A lustful, sloppy shout-out to this week's sponsors — without their backing, we'd be barefoot and pregnant. Interested in keeping us off the streets? Info here.

· The HerróthiCa art exhibit, which opens tonight at the Tropico de Nopal Gallery, showcases the work of Will Herrón III, the founding member of punk band Los Illegals. Punk art's not too egg-headed even for us, who engage in no activity more intellectually fulfilling than reading a Cap'n Crunch box. (Well, not the whole box.)
· Hey, they helped get you laid in high school, so it's time to return the favor: Attend the 26th Annual Planned Parenthood Food Fare at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium.
· Jason Falkner plays at one of Spaceland’s tenth anniversary shows (how many parties do these guys get?), while Sage Francis plays the Henry Fonda without the benefit of some larger celebration.

· The 1,121 naughty words that you can't get on the back your customized NFL jersey include "ass bagger," "asswhore," and "fuckknob." Luckily for my fellow LA residents, "cokehead" seems to have slipped through the censor's, ahem, cracks. Should be a big seller. [via Wonkette]
· "Danny Glover has a serious mission for his new movie production company: Louverture Films will develop and produce movies of historical relevance, social purpose, commercial value and artistic integrity." HA HA HA HA HA. Good one, Danny! Where are you planning on setting up this company, inside Mr. Rogers' magic trolley?
· The crazy HOPE kids, who successfully staged protests of shoddy entertainment products by Paris Hilton and Ashlee Simpson, brought their movement to the Oscars and some parties.
· James Denton of Desperate Housewives may not be fighting off rumors that he's a lesbian, but he did move to Glendale. If anyone finds out, his career is so fucking over.

· The William S. Paley Television Festival kicks off tonight with the cast of NYPD Blue in attendance, finally freed from the tyranny of the flickering idiot box. The featured montage of Dennis Franz's dimpled ass set to "Fire and Rain" is not to be missed.
· Have you already seen Hitch four times and need a change of pace? AFI at the Arclight presents Serpico, featuring the great Al Pacino before he succumbed to a terminal case of the "hoo-ahs."
· The seemingly Inuit-threatening band Eskimohunter begin a March Wednesday night residency at the King King, while Divebomb, a self-described "night for people who like music," takes over the Knitting Factory.

A reader catches Ron Eldard in an incredible display of dedication to his craft:

Hollywood PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are sent in by our readers. Send yours to tips@defamer.com and let the world know that Natalie Portman has no fear of seasonal precipitation.

· Beware, TiVo watched your Oscar-surfing habits. They know if you rewound fifteen times to see if you actually caught a glimpse of Hilary Swank's ass-crack creeping out her dress, or if you were engaged in more intellectual pursuits.
· Being your own lawyer: All the crazy, drifter/stalker types are doing it!
· The all Trim-Spa diet isn't the best idea we've ever heard. Someone may need to start mainlining Krispy Kremes to reverse the damage. [via witz.org]
· We offer a warm welcome home to sodomy-n-policy lovin' sister blogger Wonkette, who returns from her month-long, peyote-fueled vision quest to unleash another ass-fucking-fueled reign of terror on Washington.

· Village Voice senior art critic Jerry Saltz lectures about contemporary art and criticism at the Hammer Museum. It wouldn't kill you to ignore the Netflix queue for one night and get a little culture, you know.
· Movie critic/rock star Roger Ebert will sign his new book, The Great Movies II, at Vroman’s in Pasadena. The signing and discussion will be followed by a slide-show from Ebert's recent Bermuda vacation with onetime nemesis Vincent Gallo. OK, we made that last part up. Or did we?
· Concerts you could potentially attend tonight (subject to ticket availability and other factors): The Brian Jonestown Massacre plays Spaceland, The Revolution Smile makes music at the Knitting Factory, and Vietnam and the Comas will perform at Cinespace. A concert you may not attend under any circumstances: Aaron Carter with special guest Jordan Knight at the House of Blues.

· The Res screening returns to the Egyptian, with Jared "Napoleon Dynamite " Hess and Michel "Eternal Sunshine" Gondry sticking around for a post-screening Q & A. Party, DJs, drinks and other fun to follow, per usual.
· Franz Wisner reads from his memoir Honeymoon With My Brother (in which he responds to getting dumped just before his wedding by selling everything he owns and traveling the world for two years) at the Barnes and Noble in Santa Monica. Yes, someone bought the movie rights.
· Best show for your buck: Burning Brides and 400 Blows perform at Spaceland for free.

When our PrivacyWatchers employ more than one of their senses in their celebrity encounters, an Overheard is born, and the lil'est angel in Heaven gets a coupon for a free Botox injection:

Evil Gawker Media blog overlord Nick Denton has snagged real, live journalist type Brendan Koerner to guest-edit Gridskipper for a spell, a move that will certainly throw a harsh light on our own glaring shoddiness. Thanks a lot, Denton. The beatings weren't enough?

