· On today's Martha: "Hey, Marcia Gay Harden, star of Into the Wild, have you ever actually known anyone who's 'gone into the wild?' No? Huh, that's funny. Because I do, and she never came back. Well, since you don't have any topical stories about tragedy to share, what do you say we get back to pretending to make these cookies or whatever."
· Have you ever noticed that all of the white protagonists in Wes Anderson movies seem to work out their romantic issues with ladies of color? Well, someone did. [via Feministing]
· Beckett Boo, Esq., catspotter extraodinaire, has been to Promises.
· The headline of the day, and it wasn't even close: Sculptor's crack baffles art world. Do we even care what the story's about? No, not really.
· Shooting on David Hasselhoff's new E! show has apparently begun ahead of schedule.

Had you told us that Sarah Jessica Parker not only has a signature perfume, but has one that racked up $57 million in sales, we'd chuckle lightly and explain how that was simply impossible, as no woman in her right mind would spend a red cent to smell like a well-heeled Manhattan dowager with a documented drinking problem. (Who can keep straight where actress begins and character ends after six seasons?) And yet, nestled in a Forbes slide show covering the bestselling celebrity fragrances of all time, is that astronomical sum—what Parker's Lovely earned in 2006 alone.

So you can imagine how excited we were to see the new trailer for Confessions of a Superhero, a documentary about the people inside those ill-fitting spandex unitards that might actually satisfy our weird hero-jones in between the maddeningly infrequent times Angry Chewbacca gets liquored up and goes on a tour-guide headbutting spree. Or one of the Dueling Jack Sparrows gets so upset over his competitor's craft-debasing nonchalance about pirate-verisimilitude that he pulls out his dreadlocks with his bare hands. Really, we're not that picky about the specifics if it draws the KCAL9 van to the scene of the crime.

Producers are keeping details of the fourth installment of the Raiders franchise close to the vest—one extra who blabbed its secrets to a local paper was famously poisoned to death by what are suspected to have been a plate of bad dates—but even George Lucas can't help but spill a few beans when asked by an MTV News reporter about the crystal skulls that drive the movie's plot:

We're one step closer to the end of the waking nightmare represented by Kiefer Sutherland's ongoing DUI case, as his Hollywood superlawyer has entered a no contest plea on the actor's behalf. Now we have to wait until December 21st for the sentencing, hoping that he receives the wrist-slap that will allow him to get back to the important business of being The World's Drinking Buddy™ as quickly as possible. [TMZ]

· Music round-up: Datarock at Ameoba; Carina Round at Largo; Mandy Moore (& Friends!) at the Hotel Café.
· Photographers Peter Menzel and Faith D'Aluisio discuss their book Hungry Planet: What the World Eats at the Skirball, presenting a slideshow of photos from their visits to 30 families in 24 countries, where they documented a week's worth of their subject's food purchases.
· Comedy Death Ray brings Demtri "As Seen on The Daily Show" Martin, Greg "That SATC Catchphrase You Know About Already" Behrendt, and Jeff "Still Looking for Someone To Eat Cheese With" Garlin to the UCB Theatre.

With its relaxing ocean vistas and its proximity to the area with highest density of well-monied, famous fuck-ups addicts on the planet, it's unsurprising that Malibu has become such a popular location for absurdly expensive drug rehabilitation centers, whose recent concentration in the welcoming beachside community provides a staggering variety of convenient drying-out options for out-of-control celebrities who've just driven their luxury automobiles into the Pacific following all-night benders. Today's LAT has taken a closer look at Malibu's impressive line-up of detox resorts, but discovers that some patients unhappy with their results claim that the some of the celebrity-studded rehab centers have unfair no-refund and pro-starfucking policies:

Nick Nolte, the legendarily grizzled actor who shits bigger than us all and washes down his daily bucketful of vitamins with a cup of broken glass, has just sired a love child at 66 years young. [Reuters]

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 West Wing alumni night at The Grove, when sanctimonious trolley rides are free!

"Gossip Girl" has been picked up for a full season! Praise be! I can't remember any more if I love to hate it or hate to love it or what! [TV Week, LAT]

Even though Showtime's Weeds doesn't lend itself to fun gimmicks like fountains bubbling with the blood of the freshly slaughtered, the series is doing what it can to lure in new subscribers with promotional stunts of its own, like casting a recently decoupled Olsen Twin as a fledgling drug-dealer who believes Jesus has sent her forth to get the world really, really high.

