A tipster informs us that Hoboken Beach Diet Man, the fake-bearded, beer-helmeted, spandex-clad local superhero who's recently taken to the streets of Los Angeles in his crusade to promote Truth, Justice, and the Self-Promoting Hollywood Way, reappeared in front of Endeavor's offices earlier this afternoon in hopes of finding someone to represent his screenplay. Perhaps after reading about Hoboken Man's inspiring "never give up" credo or watching his YouTube "infomercial," Endeavor superagent Ari Emanuel will have his heart sufficiently melted to order an underling to retrieve a copy of the screenplay from the lovably unselfconscious scribe dancing outside his headquarters. Or, failing that act of kindness, he could at least send a mailroom clerk to give the human eyesore a ride over to the CAA Death Star.

Before we've even had time to come up with a fun codename like The Aaron Eckhart Molests A 13-Year-Old Girl Project for Alan Ball's controversial Nothing is Private, the film has been jointly acquired by Warner Independent Pictures and Netflix's Red Envelope, a sale sure to infuriate at least one thoroughly scandalized Fox gossip columnist. [THR]

· Music round-up: Art Brut at Key Club; Brandi Carlile at House of Blues; Spoon does the second of three nights at the Henry Fonda.
· Jack "Oscar" Klugman signs Tony and Me, his book about his friendship with Odd Couple co-star Tony "Felix" Randall, at A Different Light Bookstore.
· LA Confidential/The Black Dahlia author James Ellroy turns up at the Central Library for "L.A.: Come on Vacation, Go Home on Probation," his discussion of "the underbelly of the city he has reclaimed."

• Court hears case of the wardrobe malfunction [USA Today]

As is their custom in the run-up to various awards ceremonies, Newsweek has once again assembled a panel of nominees to discuss issues important to the modern kudos-hopeful, allowing their guests a rare chance to gather together to discuss their craft and make the occasional comment about the absurdity of introducing the notion of competition into their collaborative art form. In their new Emmy Roundtable piece, they've hoarded Masi Oka of Heroes, Entourage's Jeremy Piven, Brothers & Sisters' Sally Field, and Ugly Betty's America Ferrera for the chat, and it didn't take long for Piven, last year's Best Supporting Actor winner for his portrayal of lovable, Gaysian-haranguing agent Ari Gold, to express his frustration over not having more input into creative decisions that might result in more screentime:

• Exclusive: Dannielynn at Her Party! [theinsideronline.com]

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 LeVar Burton's Roots-inspired vanity plates.

Nothing says, "You can be easily replaced if you keep rolling your eyes like that when I talk about my next orphan purchase" to your already-emasculated husband than giving him a Purple Penetrator on his 39th birthday. [Daily.co.uk]

She's just that good: Always-quotable feminine-cleanliness enthusiast Terence Howard compares working with Jodie Foster on The Brave One to marching with Martin Luther King. [Yahoo! News]

• Director, Social Marketing and Digital Public Relations - New Media Strategies, Washington, DC (Telecommute)

In these somber times, conventional wisdom states that the fashion for extravagant awards show gift bags has passed. Still, the impulse to pamper nominees lingers, living on in a circuit of illicit backroom gifting suites, where stars can indulge their most environmentally unfriendly swag urges to stack up on as many Louis Vuitton sable iPhone covers as their hands can carry. Even the stars's pets—spoiled in the past with everything from personal training sessions to therapy—are still trading in on the notoriety of their celebrated, poop-scooping owners:

· Because that weekend-house mortgage isn't going to pay itself, Don Cheadle signs on for the Emma Roberts vehicle Hotel for Dogs (plot more or less self-explanatory). [Variety]
· Hollywood Out of Ideas, Recycling Lightcycles Edition: Newly assigned Logan's Run director Joseph Kosinski is in "final negotiations to develop and direct" a new Tron movie from a top-secret idea by two Lost writers, a cutting-edge take rumored to involve Tron Guy's efforts to escape the YouTubes after being digitized into the viral video world by the evil Master Control Program. [THR]
· Fear of the looming labor apocalypse leads Roman Polanski to withdraw from his megabudgeted Pompeii project. [Variety]
· Cinea discontinues production of the magical, privacy-preventing DVD player that could play enchanted Oscar screeners issued by the MPAA's copyright-respecting wizards. [THR]
· Oscar-winner Jennifer Hudson's Dreamgirls catfighting experience should come in handy on the set of the Sex and the City movie, where she'll play Carrie Bradshaw's assistant. [Variety]

• LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE! [YouTube]

Faster than you can say "Dakota Fanning Rape Project," the Toronto Film Festival screenings of Alan Ball's Nothing is Private should produce a level of buzz-building, pre-acquisition outrage unseen since the first reports that universally beloved/feared child star Fanning's cinematic virtue would be stolen at the 2006 edition of Sundance. Outraged Fox 411 gossip columnist Roger Friedman previews his early candidate for Feel-Awful Movie of 2007, in which Aaron Eckhart, perhaps overcompensating for the guilt of cashing his No Reservations paycheck, returns to the darker In the Company of Men/Your Friends & Neighbors material of his early career:

Believe it or not, Andy Samberg accepting an award for a song about putting his engorged junk in a box wasn't the most controversial break from the tedium of this year's Creative Arts Emmys—a typically staid ceremony one commenter in attendance referred to as "a mind-numbing four and a half hour below-the-line awards show." That honor would go to Kathy Griffin's acceptance speech, and the Savior-sucking sentiments therein:

Flushed out of hiding by Sarah Silverman's unkind remarks about its attractiveness, Britney Spears' vagina put in a public post-VMAs appearance. Seriously, don't click through, you already know what you're going to see, and you're just going to feel filthy afterwards. [Egotastic]

In case you somehow missed the eerily prescient (OK, maybe they were just playing the odds) "Britney, We Love You" ads adorning virtually every bus stop and billboard in Los Angeles over the past month or so, TMZ TV, TMZ.com's reverse-engineered television product, debuted last night, ushering in an exciting new era in celebrity telejournalism in which the word "douche" can be used to describe their misbehaving subjects. (Somewhere, Billy Bush is silently mouthing the delicious insult, working up the nerve to slip it in to his next Access Hollywood voiceover.) While we were underwhelmed by the premiere episode's big "get," some security camera footage of Pulp Fiction gimp-keeper Peter Greene's inept license plate heist, we did quite enjoy the above footage of drunk chicks stumbling around outside of Les Deux, babbling incoherently in the general direction of a TMZ cameraman while occasionally flashing their goodies, as it saves us the ten dollars in parking fees we'd have to spend to experience the most satisfying part of a night out in Hollywood.

Hoping to solve the mystery of how Britney Spears, a seasoned performer with many memorable faux-lesbian and python-related VMAs performances to her credit, came to prance across that Las Vegas stage as listlessly a past-her-prime, breakfast-shift stripper who'd just been shot in a fishnetted haunch with an elephant-grade tranquilizer dart, Page Six today consults a spy who claims to have the behind-the-scenes information about the much-discussed debacle. Spears' rehearsal session, it seems, was hampered by lateness, the tragic overriding of a wardrobe professional's costume choice, and, unsurprisingly, the refusal to perform any choreography that might result in the spillage of her precious pre-show cocktail:

Sensing that Hollywood Blvd.'s legendary pop-culture-dissecting minds might have something to say about Britney Spears' disastrous VMA performance, Defamer videographer Molly McAleer grabbed her trusty camcorder and headed for the talking-head paradise that is the sidewalk outside of the Kodak Theatre, where a talkative cross-section of fans from around the world were more than happy to offer their reviews. For those who find the assessments of the Walk of Fame opinion-havers unfairly negative, we direct you to ABCNews.com's penetrating piece analyzing What Went Wrong, which found at least one anonymous truth-teller willing to defy the anti-Britney thought police: