If the name Coley Laffoon means nothing to you, that's probably because you've not been breathlessly following the developments in the ongoing kook parade that is Anne Heche's life. Laffoon was the cameraman that turned Heche off lesbian comic dance-Nazis and brought her back into the hetero fold. Five years and one child later, Laffoon is now filing for divorce, and dragging with him all of Heche's dark, tinfoil-hat-wearing secrets as they battle over custody of their five-year-old son, Homer:

One would think that the day that a humble former hairdresser [Ed.note—How many movies does a guy have to make before people stop mentioning he used to trim Streisand's bangs? This man made Vision Quest! Does that count for nothing?] is granted the career-validating recognition of a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame would be among the happiest of his life, but Superman Returns producer Jon Peters must have been at least a little disappointed in how his Tuesday induction turned out. Not only did he wake up to discover that his best Hollywood friends had forgotten to purchase full-page suck-up ads in the trades celebrating his cinematic legacy and thanking the show business gods for bringing him into their lives, he also had to deal with some marital nastiness, says Page Six, the leading chronicler of his Walk of Fame Day letdown:

As far as major milestones on the great playing board of the Celebrity Game of Life go, nothing quite matches the divorce in terms of pure, spectator deathsport value. Forbes, always at the ready with some variation of a list of famous people and their mindboggling fortunes, now presents the Most Expensive Celebrity Divorces. A drumroll, please, as we reveal the top ten:

As several of you tipped us to yesterday, the final settlement t's have been crossed and marital dissolution i's dotted in the Spears-Federline divorce negotiations, leaving Britney Spears and her onetime wifebeater-wearing wooer free to go their separate ways:

For feuding couples who think a good fight involves some loud shouting followed by three days of silent treatment, we offer up for your intermarital warfare inspiration the example of Scott Weiland and wife Mary, whose weekend-long, 300-worthy battle resulted in several damaged hotel rooms, and culminated in a bonfire fueled by ten thousand dollars' worth of designer rockstarwear:

Kenny Chesney is widely credited with starting the "overly-groomed country radio guy of indeterminate sexuality that no one has ever really heard of marrying A-list Hollywood actress" trend currently sweeping the industry. He recently told 60 Minutes (in an upcoming, very special, "We Have Officially Run Out of Interview Subjects" episode), that the "fraud" Renee Zellweger listed as the reason she requested an annulment after four months of marriage to him had nothing to do with any lack on his part of a healthy appetite for the ladies:

This should reassure precisely no one: The temporary joint custody agreed to by proud parents-in-Vegas-club-hopping-asbentia Britney Spears and Kevin Federline shortly after their divorce has been extended:

The dissolution of Pamela Anderson's marriage to Bob "Kid Rock" Richie after just four months may have been the celebrity break-up that launched a million, "Go get her, Borat!" wisecracks, but the internationally renowned joke recycler may have had more of a direct hand in the snuffing of their white trash love than any of us could have guessed. From Page Six:

We're not entirely sure what to make of a pair of photos that popped up on D-Listed today, supposedly depicting this year's Thanksgiving festivities at Shar Jackson's house, where ex-husband and round one babydaddy Kevin Federline allegedly showed up with a buxom, root-challenged blonde on his arm. Leaving room for the possibility that these pictures were from some Turkey Day past, and the mystery woman merely an au pair with a history of chronic back problems, we must admit that whoever she is, she seems impressively well integrated into the happy, abandoned family (save for one pouty, disaffected Eminem fan), and K-Fed has rarely been photographed looking quite so genuinely content as he does balancing an unidentified child, quite possibly of his own loins, on his shoulders, in a seasonal portrait that seems to embody the very spirit of his "Ladies look out...Fuck a wife, give me my kids, Bitch!" shower door Declaration of Pimp Independence.

Chickens' rights activist Pamela Anderson announced on her website today, in a brief message amounting to a haiku of shattered love, "Divorce: Yes, it's true. Unfortunately impossible." This was the very same internet diary where the fake-bemeloned Canadian first announced her intentions to marry the latest butt-rocker of her dreams, Kid Rock, which she giddily announced with a flurry of ellipses and clichés in a stream of consciousness entry back in July. Reports People.com:

Chad Lowe has finally broken his silence about his unceremonious dumping by Hilary Swank in favor of greener, more agenty pastures, an indignity she mitigated by announcing to Vanity Fair that an unspecified "substance abuse problem" played a significant role in the break-up. Says an Extra press release:

Watch as Federline explains his mad skills at luring ho's with nothing more than a few "culinary lessons" and a properly seasoned tomato soup. Listen as he describes the super power he most covets ("strength"), and what he would do were he granted said power ("fly"). Learn that K-Fed is actually "an interesting dude" who just hasn't figured out how to make "millions of dollars" off his own name. Clearly, the exhausted rodent spinning the tiny wheel in his brain had been working overtime that night, cooking up worst case scenario contingency plans should the unthinkable come to pass.

