Newly pregnant Lisa Marie Presley is filing a lawsuit against our favorite celebrity body part attacking rag, The Daily Mail, after they reported their disapproval of just how much junk she's packing in her trunk these days. And while the Mail's use of "packing on the pounds" and "gained weight just like her father Elvis" isn't the nicest way to describe her, we've heard much worse over the years. From Val Kilmer ("Batman To Fatman!") to Kirstie Alley ("Too Fat For Sex!"), we rounded up some of the nastier cover stories and worst beach body analyses to put poor Lisa Marie's hormone-filled mind at ease.

· Adam Sandler, Seth Rogen and Leslie Mann will star in "Untitled Apatow Manchild Project" for Universal and Sony, providing ample opportunity for former Apatow-roomie Sandler to glimpse his director's flaccid manhood. [Variety]
· Mila Kunis will play opposite Mark Wahlberg in Max Payne, the movie version of the pulp noir videogame. Sadly, lack of cheat-codes will prevent audiences from seeing her blow some guy's brains out completely naked. [Link NSFW!] [Variety]

In case you hadn't noticed, Defamer spent some time under the knife of Dr. 90210 this weekend. While we are confident that you'll learn to love our freshly rejuvenated look, we realized that we may have removed some of our surgical bandages a bit too early. Specifically, we know that we're looking a bit shabby when viewed in the Internet Explorer 6 browser and on machines running Windows XP. Thanks for all of your comments and emails, we are working on all of these issues and are confident that a few timely injections of Botox will get us right as rain in no time. Fingers crossed that all will be well by the A.M., thanks for your patience. Now, on with the show...

Rocker/delusionist Courtney Love, has, according to the Sun, filed a report with the Van Nuys police department in which she claims to have been the victim of a massive identity theft operation. Among her allegations: That the thieves opened 188 credit cards (one for every voice in her head!) in her name, bilked Francis Bean's trust fund of $69 million, and purchased a $3.2 million home in New Brunswick using Kurt Cobain's social security number. TMZ did some sniffing, and found that the police had dismissed the case as imagined, and that Love had been "diagnosed with bipolar disorder." Which brings us to this response on her MySpace blog, where some of the most exciting advancements in the realm of post-linguistic lunatic theory are being made:

Though Heath Ledger was busy racking up film roles in the years leading up to his death that fattened his wallet, there was one practical economic task he overlooked: updating his will. According to the Daily Mail, Ledger hadn't rewritten the document since 2003, one year before he met Michelle Williams on the set of Brokeback Mountain. As a result, the actor's sole beneficiaries will be his parents and now-estranged sisters, which leaves his daughter Matilda and Michelle out of the picture. But a surprising lack of assets in New York begs the question: how much did Ledger have to give, exactly?

After being subjected to a tribunal of fanboy elders, the accompanying poster has been verified as royal Lucas portraitist Drew Struzan's official one sheet for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Bearing all the hallmarks of a great Indy poster, our only quibble was that it left us wondering how a Latino version of the most dynamic member of the What's Happening!! cast figures into the action of Crystal Skull, as we have no recollection of a Mexican Rerun having appeared in the film's trailer.

With its appealing template, risk-free poking opportunities, and wealth of human-bartering applications, its hardly a wonder that Facebook has really taken off in Hollywood circles. Best of all, its Status Updates feature lets you experience in real time the mundane ("Brad Grey is wondering how many times you have to say 'mustard on the side' before The Daily Grill begins to get it!"), the profound ("Diablo Cody is Diablo Cody is Diablo Cody is..."), the sublime highs ("James Cameron is telling you— Avatar is going to blow your minds!"), and, in the above scenario, the painful lows of a life lived in the industry. Unfortunately, no amount of clicking by director Roger Kumble on College Road Trip's Rotten Tomatoes page is going to inch up that unlucky number 13%, or append the consensus "woefully short on comic imagination" with the phrase "but long on keenly inspired directorial flourishes!"

As you recover from one of the more jarring daylight savings shifts in recent memory, try as hard as you can to avoid the stares of co-workers who can't help but notice you sporting your stubbornly punctual morning priapism. Perhaps the box office numbers will ease the transition:

· Brian Grazer currently culturally unattachéd.
· UTA removes, then returns, their assistants' names.
· The Pellicano trial is underway, but no one really cares.
· Ellen Page: Scissor Sister.
· Diablo Cody immortalized in drag.
· Think that's Paris Hilton's spiritual advisor? Think again, punk!
· Oprah helps makes Drew Barrymore's giant-check-donating fantasies come true.
· K-Fed packs on a few. But he's not the only one.
· Four words for American Idol: Stripper Boogers. Zonked Paulas.
· CAA Death Star felled by one burnt egg roll.
· David Caruso isn't good with props...or thresholds...or lack of sunglass close-ups.
· A terrible development for Patrick Swayze.
· Tropic Thunder goes the blackface-for-laughs route.
· Brian Posehn IS Thelma Dennis.
· 10,000 B.C.: Not so much.
· The little Chris Kattanish Muppet wins Project Runway.

· It's Celebrity Rehab graduation, and without giving away too much, we'll just say that it's never too late for a breakthrough.

· Our favorite American Idol Season 7 moment so far, in handy animated gif form.

· Holy shit! Scubacar!

· It's official: Jermaine Jackson's transformation into the creepy Nipsey Russell Tinman from The Wiz that used to give us nightmares as a kid is complete.

· Lisa Marie Presley didn't want to have tell you about the pregnancy this way, but now that you've all had a good laugh at those fat pictures...Fine! It's baby weight! Are you satisfied now?

· And finally, someone sent this to us, asking, "Is this a tip?" We really have no idea, so we throw it out to you. Is this a tip?

FRIDAY TO DO's
· Dust off your earplugs at the town tonight to catch New York Dolls at the Henry Fonda, Die! Die! Die! at the Echo, Division Day at Spaceland or Nerf Herder at Safari Sams..
· "Everything But the Kitschen Sync" at the La Luz de Jesus gallery is a much more exclusive and well-thought out art exhibit than its name would lead you to believe.

Trump: Barron, say hello to the group.
Barron: Haawdow!
Trump: And Barron hopefully some day will be a great entrepreneur. Melania, what do you think?
Melania: [Unintelligible] Vot vant do ven you grau up?
Barron: Beeednees.
[Laughter]
Melania: Beeezneesman. Zats riiiight. Like you daddee?
Trump: That is pretty amazing actually.
Barron: Daddee!
Melania: Daddee's a beezneesman. And vot doz daddee beeldeeng?
Barron: House.
Melani: Chauuuus.
Trump: He's doing well. Just 18 months old...
Carol: Wow.
Trump: ...and he's doing really well.

What exactly is a star to do when they've run out of things to snort up their much-abused noses? The Nesquik-laced coke trend had some buzz for awhile but quickly got old. Then Keith Richards tried an even more inventive trick by blowing rails constructed from his daddy's ashes. And let's not forget Steve-O, who decided snorting wasabi would make for a grand old time. But the award for most logical next snortable substance of choice must go to Amy Winehouse (surprise!), who recently kickstarted a brand new trend in nose candy parlor games with Kelly Osbourne in London this week. Details on the rules and regulations for a fun little lethal game called Gas Chamber after the jump.

Feeling hungry? Try snacking on our Dirt Sandwich, a wild and woolly compilation of the moments in celebrity infotainment programming that made us simultaneously groan, chuckle and hurl this week. As always, we force politely ask Intrepid Defamer Videographer™ Molly McAleer to watch this dreck all week so you don't have to. This week's highlights/lowlights include audio transmissions of John Ritter's surprisingly mundane final phone call to his wife ("I ate some pork left out in the sun") and the touching story of how Dancing With The Star's Marlee Matlin draws inspiration from a troupe of hearing-impaired ballerinas. Enjoy!

Finally! Someone has the guts to stand up for the world's downtrodden hotel heiresses, whose only desire is that they be left to live their lives in peace, free from the flashbulb-popping scavengers of the celebrity media. That's what has emerged from the recent photos published just about everywhere—including here—of Paris Hilton, accompanied by what turns out was not her guru, but an actor hired to fool us into thinking as much by Ashton Kutcher's new prank series, Pop Fiction:

While we certainly hope that the ladies of The View are ladylike when it comes to using the ladies' rooms at other lady celebrities' houses [Ed. Note - That's a lot of ladies!], the same can't be said for the men who man Barbara Walters' camera crew. In this clip, Walters politely told the story of how her visit to Casa Cyrus for her (barely watched) Oscar special turned into a literal shitshow, with toilets overflowing and Miley's "very nicely attractive mother" Tish bitterly hissing under her breath that she didn't mind one bit. But the icing on the shitcake is the way in which the Cyrus clan says "Thanks For Visiting, Come Again Soon!", which, in a surprising twist, does not come in the form of a Hallmark card, but rather an engraved tchotchke in the shape of a golden toilet.

That headband might be just a tad too tight, dear old Mischa. After all, how else to explain your decision to publicly pass on Gossip Girl than to blame it on a reduced flow of blood and oxygen to your pre-frontal cortex?

Maybe this is exactly what Sarah Jessica Parker deserves for toiling around fake city streets in stilettos and making it look effortless, resulting in hordes of tween girls mimicking the fierceness and wobbling around like fawlty towers. While shooting her 179th Vogue spread somewhere in Manhattan, the tiny dancer fell so far over on her tiny rump that the masses narrowly missed the opportunity to see exactly which style of wax Parker instructs her aesthetician to design (we're picturing a mini SATC logo, but on second thought, we'd rather not picture anything at all). More photos of the much-ballyhooed tumble after the jump.

PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are posted several times a week, so send them in often—the fate of the universe relies upon it! Submit yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line so we don't lose them) and tell everyone about the time you stumbled upon Ian Ziering getting a pedicure in a Hollywood strip mall.

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