P. Diddy plopped on the couch for a round of Earth's most inane kaffeeklatsch earlier today to promote - what, exactly? Mase's new mixtape? Leather hooded Sean John parkas? The concept of Puffy? As they tend to when an unmuzzled Sherri Shepherd participates in them, the chat meanders idiotically until Joy Behar goes to the timeless comedic wellspring of Mr. Daddy's many silly names.
Friday
· Music round-up extravaganza! Van Halen rocks the Staples Center, The Deadly Syndrome and Eskimohunter play at Crash Mansion for the Holiday Christmas Sweater Party, Imperial Teen are at the Troubadour, RZA plays the El Rey, Apex Theory are at the Whiskey.
· 1928 silent film classic The Crowd—the first movie to feature a bathroom with a real toilet!—screens at the Aero.
You've perhaps caught wind by now of news that Lindsay Lohan has emerged from her post-rehab media-blackout cocoon in the most unlikely of places: A phoned-in interview to Las Vegas radio show Mark and Mercedes in the Morning, who were offering a pair of Hannah Montana concert tickets to anyone who could convince a celebrity to call them. (Lohan obliged for a friend's kids, apparently having used up her last favors with Ticketmaster the time she demanded a block of 4000 seats to a Stevie Nicks concert, and failed to show up.)
An interesting debate has erupted over at our East Coasted sibling site Gawker over the relative merits of Juno, the hippest, sassiest, teen-pregnanciest movie ever! While we don't get it at all—it was twice as adorable as Little Miss Sunshine, at least—you still may want to take a look. And for counterpoint, we offer director Jason Reitman and Diablo Cody, providing commentary over a scene that helps you understand why it all works so well. [Gawker, Slashfilm]
Hot on the heels of their merciless takedown of Tinseltown's most overpaid, the intrepid list-makers at Forbes are turning to the tots as they ask: Who's really the most influential drooling, mute, self-soiling celebrity baby? Lest you think this is some sort of metaphor, let us present—Hollywood's Most Influential Infants. You might think that ranking babies is too insane to be quantifiable, but rest assured that Forbes used an infallible algorithm in their computations:
PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are posted several times a week, so send them in often! 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 spotted KISS's Paul Stanley kvelling at his son's rock recital.
We take a moment now to salute Defamer advertisers, whom we crave this Christmas more than Clay Aiken craves black bodybuilder. If you'd like to stand in front of a mirror and flex your earning potential with some of the most intelligent, upwardly mobile, and freespending eyeballs on all of the internets, we urge you to go here.
American Gladiators first impressions, continued:
Toa: His bio states that "with his tribal garb and distinctive tattoos, he may conjure up images of an island paradise," although not with the force or immediacy that he conjures up images of a late-90's frat boy getting the "sweet ink" he'll come to regret when he starts going on job interviews. [AmGlad]
Conan O'Brien's parent company NBC Universal has just been sued over a Clay Aiken gay joke. (Is specifying "gay" joke a waste of typing?) The catch: the suit hasn't been filed by Mr. Aiken. This one comes straight from bodybuilder Dennis "The Menace" James, the Idol also-ran's punchline lust-object:
While their toe-tapping take on "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" was an indisputable hit with onlookers, nothing compared to the moment a solemn Kevin Arnold donned a white robe and angel wings, mounted a barricade made of discarded picket-signs, and belted to the tune of "O Holy Night," "No more we write/Nick Counter is a Wiener!" in his stirring, pitch-perfect mezzo-soprano.
· They aren't done administering the defibrillator to the dead-eyed corpse of late-night TV just yet: Some are buzzing that "several hosts" plan on returning to the air by January 7, making life a little less egg-pelty for Ellen DeGeneres and Carson Daly. [Variety]
· After next week, however, every scripted TV series shooting in LA will have officially gone dark, explaining the eerie, silent calm throughout the city, and the longer, sadder lines at the Coffee Bean. [Variety]
· A new ceremony from The Academy of TV Arts & Sciences "will highlight and demonstrate the good things that TV does." The first lifetime achievement award goes to Fox Alternative Programming guru Mike Darnell, for his "tireless efforts in furthering the cause of people being hooked up to a lie detector and forced to answer whether or not they are still attracted to their spouse on national TV." [Variety]
In an odd bit of slimy serendipity, Eater LA just yesterday noticed a promo for new Bravo reality show The Millionaire Matchmaker featuring none other than Dolce Group co-owner and criminal complaint target Lonnie Moore, essentially turning his televised search for Miss Right into Accused Rapist Love Connection. We'll be back in two-and-two. [Eater LA]
Because nothing says Christmas like the sound of a self-inking stamper ka-chunking the word "FILED" onto a criminal complaint accusing one of L.A.'s most high-profile nightlife impresarios of rape, we bring you this disturbing story: Last August, Skye-Anne Smith was an underage patron of local professional catfighting arena Les Deux. She claims Dolce Group co-owner Lonnie Moore, partner of Big Brother All-Stars winner Mike "Boogie" Malin, plied her with drinks, then led her to what she believed was the VIP area, but was actually a dimly lit "manager's lounge" equipped with a bed:
We get out of bed for days like these: The new American Gladiator bios are up on the NBC website. The return of American Gladiators. How has it taken this long? It's a mystery almost as profound as how a show about dedicated steroid-users shooting tennis balls out of a tennis-ball-shooting-gun at casual steroid-users ever went off the air in the first place. Regardless, it could not have picked a better moment for its triumphant return to the airwaves, as the unprecedented bloodlust of the American public's taste in entertainment dovetails perfectly with the unprecedented aversion of moguls and execs to give any money to talented people. We'll be glancing at the bios throughout the day. These are the real heroes. (Sorry, Hayden.)
Wait just one second. Why does the costume-making bear get to come back to Project Runway, while staph-infection Jack Mackenroth does not? One Jack fan refuses to take this lying down, and has started an online petition: "Jack has since made a full recovery but left Project Runway due to illness instead of elimination. This petition is an effort to show support and convince the producers of the show to allow Jack to return for the competition next season." [ipetitions.com via Queerty]
Andre Birleanu, the angry Russian who has spent a season on VH1's America's Most Smartest Model valiantly attempting to prove that being photogenic doesn't necessarily preclude knowing stuff like the square root of nine or how to correctly use the word "preclude," is now undoing any progress made with his complaint that the higher-ups at the net are "destroying" his career. Come on, Andre, you know what photosynthesis is and you don't know that stints on third-tier reality television tend to ruin their participants? Don't they teach you that in the radioactive pro-Communism indoctrination shelter where Moscovites go to high school? We learn this stuff in eighth grade. From Page Six:
Hello to everyone who used to work in showbiz back when it existed. I've been instructed to introduce myself. My name is Jarrett Grode, I'm a Los Angeles native, and a very sporadically employed actor, writer, and blogger. I will be guest writing for the site today while Mark does something Mark-like. If this goes well, it will have no positive impact on anyone or anything.