The March issue of Allure features a remarkable exposé: Gawker is responsible for your dimpled thighs and flabby arms. That's right — it's not your bi-weekly trips to Magnolia or your late night pizza habit that's doing you harm; it's our fault! In her piece Eating After Dark (soon to be reprinted in the New England Journal of Medicine), Ginny Graves points out the danger of late night eating and Gawker-browsing. While we thought we were providing distraction purely during office hours (if nothing else, we want to keep you from being productive), Graves' research on page 178 suggests otherwise:

Friday
· Crash the 3rd Annual Indie Producer Awards Show at the WGA Theatre in Beverly Hills, hosted by Dave Foley. Use this as a warm-up; you don't want to cramp when you try to crash the main event on Sunday.
· Literary darling Lorrie Moore reads tonight at the UCLA Hammer Museum. She's pretty famous with the New Yorker set, but if you haven't heard of her, maybe you'd be better off sitting this one out—you wouldn't want short fiction snobs to stone you to death for confusing her work with Jhumpa Lahiri's.
· Hot Hot Heat plays the Roxy, but we refuse to indulge in any temperature related puns.
Saturday
· Normally, the rooftop parking lots at studios are strictly for suicide attempts and the procuring of illegal drugs, but Peddler on the Roof at Sunset Gower Studios seems to be some sort of legitimate flea market.
· White Out (with Thurston Moore, the indie rock world's arbiter of all things pure) plays Spaceland; Duran Duran continues their unironic comeback at Staples Center.
· Watch the Independent Spirit Awards on Bravo and catch a glimpse of Hollywood's rising talent before they direct a Jerry Bruckheimer movie.
Sunday
· Oscar Night finally arrives. Watch Jamie Foxx reach a state of ecstasy so pure that his body explodes and covers the A-list audience at the the Kodak Theatre in a hail of delicious Skittles. We don't even want to consider what might happen if he doesn't win.
· Shameless self-promotion: Did we mention that we're liveblogging the Oscars? Oh, we did? See you then!

Let us pause ever so briefly from all things Oscar and Hilton to recognize this week's sponsors, without whom we'd be forced to wander around Hollywood Blvd., performing a flipbook reenactment of Fred Durst's sexual technique. If you'd like to advertise on Defamer and reach the world's sexiest blog-readers, see this page.

If hell truly does exist, it's probably located somewhere near Prince Street and the Soho Apple store. But anyone who's had to wait more than two hours for a "genius" to serve you at the "bar" probably knows that already:

Disappointed that our ACME mail-order Graydon Carter costume doesn't look anything like the catalog picture and will be woefully insufficient to crash the Vanity Fair party, and lacking the funds to buy even one of the five-star croutons at Elton John's charity viewing party, we've decided to crash out on the sofa to watch the Oscars with some pals who haven't quite conquered their drinking problems. In between booze refills and restorative handfuls of Ritalin, we're going to attempt to liveblog the telecast. Yup, all four-plus hours of it, come hell, high water, a hospital trip for alcohol poisoning, or an Apocalypse-inducing Don Cheadle win. So stop in and check out our inebriated ramblings about Hollywood's Biggest Night™ throughout the evening. Who knows, we may crumble under the pressure of this endurance test and you may witness the internet's first Oscar liveblogging suicide.

Special thanks to this week's advertisers, whose undying love gets us through the bad times. Interested in accessing the passion? Info here.

· Help Beck raise money so that the International Foundation for Human Rights and Tolerance can buy e-meters and acting lessons sacks of rice for tsunami orphans, as everyone's favorite pop-lockin' folk-rocker plays the Henry Fonda Theatre.
· The Aero Theatre hosts a free screening of Valmont, a “stingingly sharp and tragically poignant” (and Malkovich/Thurman-free) adaptation of Les Liaisons Dangereuses.
· A short listing of selected local concerts, separated by semicolons: Joanna Newsome at the Troubadour; Irving at Spaceland; Earlimart at Silverlake Lounge, where they're apparently having their mail forwarded now.

· A short listing of tonight's concerts (don't call it a round-up): Afrika 'Baby' Bambatta and the Blakkat Soundsystem at the Viper Room; Robbers on High Street at Spaceland (your chance to say you saw them in a room full of sweaty hipsters etc etc); if you missed 'em yesterday: Paul Westerberg at the Henry Fonda Theatre and Earlimart at the Silverlake Lounge, again for the first time.
· Legally Blonde co-writer Karen McCullah Lutz flies solo in discussing her novel The Bachelorette Party at Barnes and Noble at the Grove. She will likely at least tolerate all of your questions about Reese Witherspoon's adorable outfits.
· We are always in search of a somewhat classier way to get stinking drunk: The Social at the Arsenal has art, a DJ, and booze.

Hollywood PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are sent in by our readers. Send yours to tips@defamer.com and let the world know that someone who looks like Jack Nicholson might've been checking you out.