog then walked away frustrated, wishing that he would've mentioned either The Day After Tomorrow or Bubble Boy instead.

After gleefully watching along as Martha Stewart doused Conan O'Brien with all sorts of lush-inducing cocktails, from Guinness to gin to mystery concoctions, we put on our thinking caps and sorted through our clip-clustered memories. After we cleared the cobwebs a bit, we remembered that this wasn't the first time Martha shared her love of liquor with television hosts. Loyal Defamer readers will recall her 8am rise-and-shine mixers with Meredith Vieira on The Today Show last month, and insomniacs will certainly remember her booze-on-the-brain appearance on The Late Show last week (in which she listed at least four indecipherable drinks she calls her "favorites"). But her fondness of ladylike cocktails doesn't stop there. Intrepid Defamer Videographer™ Molly McAleer put together a burp-filled mashup of our favorite Professional Housewife's alcohol-drenched appearances of late; as always, video is available the jump.

Remember all that early speculation that New Line production boss Toby Emmerich's head wound bounce out the office door after the Great Warner Bros. Leash Yank of 2008, right behind those of co-founders Bob Shaye and Michael Lynne? Signs began pointing elsewhere not too long ago, and Claudia Eller confirms today that Emmerich is in fact staying on as New Line president and COO:

· Clint Eastwood will direct and star in Gran Torino for Warner Bros. While details "are being kept under tantalizingly tight wraps," muscle car enthusiasts are hoping the grizzled star of Dirty Harry will be voicing the Laser Striped title vehicle. [Variety]
· Juno-seeder Michael Cera in talks to star in Universal's Scott Pilgrim's Little Life, an adrom (adventure romance) about "a young slacker (Cera) who meets the woman of his dreams but finds that he can only win her heart by battling and defeating her seven evil ex-boyfriends." [THR]
· Anton Yelchin is in talks to play the Michael Biehn role of Kyle Reese: Post-Apocalyptic Warrior in McG's meaninglessly titled Terminator Salvation: The Future Begins. [THR]

The Oscars are sooo over. Or at least they are for a gang of upstart documentary experts who hosted last night's inaugural Cinema Eye Honors in New York, where a handful of acclaimed nonfiction films from 2007 refuted the penguins-and-climate change model that organizers say hijacked the Academy Awards a few years back. "When these movies don't get seen, you feel like you're fucking losing," said Manda Bala director Jason Kohn, whose explosive doc about corruption in Brazil won three prizes including Best Film. "You feel like somebody else is winning, and that person is no good." Except that filmmaker Alex Gibney also took home a prize for his recent Academy Award-winner Taxi to the Dark Side. All right, but next year, seriously: The Oscars are over. [indieWIRE]

How far David Letterman has come in his interactions with reality stars since the days when he'd require visiting Survivor castaways to stand in quarantine, disinterestedly lobbing questions about insect-ingestion from a contagion-safe distance of 15 meters. Now, they climb right into the chair next to him, just like real stars!

The last time Kirstie Alley appeared on daytime television (flaunting her slim-ish new frame on Oprah), we applauded the self-proclaimed Fat "Actress" for keeping up her promise to Jenny Craig. But after squirming through the appearance, we ultimately decided one daytime appearance was enough for us to stomach. Kirstie, however, seems to disagree. People is reporting that Alley has just signed a deal with Oprah's Harpo production company to host her very own daytime show (in addition to other potentially televised projects). As Alley herself put it, "Nothing shocks me. I'm a great listener. I'm a good comedian. And I won't lie - I live a beautiful life." But considering the ill fates of both Megan Mullally's and Gabrielle Carteris' attempts to lure housewives into their femme-angled daily circle of televised love, we have to wonder whether or not Kirstie's destined for cancellation, or fierce enough to carry on the tradition of fellow slim-ish daytime host Tyra Banks...

Admit it: you don't really hate The Hills. I mean, why would you? Yes, the real-people-in-fake-situations MTV phenomenon (which starts a new season on Monday) is profoundly shallow and vapid, not to mention potentially damaging to the young girls who look to the show for guidance on how to navigate their emerging womanhood and find only rhinestones and an empty cocktail glass. So no, I don't think 12-year-olds should be watching it. But for us, discerning and intelligent adults who maybe like to watch a soap every now and again (or, even, got a giddy thrill out of the more salacious parts of August: Osage County), The Hills is masterfully crafted, beautifully shot arch melodrama. You bring me the best of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, and I'll show you its parallel on The Hills. It's a picture of self-involvement and social anxieties that could be seen as representing the minds and experiences of many young people, only writ large and ludicrous. So you don't hate it, you just don't understand it yet. You're not caught up, you don't know the ins and outs of what's happened to our sun-melted friends in Los Angeles, lo (Lo!) these many years. I've provided a summary after the jump, with links to video of the most recent season. Give it a chance. If you don't like it, I'll shut up.

A disturbance in the Vince Vaughn-management force yesterday sent ripples across the universe; within minutes, the CAA Death Star had dispatched two TIE fighters to snatch up the free-floating superstar—just as they did with former UTA clients Jim Carrey and Will Ferrell. One lunchtime pitch session, catered by Zankou Baby, was all it took to convince Vaughn he had found a new family among the Dark Lords of the CAA Sith. [Variety]

Awkward auteur Woody Allen politely asks Donatella Versace how much longer does he need to stand here in order for Soon-Yi to get some free clothing. After Donatella incomprehensibly mumbled something in the lower-register of the baritone scale, Allen said that he had to excuse himself so that he could catch the score of the Knicks game. However, Donatella responded in kind by pulling a tattered Knicks schedule from her purse in order to prove that the Knicks, in fact, did not have a game that night.

Fans of The Hills, MTV's probing voyage past young Hollywood's vacant eyes and into the unknown landscape lying just beyond (turns out, the unknown looks a lot like the Beverly Center!), will instantly recognize Audrina Partridge in the explicit photos above links below. One of the show's pack of nocturnal, scene-crawling famepires, Partridge found a replenishing source of the C-list celebrity she so desperately needs to feed on being cast as the fiercely loyal sidekick to head Hills succubus L.C. Conrad.