Wherein we invite our readers to spend some quality time in the bamboo tiger cage of humpy E! banana republic gossip dictator Ted Casablanca, and in the interminable minutes between the force-feedings of fire ants, ponder the identity of his weekly blind item. This week's subject? We'll give you two guesses, and the first one about how much actresses love the narcotic effects of cocaine doesn't count. Cram into the closet with One Fake-Ass Blind Vice:

It's that magical time when spleens are vented, mysteries unraveled, and your blind item guesses revealed. Sit through another uncomfortable silence with One Girlie Blind Vice before moving on:

Wherein we invite our readers to stroll the lot and kick the tires of humpy E! gossip used car salesman Ted Casablanca's weekly blind item and guess the identity of its hopelessly obscured celebrity victim. This week, Ted stalks the Emmy red carpet in search of yet another 'mo in breeder's clothing. And guess what? He found one! Sit down in the sauna next to One Girlie Blind Vice:

From today's Page Six:

Please forgive us if you've already seen the shot of Ted Casablanca's zero-ass before, but we couldn't take the chance that some of you might not have had the opportunity to be traumatized by it yet. Your blind item guesses are in, but ride One Blabbermouth Blind Vice around the track one more time before moving on:

If the above response to this PrivacyWatch sighting (the very last one in that post) doesn't drive you a) clinically insane with sexual desire or b) to the bathroom sink to discover if Liquid-Plumr is an effective self-blinding agent, feel free to continue on with this week's blind item guessing game. We'll skip the usual preamble and get right down to bidness with One Blabbermouth Blind Vice:

Your blind item answers are in! But before moving on, take a minute to fall in love with One Cheap-Ass Blind Vice all over again:

Wherein we invite our readers to step into humpy E! emperor Ted Casablanca Coliseum of Gossip and join his weekly blind item in full gladiatorial combat. After a week in which Casablanca seemed to embark on his Labor Day holiday without leaving one of his patented, brain-smoothing celebrity riddles behind, he returns to form not with a rote "starlets doing blow" or "all straight actors love a little cock" item, but with a twisted tale of child-care cheapness. Take a romantic walk on the beach with One Cheap-Ass Blind Vice:

Can we be sincere for a moment? Good, because we really fucking love you guys. Honestly, you are the most loyal, tough little cookies out there, and — oh, God, now we're getting choked up — in times of need, you never let us down. If we had any worldly possessions, we totally swear we'd give them to you, just to show our appreciation of your very existence.

We always knew that one day it would come in handy to have a slutty sister obsessed with TV news. That day has arrived.

It's funny — usually, when we play the blind item guessing game, we're flooded with responses. Never less than 50 emails, we'd say. But yesterday, we posted two delightful teasers and, well, got nothing in return. That's right: We just give and give and give, but yesterday you were selfish. Or you were lazy. Or maybe you were distracted with "work" (as if there were such a thing this time of the year). Whatever your excuse, we didn't feel that we had the wisdom of the masses behind us and thus didn't run answers.

Closeted homolove, celebrity bastard seed — we'd like to think ourselves experts in these genres. Alas, Ben Widdicombe's Gatecrasher column has left us more stumped than your daddy's peg leg:

Firstly, in case you missed the UPDATE to the previous item, we know that they found Scout Taylor-Runaway, or whatever her name is. Thank you, God, for delivering her back to her parents some ten seconds after we remarked on her disappearance. We knew you were listening!

Wherein we invite our readers to cast their lovingly-tied flies into the placid blind item river stocked with naughty celebrity fish by humpy E! gossip bait shop proprietor Ted Casablanca. This week, another startling revelations: When club-going starlets disappear into the stall with two of their closest friends, it's not necessarily to enlist their help operating the flush handle. Enjoy the throat-drip of One Stalled Blind Vice:

We threw down the blind item gauntlet, and once again you have picked it up and slapped us in the face. (In a good way, of course.) Spend a little more time One (Re-) Netted Blind Vice:

Wherein we invite our readers to savor the bizarre neologisms, tortured extended metaphors, and moments of "Holy fucking shit, I think Shakespeare's bones just exploded!" of humpy E! gossipologist Ted Casablanca in the course of decoding his weekly blind item. Did we say tortured extended metaphors? Yeah, we've got that this week. Inhale One (Re-) Netted Blind Vice:

We were going to run a guessing game on the following blind item from yesterday's Page Six:

Your guesses are in! But first, recirculate (Two) Bad-Boy Blind Vices:

Wherein we invite our readers to smoke the "flavored" blind item tobacco from humpy E! gossip-swami Ted Casablanca's hookah and, in the ensuing period of visionary clarity, divine the identity of this week's naughty celebrity. Since it's been about ten minutes since Casablanca's made a trip to Toothy Tile territory, we were long overdue for another Ted bi-boy travelogue. Inhale (Two) Bad-Boy Blind Vices:

We are so, so sorry to have kept you waiting an entire, interminable weekend for the results of last week s blind item guessing game — alas, our server crapped its pants yet again, leaving us with no means of relaying this important communication in a timely matter. Our Hungarian tech serfs will be properly beaten for this egregious misstep.