Kevin Federline took to the stage of Chicago's House of Blues last night as scheduled, just a day after being informed by text message that his studding and couch-warming services would no longer be required at the Spears Malibu compound. Playing to a packed house composed of a sprinkling of actual "fans" (of ironic pop culture appreciation in general), interspersed among hundreds more who accepted the last minute offer of free tickets in exchange for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of being able to point and laugh in person at the lone pimp on his day of curbside reckoning, Federline was quick to let the honeys in the crowd know that he was immediately available to be theirs for the taking:

In a pre-taped interview set to air on Ellen DeGeneres' show today (TMZ has the video), Hollywood's highest paid TV comedy star, Charlie Sheen, appears to have found it in his heart to mend fences with ex-wife Denise Richards, despite still harboring some traces of bitterness over that time she announced to the world that he's an abusive, jailbait internet porn junkie and online hook-up addict. Sheen even goes so far as to reluctantly approve the new guy in her life, Richie Sambora:

We know that the two days following the announcement of the end of Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe's marriage have been a dark, confusing time for you, during which you lost hours of much-needed sleep as you tried to understand how the complicated interpersonal dynamics inherent in any Hollywood union where one partner is far more successful than the other (see also: Swank, Hilary and Swank, Guy Who Married Hilary) might have slowly frayed the couple's love-bond. Us Weekly's story about the break-up releases you from your mental torment, as the proffered explanation is simplicity itself: Phillippe has allegedly "grown close to" (i.e., is schtupping raw) a co-star, a relationship-dissolving method recently embraced by leading men far more accomplished than himself. An alert reader has noticed that the actress's IMDb page is already starting to look like a photo album commemorating the blossoming of their professional collaboration to a personal one, lacking only images of the duo retreating to Phillippe's trailer for the downtime rendevzous that always begins with the words, "Tell me again about how you don't have an Oscar. That gets me so hot."

Hollywood's apple pie couple—button-nosed screen dumpling Reese Witherspoon and husband Ryan Phillippe, currently featured on the cover of Interview magazine in a portrait sure to stir up your every homopatriotic, tree-climbing-related emotion—have announced through their publicist that they have separated, for "cumulative" reasons. Were we the self-starting and/or technically gifted types, we would accompany this regrettable announcement with a slow-motion video montage of the couple's happiest public moments, set to the wistful strains of Witherspoon's own rendition of "Wildwood Flower." (Or, if there were licensing issues, Bird York's equally haunting and not entirely lyrically inappropriate Crash soundtrack contribution, "In The Deep.") We wonder who, if anyone, will be there to cheer on Phillippe should he be nominated for his Flags of Our Fathers work at this year's Golden Globes, as the sad reality sets in that any hopes of witnessing Witherspoon return a desperate, spine-snapping bear-hug of the sort she absorbed from her spouse at last year's ceremony have essentially turned to dust.

Our right-coasted, left-brained sibling Gawker share an intimidating algorithm they found in the NYT that attempts to predict the percentage of likelihood of celebrity marriage success. (It's in their subscription-only TimesSelect section, once again demonstrating how higher learning is really the exclusive realm of those who can afford it.) The Sundem/Tierney Unified Celebrity Theory then spits out some deeply discouraging math, putting Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's chances of making a marriage work at a mere 10%. Based on Pitt's recent comments, however, we doubt such formulation will ever apply, at least until a Sundem/Tierney Celebrity Philanthropic Civil Partnership Theory is devised. Even bleaker are Britney Spears and Kevin Federline's prospects—0% chance of lasting to their wood-and-silverware, fifth anniversary—though due to the equations exclusion of procreative data, we can't say that number is completely accurate. Surely success rates are higher when you figure in such matrimonial bond-strengthening data as the B/d* factor.

If you're anything like us, the recent announcement that actress Kate Hudson separated from physically undesirable rocker husband Chris Robinson plunged you into the blackest depths of celebrity break-up despair, in which you smashed all the mirrors in your home with your bare fists and used the jagged shards to carve appropriately melancholy Black Crowes lyrics into the fleshy, vein-laced underside of your forearm. This morning, Us Weekly rolls itself into a glossy cudgel and bludgeons you while you're still weak from the massive, sympathetic blood loss, claiming that Hudson's secret! affair! with You, Me, and Dupree co-star Owen "The Butterscotch Stallion" Wilson was the "main catalyst for the split." According to Us, Wilson's attorney has already offered a lawyerly evasion of, "[Anything] that suggests that the separation of Ms. Hudson was caused by Mr. Wilson...is absolutely false," which seems too preoccupied with causality to dispute that the two might be a couple. We're sure the day will bring more news once the publicists involved decide if it's better for Wilson's image to completely deny a relationship or portray him as the gallant Stallion who galloped into Hudson's home to save her from an unhappy marriage, then trotted off with his new off-screen love while the cuckolded Robinson was distracted with trying to teach their son how to convert his Fisher-Price Rock-a-Stack into a bong.

Star Jones may be on a crusade to sniff out the rat who dared suggested there may be some sizable cracks forming in her marriage to stallion-legged husband Al Reynolds, but it will take more than threats of legal action to throw the tenacious gossip hounds of Page Six off Reynolds' suspiciously floral scent. Watch how, through the use of some carefully selected facts and turns of phrase, a simple item about someone accidentally ringing the neighbor's door at 4 a.m. manages to trumpet "Al's a Gay!" without ever saying the actual words (lightly encoded gay innuendo in boldface):

After four empty, unsatisfying months cruising Hollywood's swinging hotspots that were occasionally punctuated by romantic, old-timey bicycle rides by the Malibu shore, superproducer Brian Grazer has taken out a reconciliation notice in Page Six to let the town know that he's officially off the market again: