The latest issue of Hollywood Momentum, the Self magazine of those intimately familiar with their bosses' dry-cleaning services, has landed on our e-doorstep. Imagine our delight when we discovered this nugget in this week's "Spotlight On" feature:

Not remembering that Jennifer Aniston's teenage love letters won't be up for sale until Friday, we got a little impatient and popped on over to eBay to look for them. Frankly, with so much money potentially at stake, we're surprised to find that only three go-getters are trying to capitalize so far. How hard it is to scribble a credible expression of one's ardor on a scrap on Charmin for a shot at an auction windfall? And we really admire the honesty of the guy who not only admits that his letters are fake, but went through the trouble of inserting himself into some pictures with Aniston anyway. He deserves more than the current high bid of $12.07 just for his note asking Jen to "Please leave the toilet seat up when you're done!"

Not to kick a man while he's in the throes of an existential dilemma induced by the first failure of an otherwise brilliant career, but a reader spotted Michael Bay in Westwood the other night, and what begins as a brief critique of the director's cinematic aesthetic ends with an offhanded, yet scathing, indictment of his style. Thus another installment of the long-dormant Fauxteur Fashion Minute is born:

Quicker than you can ask, "Whatever happened to that woman who was in that movie where Tom Hanks dances on the giant piano?", a reader checks in with a tidbit from last night's premiere party for the new Showtime series Weeds:

The NY Post reports (exclusively, they might add, in bold and all-caps) that DreamWorks' live-action studio had a little too much to drink, picked up a telephone, and asked NBC Universal if it could come over "just to talk." NBC-Uni knew that if it didn't tell DreamWorks, "OK, you can stop by, but NOTHING is going to happen, not even if you beg and threaten to cry all night until we agree to acquire you," the studio would keep calling all until it finally gave in. The next morning, things were a little awkward—couldn't DreamWorks have asked first before borrowing the tooth brush?—but everyone insists that things aren't serious, they're just talking, that's all. And would anyone be that surprised if DreamWorks got sloshed and started calling everyone in its address book, just so it could feel pretty again? It's got some self-esteem issues since The Island flopped.

When a pack of about 40 stray dogs threatened to interfere with Disney's construction of its Hong Kong theme park, the company asked the local government for a little help:

· As expected, Will Ferrell follows agent Jason Heyman to CAA, while UTA tears at its Armani suit and laments the loss of its golden goose and seven-figure commission checks. [Variety]
· Tom Welling's Smallville stuntman is badly hurt during a stunt while filming in Vancouver. Sorry, this one's not funny. [THR]
· Even though most moviegoers would rather poke out both eyes with the straw from their $5 Cokes rather than sit through pre-show commercials, studios continue to provide the ads to exhibitors. Once movie theaters finally fade into extinction, we're going to smugly point to the fifteen minutes of Chevy ads as the reason for their demise. [Variety]
· This year, Oscar voters will get an extra week to consider their cruel snubbing of Paul Giamatti. [THR]
· TV Guide's publisher is embiggening the magazine to People-style dimensions, and deemphasizing its listings in favor of more editorial content. The changes are aimed at making the magazine slightly more difficult to ignore while browsing through the tabloids in the checkout aisle. [Variety]

It's been over a week since Jude Law's public apology for his naughty nanny-boffing activities brought worldwide shame to fiancée Sienna Miller, and the ensuing days have been filled with speculation about whether or not their engagement is officially on or off. Now the gossip rags have shifted into the next phase of the celebrity infidelity script, trying to figure out on whom Miller will use her free pass. Will she lash out at Law by sexually recycling male model ex-boyfriend David Neville? Or has Miller retaliated by dabbling in the borderline lesbianism represented by a fling with the girlish Orlando Bloom? So many questions, but only one answer will offer the kind of satisfying payback the public craves: a three-way with the horny nanny and Law's ex-wife, Sadie Frost. On a pool table.

At yesterday's Television Critics Association press event, ABC honcho Steven McPherson kept his head down, refusing to publicly wallow in the recent success that hit dramas Lost and Desperate Housewives have brought to his network.

Of course, this study was conducted before new and exciting opportunities in the pirate-acting field were announced. Between the two Pirates of the Caribbean sequels, this underrepresentation should all but disappear.

· This news is a little stale, but we needed to dip into the Be Careful What You Joke About File: Former professional naked person and Dancing With the Stars champ Kelly Monaco might get a shot on Desperate Housewives. Um, we were just kidding!
· Vince Vaughn: perplexed by gossip. He seems to understand other aspects of being rich and famous, though.
· We don't want to give this one away, but it involves William H. Macy's naked body, a low-budget movie, a pair of handcuffs, and a misplaced set of keys.
· And speaking of professional naked people (maybe this one's just a semipro), Wedding Crashers one-line-wonder Diora Baird's goodies are all over the internets.

· There is no theme for tonight's brief music round-up: Silversun Pickups (for free) at Sea Level Records; The (International) Noise Conspiracy (parentheses theirs) at the Echo, Brendan Benson and Robbers on High Street at the El Rey, Goldspot at the Troubadour; Motley (Fucking) Crüe (parentheses ours) at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater. If any of you turn out for the Crüe, please let us know how many chins Vince Neil has. We've got an office pool going.
· The (controversial) Oliver Stone has a Hammer Conversation with The Nation editor David Corn. We imagine Stone will discuss his 9/11 movie, but we're not sure if his de-gaying of Alexander for the DVD will come up unless someone gets sassy in a Q & A.
· The Elliott Smith Memorial Fund for Free Arts for Abused Children is holding a staged screenplay reading for charity at the Pan Andreas Theatre on Melrose. E-mail babzannesbakery@hotmail.com for reservations.

A Defamer operative, freshly imported to Hollywood and still excited by the celeb-stalking possibilities afforded by a night at the Playboy Mansion, learns the hard way that some nights at Hef's place are more star-studded than others. Her report of an evening with Grotto-monkeys like Robin Leach and TV chef Rocco DiSpirito (not even Hef himself made an appearance) follows:

Holy shit!

Look, when you've got $600 million of Passion of the Christ fuck-you money, you can make a black-and-white documentary about nymphomaniac donkeys overdubbed in Klingon if you feel like it. If anything, Mel Gibson's choice to go Mayan feels a little bit safe.

Did Owen "The Butterscotch Stallion" Wilson provide the secret sauce that helped Wes Anderson's movies slide down the hipster moviegoer's throat a little more easily? Slate posits that Wilson's writing contributions to Anderson's films, which ended with The Royal Tenenbaums because The Stallion is now a huge star with little time left for screenwriting, might have tempered the director's more pointy-headed cinematic tendencies with a healthy dose of the "middlebrow":

We just knew it was a matter of time before a Lindsay Lohan sex tape surfaced, but we have to admit to being a little surprised that she didn't team up with someone a little beefier. Never underestimate the power of celebrity narcissism.

· German movie theater chains protest the Shrinking Home Video window by boycotting Herbie: Fully Loaded, which is scheduled to appear on DVD an unacceptable four months after its theatrical debut. We can't approve of the Germans holding Lindsay Lohan hostage in their business drama. [Variety]
· We're not going to let ourselves get excited about this (Ed. note—Pleasepleaseplease let it be awesome], but there is now a Voltron movie in development. The nerd is us is "forming the sword" in our pants, but we're still ready to be withered by disappointment. [THR]
· Now that Daniel Battsek has been installed as president at the new-look Miramax, they're ready to get back into the acquisitions game. Sadly, we fear that the hobbled studio may never fully regain its ability to wildly overpay for festival movies. [Variety]
· After months of languishing in the limbo of untitledness, Steven Spielberg's upcoming movie about the 1972 Munich Olympics finally has a name: Munich. Sometimes inspiration is just waiting for you to give up and go with the obvious. (Trust us, we know.) [THR]
· NBC flinches first in game of chicken with Fox's celebrity American Idol, shelves its I'm a Celebrity But I Wanna Be A Pop Star. Even though he's not directly involved, we expect CBS's Les Moonves to release a statement calling NBC's Jeff Zucker a "pussy." [Variety]

We know that it's probably impossible to attend a reception without being relentlessly scammed upon with lines borrowed from Wedding Crashers, but do people really need to be told not to use fake medals in their quest for strings-free wedding sex? Apparently, they do:

Confronted with a world that suddenly lacks meaning, a world in which A Michael Bay Film meets with anything less than resounding success, the celebrated fauxteur scrambles for reasons why The Island bombed so resoundingly this weekend: