· At Coachella, blog savant Whatevs witnesses the long-awaited reunion of Vincent Gallo and the actress who supposedly blew him on screen. We regret to inform you that Gallo did not bovs all over Sevigny's tees, however. Schmears.
· Moving to LA to make it big? Not so fast, Brandi, unless you've got good tableside manner.
· Disneyland covers stuff in gold to celebrate its 50th anniversary. Amazingly, all of the gold used was harvested from the fillings of people who've died on rides and whose bodies were quietly hidden around the park.
· We really love it when that chick at Gawker taunts Matt Drudge. Fun fact: they're secretly lovers!
· There is supposedly some video of Kelsey Grammer falling on his ass (hilarious!) here, but we can't get it to work. Maybe you will have better luck.

Who, exactly, decided to schedule construction on Delancey last night? We're dying to know the name of the fuckwit at the Department of Whatever who's responsible for the drilling and jackhammering that continued well after 1 AM.

· Arianna Huffington swears up and down that the celebrities appearing on The Huffington Post are not going to use ghost writers. Come on, like Warren Beatty ever learned to read and write? Nice try, wily Arianna! Additionally, please note that "assistants" and "ghost writers" are entirely different things. [via LA Observed]
· Bob Saget is desperate for you to know that he is very, very filthy and edgy.
· Yet another reason to love the British tabloids: Colin Farrell tries to give the gift of penis to his 70-year-old co-star, but his advances are rebuffed.
· Back tits: the newest sensation sweeping the OC.
· Overpay for a "dream date" with Carmen Electra (does she magically reverse-age seven years if you win?), help cure prostate cancer.
· The Onion says it for us all.

· The documentary Punk: Attitude screens at the ArcLight, a cinematic study of the type of rebel music popularized by such renegades as Avril Levigne, Ashlee Simpson, and a variety of bands with numbers in their names. Sorry, we just collapsed under the weight of our own obnoxious sarcasm. Also punk (for real this time):
the premiere of Roddy Bogawa’s Joey Ramone tribute I Was Born, But . . . is at the Redcat, with Bogawa there in person for a discussion.
· These are all shows we'd be attending if not for the Dr. Phil/Pat O'Brien special airing tonight:
Brendon Benson at the Troubadour, Cake, Gomez and Robbers on High Street at Royce Hall; The Power Cords w/ Weapons of Mass Belief at Spaceland.
· Salon.com throws a party to celebrate their essay anthology, Because I Said So, at Dutton’s Beverly Hills. Watch out for those dot-commers, they're likely to burn money just for the cheap thrills. (This item was written in 1999.)

We're not big on birthdays (they're just another reminder of how little we've accomplished in the last year, another irrevocable step towards a lonely grave, etc etc), but we thought we should note that exactly one year ago today, Defamer was yanked into the world, kicking, screaming, and covered in the dirty placenta of Hollywood like yet another retardedly-named celebrity baby. For those keeping score at home, that's 3,131 blog posts about agents dancing, Les Moonves' inexorable march towards the enslavement of all sentient beings, and meditations on celebrity genitalia of all flavors. Good times, good times.

· Richard Gere: "I'm hard of hearing and I have a bad hip. We all have problems." True, and understandable enough...unless you're saying it to a fan in a wheelchair.
· Steven Colbert gets his own show on Comedy Central in the fall, thereby reducing the time he's available to be hilarious on The Daily Show. A bittersweet moment for us all.
· The Carolyn, The Ellen, The Portia: Feh offers these and other entries from the Encyclopedia of Lesbian Hairdos.
· It only took a few weeks, but it looks like the folks at Jimmy Kimmel will finally get around to picking on the Star Wars nerds across the street.

· OK, for real this time: Patton Oswalt will join Chris Hardwick, Greg Behrendt, and hosts Neil Campbell and Paul Rust for Comedy Death Ray at M Bar. Laughter-vomit virtually assured.
· Music-related activities for those who enjoy such things: David Garza at Largo ; Aimee Man at Amoeba; Bruce Springsteen at the Pantages; Damien Jurado at the Knitting Factory. (Defamer's Intern Y would like to note that it's hilarious to list Aimee Mann before The Boss. Indeed.)
· Delusions of a Mad Man, an exhibition of the work of artist Truman Marquez opens at the Infusion Gallery.
· And if you're not inclined to leave the house, completely unsubstantiated rumors are floating around that Paula Abdul is going to quit live on American Idol. Probably won't happen, but it's a way to justify another night of drooling in front of the tube, should "it's Tuesday" not be a sufficient excuse.

[Due to the flood of late entires to this accounting of Indio's temporary celebrity population this weekend, we're bumping this back to the top of the page.]

· Page Six points out that Tom Cruise had a thrillingly contentious interview about Scientology with the German mag Spiegel. Where do those Page Sixers find stuff like that, anyway? They must have a subscription to a LOT of German magazines.
· The best thing about partying with hookers and strippers in Vegas is that no matter what unspeakable things you do with them, no one will believe them if they go to the press!
· TVGasm liveblogged Rosie O'Donnell's touching turn as a woman with mismatched sneakers and a bus pass.
· "Ms. Hilton may not come across as the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she is a Mensa-caliber genius at being a celebrity." The NYT looks at Paris, the industry.
· Mira Sorvino's boy-husband has a Little League temper tantrum. How cute!

· The Knitting Factory is hosting another benefit show for paralyzed musician Dax Pierson with Busdrive, Daedelus, Damno Aaron, One AM Radio, and Subtle. Down on the Strip, the Shout Out Louds play the Viper Room for the regular rock and roll reasons.
· Stage 2005, a weekly showcase for Slamdance winners, presents a reading of the period drama Claude with real! live! actors! at the Open Fist Theatre Company. The obligatory Q&A will follow the performance. [sixth item]
· Get really, really high (like really high) for the "Art in the Dark" blacklight art show at La La Land Gallery. Did we mention to get high? Can't remember.

With Andy Dick allegedly getting a time-out for Coachella, the festival was going to need another larger-than-life personality to keep things around the Indio concert grounds at an acceptable level of "going fucking crazy." Luckily, one fucking-crazy-making man was up to the challenge, even if he was sober after a well-publicized drying-out stint. Says a reader, "Pat O'Brien was at Coachella, seemingly a day out of rehab. He came over and talked to me and my friends about how 'fucking pissed' he was that he missed the Stereophonics. He even posed for a pic with me."

A Defamer operative snuck down into a slightly more expensive section of Dodger Stadium at yesterday's game to snap this pic of the back of season ticket holder Jason Bateman's head. (We did the heavy lifting and labeled it for your PrivacyWatching pleasure.)

Hi. I'm Jesse Oxfeld. You might remember me from such media websites as Editor & Publisher Online, mediabistro.com, and (long ago and barely) Inside.com. For some inexplicable reason, the folks here thought it'd be a good idea to make me co-captain of the Good Ship Gawker for a week. (Ha. The last ship I captaineda 60-foot racing yacht, while on assignment for Gear magazineI promptly sailed into a jibe. Then the mag folded like two weeks later, before I could submit my piece. Good stuff.) Anyway, while I've never actually blogged beforewell, not reallyI figure I should be fine at it. I mean, I'm glib, I like working in my pajamas, and, most important, I drink a lot (frequently at The Magician). So I'm good to go. Right? JO

You can all exhale (or begin your ritual cutting) now, as I'm back from my weeklong journey into sunlight — a journey so intense, in fact, that I just might be tan enough to assume multiple new ethnic identities. When I wasn't using my free time to sleep or pee in the pool, I worked on my new hobby: peeling the dead skin from my shoulders and saving it all in a pile, which I'm slowly molding into a life-size replica of myself. Watch out, Tussaud!

OK, the announcements and the virginity talk were one thing, but the kissing in public? Now you're just waving this ridiculous charade in our faces like an impotent flasher's floppy junk. Excuse us while we figure out a way to press our naked eyeballs onto the burners on the electric stove.
· Looks like Fox is trying to disappear Life on a Stick during sweeps and let it fade away into cancellation. We hope they're ready for the incredible LOAS fan backlash that's sure to come.
· Escandalo Des Lesbianas heats up: "I grabbed Salma's ass just to keep things moving, because everyone was a little slow. And, of course, the energy changed when I did that." Sure, it's out of context, but this is the only way to adequately conjure the hot lesbian action we crave on a Friday afternoon.
· "Oh, no. I didn’t feel any respect. Zero respect." Goldenfiddle interviews Gulager!

It's time to return to life as a freelancer, trying to get work from the very people I ve been insulting all week. Many thanks to Nick Denton, Lockhart Steele, the interns, Team Party Crash, my agent, manager, and lawyers. The lovely Jessica Coen will be back on Monday with a new and (undoubtedly) improved guest editor. So I'm out! As the token black guy said in Swingers: This place is dead, anyway. —Noelle

We'd like to take a moment to thank this week's sponsors, who'd never take our sweetheart to Rome and parade her in front of the cameras for cheap publicity. If you'd like to advertise on Defamer and impress the people who desperately crave your products, see this page.

A Defamer operative submits this report of a new, airborne danger: the desperate, fading celebrity who might snap if not recognized by his captive audience.

They say 90% of life is just showing up, which is why we work at home. However, it's gotten a little out of hand. If we re cooped up in our apartments any longer we re going to end up eating ourselves to death like "Pizza the Hut" after locking himself in his limo in Spaceballs. And the emails, my god, the emails. But we've still got a few hours left, so send us all your article links and tips and soon we'll be on our way. Goooooooo Bayside!
—NH

· Is the website VoteForTheWorst.com responsible for the confounding, continuing success of Scott "The Big, Scary, Out of Tune Baby" Savol on American Idol? Who knows? We still like our pet theory: Most people who bother to vote on AI have incredibly shitty taste.
· Also, did you get a debilitating case of the retarded tingles when Paula Abdul nearly broke down when Constantine got sent home last night, just like we did? Someone really needs to get that woman some horse tranquilizers or she might not make it to the end.
· Sounds like a great idea, but we're probably going to end up skipping it.
· This Sploid shift memo is going to get someone on MSNBC fired, sued, killed, or disappeared, once Tom Cruise finds out about it.
· A dangerous combination of weight loss and lip-collagen injections has made Lindsay Lohan very, very paranoid.