Hollywood PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are sent in by our readers. Send yours to tips@defamer.com (putting “privacywatch” or “sighting” in the subject line helps make sure they don’t get lost in our inbox) and let the world know that when Robert Blake's not dodging murder convictions, he enjoys the occasional gelato.

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· Disney gets the domestic distribution rights to Mel Gibson's next directing project, the super-secret period action flick Apocalypto. Details of the plot are under tight wraps, but it's believed that it doesn't involve the Messiah getting his ass kicked for two hours. Gibson's really stepping out of his comfort zone on this one. [Variety]
· Half Pint chooses not to run for a third term as SAG president, opening the field to Chandler's Mom and The Guy Married To Marg Helgenberger. [THR]
· Some might say that Guy Pearce is too handsome to play Harry Houdini, but not the producers of Death-Defying Acts. Since the project is "based" on true events from the escape artist's life, no one should mind prettying up the dude a little bit. [Variety]
· Just in time for the premiere of Hustle & Flow, Paramount throws some first-look deal cash at director Craig Brewer and producing partner Stephanie Allain. We know the studio already paid a huge price for H&F, but shouldn't they wait to see the weekend grosses before giving them any more money? We're just sayin'. [THR]
· UPN head Dawn Ostroff would like to remind everyone that big sister CBS passed on the buzzed-about Everybody Hates Chris, so everyone should stop saying that the show belongs on the real network, OK? Someone from Viacom really needs to give her a hug and reassure her no one's going to steal her baby, unless it becomes a hit. [Variety]

We don't expect a Craigslist ad (or, for that matter, this blog) to be proofread meticulously, but if you're planning on taking the gig, you should know what you're getting into:

We all remember how Jack Nicholson's dedication to craft led him to lobby his The Departed director Martin Scorses to juice up the realism of his sex scenes with liberal amounts of dildos and blow. Now Radar reports that Jack was even more hands-on during shooting than previously suspected:

Despite having received a very public, strongly worded letter from Scary Hollywood Lawyer Bert Fields not too long ago, Page Six is stirring up some pretty entertaining shit with William Morris again. Who loves a feud? That's right: everyone.

We have no idea why someone's painted Ben Affleck's face on a child-size chair, or why such a moving objet d'art was being removed from Affleck's house. Perhaps the chair was delivered to his residence by his "number one fan," who lit himself on fire on the front lawn once he realized he and Affleck would never be together now that Jennifer Garner and the baby are in the picture, and the painting was too painful a reminder of the tragic intersection of crushing fame and unrequited love. Who knows? It's Friday morning and we don't need to have all the answers. In any case, it's a more flattering likeness than Affleck's Police Sparkling Gun Playset.

· Katie Holmes, it seems, has very unappealing feet. We pray that L. Ron Hubbard developed a technology to address hammer toes without pharmaceutical or surgical intervention, but we fear this is not the case.
· Hey, unicorns! (Back by "popular" demand.)
· Y-list actress/on-set stabbing victim Courtney Peldon pops head up on a red carpet, is immediately hammered down in classic Wac-A-Mole style by the Glorious Ladies of Fug.
· , Owen "The Butterscotch Stallion" Wilson's World Tour of Patrician Sports stops in NY for a little polo
· The AP gives its headlines writers the afternoon off. Couldn't we even get a token "Rock: Not Everybody Hates Chris"?

· From time to time, we like to suggest activities that might be better enjoyed while under the influence of drugs. Tonight's screening of Pink Floyd’s The Wall at the Aero is one of those times.
· You know what you need? A night with an all-gay-male Go Go's tribute band. And you're in luck! Helicopter Helicopter and The Gay Gays abuse The Good Hurt. Elsewhere, The Go! Team do the Troubadour; Beck and grad-core superstars The Decemberists play the Pacific Amphitheatre.
· While beach people trip face and listen to Floyd, eastsiders can class it up with some wine at Silver Lake Wine's Thursday Night Flights. If you must, you can bring along the iPod and listen to "Wish You Were Here."

Dear Differently Shaped/Abled/Pigmented/Limbed People of Los Angeles: New and exciting opportunities in the pirate-extra field await you at an open casting call next weekend for the sequels to Pirates of the Caribbean. Dear Asian People of Los Angeles: Yeah, you can come too, but be ready to play a hooker.

Your thoughts on horny spa patrons and lemonade-serving pop-stars are ready for inspection. Take Two Squishy Blind Vices on a second date and see if things click:

A little over a week ago, the world held its breath as beloved actor Brad Pitt checked himself into Cedars Sinai with mysterious flu-like symptoms. Most of us exhaled when Pitt was discharged a mere day later with a publicist-endorsed diagnosis of "viral meningitis," but reflexively distrustful of any words originating from a public relations professional, we mused that Pitt had "actually contracted some extremely rare social disease previously identified only in seventeenth century French kings, and has returned home to live out the rest of days wracked with madness." That diagnosis went unchallenged until today's AP report that Pitt appeared in public to collect a check for charity, seemingly free of any Sun King finery that might have confirmed our suspicions. Therefore, we are inclined to correct the record and recognize that our conclusion might not have been wholly accurate. We apologize for any sexual fantasies that may have resulted from picturing Pitt dressed as a promiscuous French monarch engaged in a syphilitic orgy comprised of buxom chambermaids and the finest court dandies.

At last Thursday's unveiling of Disneyland's "special" star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, outgoing CEO Michael Eisner and CEO-to-be Bob Iger commemorate the Magic Kingdom's 50th anniversary by kneeling down and simulating the company's secret, Mickey-blowing initiation ritual.

[Photo: Jeff Lange, Jim Hill Media]

According to the Illinois Daily Herald, one family is finding out that camera-friendly Hollywood set building techniques might not hold up to real-world use, and suing Fox because their Renovate My Family makeover didn't exactly make their home more handicapped-friendly for their recently paralyzed son:

· Assuming that Ron Howard's nurturing embrace on The Da Vinci Code doesn't ruin all other directors for Tom Hanks, the actor will star in Charlie Wilson's War, the story of the "rogue" Texas congressman, for Universal. [Variety]
· Christian Bale and Steve Zahn will star in director Werner Herzog's "action drama" Rescue Dawn. Actually, doesn't Zahn's presence immediately reclassify the project as a "failed buddy comedy"? [THR]
· A hidden sex scene earns Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas the video-game equivalent of the NC-17 rating, causing many retailers to discontinue selling it and many bored teens to use it to replace Maxim as their preferred masturbation material. [Variety]
· So You Think You Can Dance (think American Idol with dancing and even more effeminate, obviously closeted male contestants) has a strong debut, winning Wednesday night for Fox. [THR]
· "Rampant" availability of pirate DVDs at Comic-Con may lead the MPAA to commence a violent geek-purge at the convention. The streets of San Diego shall run green with spilled Vulcan blood! [Variety]

Wherein we invite our readers to fire their arrows at the unprotected ankles of the weekly blind items that humpy E! gossip god Ted Casablanca renders invulnerable by careful dipping in the Styx of Incomprehensibility. This week, a two-fer, as Ted uncorks on both a closeted actor and a kinky musician. Luxuriate in the scented bubbles of Two Squishy Blind Vices:

Page Six reports (why don't we get these juicy press releases?) that the Church of Scientology was a little worried about an expose in Glamour, that legendarily hard-hitting publisher of celebrity-religion journalism, dispatching two of its Media Ministers to run interference:

Under the pressure of relentless cross-examination by the Cameron Diaz Legal Team, pre-fame Diaz mammary photographer John Rutter crumbled like a three-week old bag of cookies on the floor of a stomping convention, admitting that the now-famous signature on the Booby Model Release Form Heard 'Round The World might have been less than authentic:

While pretty much every club in Hollywood worth a paparazzi's flashbulb is zigging towards the ultra-exclusive (and once those IMDb-checking stations are installed at their doors, it's only going to get worse) , the crazy nightlife iconoclasts behind the new Red Buddha Lounge are zagging towards—gasp! the horror! what about the children?!—inclusiveness:

· If Marilyn Manson couldn't kill our Rose McGowan fantasies, then the merely wrinkly Al Pacino is hardly a threat.
· By the time you reach the end of this LA Times trend piece, enough time has elapsed that being a hipster is cool again.
· Jude Law's nanny refused a three-way, presumably on the grounds that it "wasn't adulteryish enough."
· Japan's version of Manny "The Copyright Respecting Stuntman" Perry is hella creepy: "...major Japanese film distributors have cooperated to produce an animated short film that is being screened throughout the country showing a girl shedding tears that turn into skulls, as an announcer says, 'Films are stolen, and so are impressive moments. Precious things are being tainted.'"
· Massachusetts fishermen catch Jabberjaws!