While some of us stayed far away from the heat and crowds of the Coachella festival, our Madonna, Ladytron and Daft Punk-loving (read: gay sex-having) contingent did manage to brave the crush of humanity for the communal experience of $7 draft beers, endless Porta-Potty lines, and the privilege of having the future ex-Mrs. Richie ask us "motherfuckers" how her "ass looked." ("Good," we responded, but we don't think she could hear us over the other 50,000 people chiming in with their own thoughts on the matter.) In any case, things could have been much worse, as we realized after reading this report sent in by a Defamer operative: A traumatic festival run-in with Andy Dick, who was still sporting fresh war wounds from his latest intoxicant-fueled tavern rumble, and was apparently looking to start another:

Some men—lesser men, weaker men, men with steady day jobs—are content to share their feelings about significant relationships in their lives in the pages of national publications like the NY Times or Time. But other men must find different means of expression to convey the intensity of their emotions. Andy Dick is one of these men. According to TMZ.com, the inhibition-free actor transformed his entire being into kinetic poetry during a bar fight with the producer of his new movie, with each intoxicated push and crapulent shove a more perfect declaration of his amazing fervor for alcohol-induced brawls. Words, we've always found, are for pussies.

A reader dropped us this photo and brief report on Andy Dick's swag-collecting trip to the Chateau yesterday, illustrating what Hollywood's beloved D-listers are up to while we're chained to our desks:

Things have been eerily quiet on the Andy Dick front as of late (is he finally feeling his age since turning 40?), but Salon reports that Dick seems to be in classic, head-humping form down in Austin at the South by Southwest film festival, where he's showcasing his latest masterwork:

We can't believe that we nearly let the entire day slip past before noting that Defamer's Patron Saint of Obvious Blind Item Guesses, legendary bicoastal antics-haver Andy Dick, turned 40 today. To celebrate the impressive accomplishment of surviving four decades of a lifestyle that could easily kill two coked-up 20-year-olds (or, for that matter, four 10-year-olds with drinking problems) , we share this reader-supplied anecdote that illustrates exactly why Dick is a local hero:

Andy Dick is a pro's pro. After an extended hiatus from troublemaking, a lesser voraciously bisexual, C-list maniac might try to ease his way back into the tabloids, but Dick always brings his "A" game. From Page Six:

Even at the Comedy Central roast of Pamela Anderson, an event ostensibly dedicated to jokes about the inversely proportional relationship between the size of one's fake tits and her talent and intelligence, the mocking of Tom Cruise figured prominently. Says The Scoop:

The Official Defamer Party Phone-Cam Photographer snapped this blurry pic of omnisexual menace Andy Dick and Jason "In Matters Of Instant Ignominy, I Recommend Marrying Britney Spears For 55 Hours Over Canoodling With A She-Male" at an event at the Highlands club for something (quite appropriately) called Lovesac. Moments after the pic was snapped, a quick-thinking cocktail waiter sacrificed his body by throwing himself between the actor and the Spears fame-oddity, knowing that if they ever touched, the ensuing C-lister-pseudocelebrity reaction would instantly claim the lives of the nearby Pimp My Ride crew.

Doesn't it seem like it's been far too long since Andy Dick, Hollywood's test case for post-sexuality-pigeonholing celebrity, had a good, old-fashioned, "I'm gonna get so fucked up that won't care who sees me hungrily tongue-bathing some dude while greedily cupping his package" club rampage? It has been too long, but Page Six breaks the streak, telling a Dick tale from NYC:

Today's Boldface Names column spends some quality time with our favorite homoerotic trainwreck, comedian Andy Dick, who seemingly has taken to standing upright and speaking in complete sentences:

Andy Dick is so desperate for help solidifying his online presence that he's resorted to the last refuge of the e-damned B-lister, the public Craiglist employment ad:

We were enjoying a perfectly nice story about Andy Dick rampaging through a swag suite at the upfronts when we were suddenly overtaken by the urge to push away from the computer and head to the Beverly Center. From JV NY Daily News gossip Lloyd Grove (who's really caught fire the last two days):

A reader over at the LA.comfidential blog overhears that Andy Dick, patron saint of drug-addled VIP room antics, might not be allowed to grace this weekend's big music orgy in the desert with his presence:

· Andy Dick whips it out onstage, is ejected from a Canadian club. The funny part: It was a planned part of the act. (The whipping-out, not the throwing-out.)
· At this rate, there will be no remaining Hollywood marriages by the middle of September. Who could've imagined that Britney and K-Fed would become the new standard of marital stability?
· Everyone has his or her own way of dealing with the incredibly slow Pope-selection process.
· This blog is trying to preserve the dying art of giving cute names to common sitcom writing dilemmas.
· Casting for The Long Left Turn: The Jeff Gordon Story just got a whole lot easier.
· When Middle-Management Attacks: Lockhart Steele, Gawker Media's very own version of David Brent, muddles his way through his first day as guest Gawker co-editor in an orgy of self-linking, inside Krucoff baseball, and Spiers-baiting.

We'd like to take a moment to note the triumphant return of Tabloid Lifetime Achievement Award recipient Andy Dick (and yes, we know it's premature as he still has a quite promising career ahead of him) to the gossip rags. According to Page Six, Dick went on a minor rampage during a drop-in at the Surreal Life house.

Last night, a spy heroically (i.e., drunkenly) tapped out this brief account of Kathy Griffin's Christmas party. This strange menagerie of Hollywood's lesser lights immediately reminds us why Griffin's comedy show is called "The D-List." (We'll blame the booze for the spy's alphabetical upgrade of the attendees.)

It's been way too long since we've had any Andy Dick news to report. As far as we can tell, he hasn't been spotted crawling around on all fours and begging for drugs in clubs on either coast (or he's been much more discreet about it). Perhaps Dick's only been partying with his muse, because he's recently finished a script aimed at giving big-screen birth to his alter-ego, Daphne Aguilera, Christina's trashier sister.

· "Famous" blogger Jonathan Van Gieson: "1:08pm: Caught a glimpse of myself, reflected in the window. Further updates as events warrant.
· Maggie Gyllenhaal - Sunday, April 13 - Bedford Ave and N. 5th - "Appears to be the tallest girl alive. Skinny, but not the scary skinny of a model. Wearing a long black sort of wrap, with trench coaty accents. Seems to have gotten the 'Williamsburg Special' haircut while in the nabe."
· "I went to The Mighty Wind and sat next to Tim Curry who is shorter than one would think and bearded. He laughed his ass off."
· San Francisco: "Andy Dick, with entourage, Haight Street, Saturday afternoon."