Defamer is committed to bringing together its shoe-fetishizing readers with those who can provide them with the discarded footwear of the well-shod celebrities they so desperately covet, and so we pass along this anonymous Craigslist post seeking a recent Golden Globes also-ran's previously worn Cavallis:
It is with great sadness that we note the end of one of the great on-screen/offscreen Hollywood love affairs of our time, that between aging, 1980s teenage-panty-moisturizer John Cusack and longtime partner Jeremy Piven. According to an upcoming interview in Disgruntled Former Sidekick Quarterly Best Life magazine, Piven apparently believes that his Entourage Emmy win and recent attachment to the Untitled Man vs. Nature Project has caused the tumor of professional jealousy on his lifelong friend's heart to finally metastasize. Remarks Piven on the pair's eroding relationship:
PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are now posted several times a week—so send them in before attending to other basic human needs. Submit yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let everyone know about the time you saw Andy Dick fight a losing battle with the call of nature in the Beverly Center 8th floor men's room.
It seems Christmas parties have finally gone the way of the Bar and Bat Mitzvah, as what were once modest eggnog-and-fruitcake-imbibing gatherings are now over-the-top extravaganzas, desperate to one-up each other with hunky Santa waiters, chestnut-roasting stations, hot-toddy-spewing volcanos, and, for that crowning, seasonal touch, your very own celebrity showing up to mingle with your guests. ABCNews.com explores the increasingly common trend, which will set you back as little as $5,000 for your Potsies or your Klingers, anywhere up to the neighborhood of a cool $100,000 for your marquee names. (That's what they report Drew Carey will be paid to entertain a Houston energy company next week, proving that not even the lessons of Enron can kill that industry's love of a profit-hemmoraghing good time.) But if it's an even bigger star you want, perhaps from a hit TV series still on the air, fret not—even Emmy winners have a price:
In Part Two of today's series, Howard Stern Gets Celebrities To Openly Shit-Talk Other Celebrities, Page Six is reporting that Jack Black recently told Stern about a six-year grudge held against him by Jeremy Piven, claiming the bitch-hugging bachelor is still sore over having lost the part of the record store clerk in High Fidelity to the paunchy screen comic:
PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, which we try to post several times per week—so be sure to send them in as often as possible. Submit yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let the everyone know about the time you spotted Dustin "Dirty Sanchez" Diamond putting Prius-riding pussies to shame by lugging his bicycle onto the LA Metro.
PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are now posted several times a week—so start sending them in more often. Address yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let the world hear all about the time you saw Lando Calrissian light up the produce section with his 100-watt smile.
TMZ.com's tireless dedication to the video documentation of the comings and goings of various celebrities from our city's many fine drinking establishments has once again yielded one of those priceless, only-in-front-of-an-exclusive-hotspot moments, as the webarazzi's all-seeing cameras captured a brief mix-up in which Jeremy Piven accidentally climbed inside another patron's vehicle at Hyde's valet stand. We know! In the clip, Piven quickly realizes that he's seated in the wrong Range Rover (Hollywood tip: merely telling a parking attendant "to bring around the Range Rover" is a tragically vague instruction likely to result in such an embarassing snafu), barely avoids a half-hearted hug-it-out from the car's rightful, too-handsy owner, and is eventually placed in his own SUV, which even the most addled valet should have been able to identify in the first place by its telltale, hood-mounted Emmy statuette and vanity PIVWEELZ plates. We're sure the proprieters of Hyde will take the necessary steps to ensure that such a mortifying error never happens again.
PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers, and are now posted several times a week—so start sending them in more often! Send yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let everyone know about the time you spotted Jessica Simpson swooping back into town after a reinvigorating bass-fishing expedition.
A Defamer reader looking for some stripped down, hard-rock entertainment at the Malibu Inn Saturday night instead got the inept musical stylings of a celebrity clusterfuck: a band composed entirely of rock star progeny conceived during a series of Jack n' Coke-enhanced blackouts in the 80s was usurped by a blitzed, mic-hogging Kid Rock and substitute drummer Jeremy Piven, who made up for his inability to keep time by proudly shouting to the crowd the classic punk credo of all Emmy-winning, rock star-wannabes: "I won metal!"
While we merely conjectured that Jeremy Piven might have punctuated his Emmy win by coaxing his new trophy girlfriend into a celebratory three-way with red-carpet tormentors Billy Bush and Ryan Seacrest, how the actor actually spent his post-Emmy hours is coming into clearer focus in today's tabloids. And thanks to the miracle of gossip column product placement, we know that Piven's victory binge was sponsored by the fine folks at M et:
Those who felt that the three hours of the Emmys ceremony itself wasn't a self-mortification ritual sufficiently harrowing to atone for a year of their TV-watching sins may have tuned in to the supplemental torture of NBC's pre-show coverage, where they could have witnessed obviously tense Emmy nominee (and eventual winner) Jeremy Piven have the following testy exchange with red carpet inquisitor Billy Bush:
· We think we know what Jeremy Piven wished for when he blew out the candle on his birthday cake this weekend: For Lindsay Lohan to put on a flesh-colored bikini and do her best recreation of a really creepy kiddie porn photo shoot.
· This Craiglist ad seeking a "palm leaf oscillator" for a "high powered industry executive" may be a joke, but we suspect a real position involving the manual temperature control of a spoiled studio type will be created by morning.
Maybe it's too early in the morning to consider any photograph whose subject is a shirtless Jeremy Piven, but there's something strangely poignant, something that bears our attention, about this frozen moment from his birthday party in Malibu this weekend. It's impossible to know what Piven was thinking as he stared somberly at the cake placed before him, but we imagine that in the instant before reaching some kind of breakthrough about the meaning of what he's accomplished in his 41 years, he suddenly drew himself back from the precipice of epiphany, plunged both hands deep into its chocolatey recesses, and smearing its delicious icing across his face like warpaint, stalked off to do a dozen tequila shots out of the navel of the semi-naked Lindsay Lohan lingering nearby. This was a party, after all, and not the time for quiet introspection.
Page Six has more details regarding the Jeremy Piven-Stephen Dorff Bathroom Line Smackdown at New York's Bungalow 8 club, this time from a "somewhat sober spy" who recollects a different scenario, in which the Piv came off less like his hot-headed, loose-cannon Ari Gold persona, and more like the cool-as-a-cucumber, "I can make your or break you" Ari, as touted in the series' online advertising campaign (featuring cutting-edge, Ari-bot technology!):
Page Six has exclusively obtained script pages from the upcoming Entourage premiere, and today has published an outline of a pivotal scene from the episode. In this hilarious, slice-of-Hollywood-life outtake, Jeremy Piven's beloved, fast-talking agent character Ari angrily confronts onetime working actor Stephen Dorff for committing the unpardonable sin of cutting the bathroom line in a club without first offering to share his eight ball with everyone patiently waiting their turn for a stall trip. Cut to: INT. NIGHTCLUB HALLWAY—NIGHT
• Battle of the randoms: Stephen Dorff and Jeremy Piven get in sissy-slapping contest at Bungalow 8, mostly because Dorff cut in front of Piven in the bathroom line. Dorff's defense: "At least I am a movie star - you're only on TV! Cable TV!" True, but at least he's not Stephen Dorff. [Page Six]
• Meanwhile, Karolina Kurkova tolerates Piven's awkward flirting. [R&M]
• K-Fed gets jealous about Britney's manny taking over the domestic duties, but not jealous enough to put down the pipe for two seconds and change a diaper. [Scoop]
• Billy Bragg thinks Rupert Murdoch is trying to steal your MySpace content. Hungover hipsters suddenly rethink posting crappy music from unsigned bands. [Lowdown]
• Poor Philly endures the return of a 9-foot-tall statue of Sylvester Stallone. [Fox411]
• Newly sober Full House legend Jodie Sweetin has signed with Fuse to host their upcoming competition, Pants-Off Dance-Off. She'd probably want to keep the meth around for that one. [Page Six]
PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers. Send yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let everyone know about the time you saw Al Pacino and family skipping merrily along The Grove's trolley tracks.
Hollywood PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are submitted by our readers. Send yours to tips[AT]defamer.com (please put "sighting" or "PrivacyWatch" in the subject line) and let everyone know about the time you saw Bruce Willis accidentally tumble into a wormhole and pop out in 1985.