Viewers of Fox's drama Prison Break got an unpleasant gift last night (giant spoiler ahead): The fate of Sara, played by actress Sarah Wayne Callies, was revealed when a bloody box was opened, containing her decapitated head inside. Lest Break fans assume the character's gruesome demise was the product of writers' room revenge after a difficult and failed negotiation (Callies had a baby recently and reportedly declined producers initial offer of 13 episodes), EP Matt Olmstead explained the creative process that left them with no option but to serve up their star's head in a box:

· Jake Gyllenhaal joins director Doug Liman on DreamWorks' Untitled Moon Project, in which Gyllenhaal is dispatched to populate a lunar colony with a super-race of dreamy-eyed pioneers. [Variety]
· NBC Universal is acquiring Oxygen Media, including the Oprahcentric Oxygen network, for $925 million, a piddling sum Winfrey will merely toss on the cash pile occupying much of her 25-acre Santa Barbara backyard. [THR]
· Pablo Escobar is the new Harvey Milk: Oliver Stone is producing his own biopic on the life of Colombia's most lovable drug-cartel kingpin, a project that will try to race into production ahead of the recently announced, competing Killing Pablo feature. [Variety]
· Lisa Kudrow joins the cast of "let's just squeeze in one more job before the strike" flick Hotel for Dogs, joining fellow speedy-paycheck-chasers Don Cheadle and Emma Roberts. [THR]
· Apatow Comedy College alumni Michael Cera and Kat Dennings sign on to star in a film adaptation of the novel Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. [Variety]

According to an e-mail blast entitled BRITNEY SPEARS DOES NOT WANT TO BE A BARTENDER! we just received from Extra, a rep from her alleged prospective employer would like to respond to TMZ's story from yesterday: "While Britney Spears was a guest of Viceroy Santa Monica, I can confirm that she did not submit a job application to the hotel." Of course, this could merely indicate the Spears never got around to following the application she supposedly requested, yet another indication of her inability to follow through on anything related to her becoming a more productive member of society. The judge will not be pleased. [Extra]

Taking her first baby steps back into the cokepant-strewn wilderness, Cirque Lodge alumnus Lindsay Lohan chose celebrity-supportive tabloid OK! magazine for her exclusive post-rehab interview. Between loving pecks from newly materialized cool-dad Michael Lohan (see photo), Lindsay described her journey from blow-fueled party monster to clear-minded and productive starlet of society:

Providing a light-hearted respite from recent unpleasant revelations about Charlie Sheen's propensity to send strongly worded, less-than-affirming e-mails (you remember, the ones about the cancer and the "sad, jobless pigs" ) to his ex-wife, Rush & Molloy recounts how a Two and a Half Men joke involving an inflatable doll reminds them of a funny little story about Sheen's real-life misadventures with the finest mail-order cheerleader mannequin money can buy:

While we realize that the doomsday pronouncements now being issued with increasing frequency by both the Writers Guild and the Alliance of Motion Picture & Television Producers following bargaining sessions in which the only thing being discussed seriously is which side is more committed to destroying Hollywood contain their fair share of public posturing, that knowledge doesn't stop our sphincters from reflexively tightening following each bellicose statement lamenting the inevitability of a disastrous work-stoppage.

As compellingly pointed out by Inside Edition last night, the streets of her beloved Los Angeles have become increasingly perilous for embattled, part-time mother Britney Spears, as the Starbucks runs and sushi lunches she once scheduled with the major paparazzi agencies without incident have now devolved into full-blown riots where upset citizens launch espresso-enriched Molotov cocktails at the pop star and her unwelcome shutterbug entourage.

· Earlier today, Tyra invited a focus group on the show to watch some porn, an exercise that had predictably explosive results. Perhaps things would have been more cordial had she warmed them up with an episode of Tell Me You Love Me.
· We always thought the Giant Earth Anus would be discovered in an alley behind a Sunset Blvd. club, but we suppose we were mistaken.
· Sean Astin calls the prospect of a long-awaited Goonies sequel an "absolute certainty," reviving hope that co-star Corey Feldman might once again draw a non-reality-TV-related paycheck in Hollywood.
· Unfortunately for Tom Colicchio (and fortunately for Gordon Ramsay), Michelin stars are not awarded according to the quality of one's cooking-competition show.

Amazon's recommendation engine suggests shoppers looking for Rita Cosby's shocking Anna Nicole tell-all Blonde Ambition also check out bestselling O.J. Simpson pseudo-confessional If I Did It, the rationale presumably being that while reading up on two mysterious Hollywood deaths is nice, four is even nicer.