· Concert round-up: Ben Lee (ex-boyfriend of the Crudup-stealing Claire Danes, if you care about that sort of thing) will be celebrating the release of his new record, Awake Is the New Asleep, at the Viper Room; we're deeply depressed we won't make it to see Earlimart and Lou Barlow and Matt Costa at the Silverlake Lounge; the great Paul Westerberg plays the Henry Fonda Theatre.
· There's a free screening of The Motorcycle Diaries at the Brentwood Presbyterian Church, but you'll be wracked with guilt if you skip out on the post-movie theological discussion led by a dude who "found God on AC/DC’s Highway to Hell tour."
· Book Soup hosts Legs McNeil and Jennifer Osborne as they read and sign The Other Hollywood: The Uncensored Oral History of the Porn Industry Oral history. Clever!

It might seem obvious that a couple of Oscar nominations might sour a person on the artistic worth of an MTV-manufactured, panic-jigging pop star, but without our operatives overhearing a fascinating conversation like the one below, how would we know for sure?

Friday
· Robert MacNeil, the MacNeil half of "MacNeil/Lehrer" and Amy "Fast Times/Clueless" Heckerling sit down for another installment of those Writers Bloc deathmatches at the Skirball Cultural Center.
· Tom Morello (formerly of Rage Against the Machine, but you knew that), Bad Acid Trip, and others perform at the Peace and Justice Center in Venice for a Food Not Bombs benefit. Check it out if you need something to do to correct your karma after seeing Hitch.
Saturday
· Trunk show on Melrose! Bring your pepper spray and leave all fear of bodily injury at home.
· Buster Keaton's The General screens at UCLA’s Royce Hall. Nota bene, first-year film students: He was not the one with the funny mustache and the bowler. He was, however, Michael Keaton's grandfather.
· The Avalon's Spider Club hosts a celebrity charity event for AMBA Project Tsunami Relief Fund. It's starfucking...with a social conscience. We can all get behind that.
Sunday
· Ted Leo and the Pharmacists play the El Rey. We'd so be there, but we've got to stay home and meticulously study Desperate Housewives for clues about Bree van de Kamp's sexual preference. Abe Lincoln would've wanted it that way.

We pause to recognize this week's sponsors, whose piles of internet-directed cash allow us to occasionally upgrade from cheeseburger to Double-Double. If you'd like to hop on the Defamer advertising party-train (woo woo!), see this page.

Time to dish out warm fuzzies to this week's sponsors; without their cash flow, we wouldn't be able to afford footies for our pajamas. Interested? Info here.

· The nattily dressed young men of Interpol play the Grand Olympic Auditorium tonight with Blonde Redhead, no indie slouches themselves. Or if you like getting something for nothing, you can see Interpol's Carlos D DJ the after-party at the Beauty Bar.
· If you're anything like us, you're still bitter that you couldn't talk your way into the Slamdance opening night party and had to pay $30 for drink tickets redeemable for three lukewarm cans of Tecate. But tonight's a chance to overcome that bitterness, as the Slamdance festival winners screen at the Egyptian.
· For the two of you out there who'd prefer to absorb some culture (god forbid) rather than watch movies or try to catch an STD from a band, poet, writer, activist, and NAACP Image award winner Nikki Giovanni will deliver the goods at UCLA's Royce Hall.

Yesterday, a wise PR agency had contacted me with an offer to attend a press conference this morning for sisters-in-pop Hilary and Haylie Duff, who were going to discuss their very first ad campaign together. (What this campaign is for was mysteriously not included in the press release, but who cares? Celebrities! Tweens! Lip gloss!) While normally I wouldn t leave the house for a junket-style circle jerk, this one was special: I was being offered the opportunity to actually interview the Duff sisters for a few moments. I was so excited that I didn t even need my morning crystal to get out of bed.

· Jennifer Lopez cancels her European tour, succumbing to the celebrity mystery plague that's also delayed the Michael Jackson trial and caused countless problems on the set of Lindsay Lohan's movie in New Orleans.
· For just under two, glorious, Disney-slamming minutes, Robin Williams revives his once-mighty powers of comic improvisation. Did he rediscover coke? [via BoingBoing]
· Don't be fooled by the rocks that they got...even if they finally make it to the altar, their marriages won't last a year.
· We really want to believe that Dave Chappelle blew his $50 million from Comedy Central on weed and nearly wets himself laughing every time an executive calls to ask how the writing is going.
· Not exactly breaking news: In Hollywood, the Rich Get Richer for Free

· Isn't it great how we can read a story about backstabbing on the eve of the Oscars and then tell you about a reading for a book called The Big Show: High Times & Dirty Dealings Backstage at the Academy Awards at the Grove? It's like synergy, except we're too lazy and dumb to derive any kind of benefit from it.
· Jon Lovitz, SNL legend and Mom and Dad Save the World star (sorry, we still bear a grudge over that six bucks), hits the stage at the Laugh Factory for the matter-of-factly titled "An Evening with Jon Lovitz."
· Quickie concert round-up: The Prosaics play at Spaceland with local band Golden Arms; Kill Radio tries to "kill," as it were, at the Troubadour.

Hollywood PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are sent in by our readers. Send yours to tips@defamer.com and let the world know that you've seen Vince Vaughn's man-tit up close.

· Breaking! Nic Cage knocks up mysterious sushi-waitress bride!
· We knew this would happen eventually: a secret lab is finally breeding actresses without nipples, ensuring that embarrassing nip-slips are a thing of the past.
· Hey, Serena Williams isn't looking so hot these days. Must be the regular Ratner injections she's been getting.
· From today’s Hollywood Reporter, courtesy of Cinemocracy: “The FCC received complaints again this year about the Super Bowl halftime show, among them two viewers who said Paul McCartney bored them.”
· You make the call: Is the writer of something like Hitch capable of cleverly referencing Esquire's hoax It-Girl with the name of one of his characters, or is the similarity merely a coincidence? We're leaning towards the latter.
· Last week's "Marcia Cross is coming out" rumor throws a harsh light on unmarried women over 30, who are all obviously lesbians or otherwise damaged in some way.

· The Writers Bloc throws literary stars Andrew Sean Greer (writer of The Confessions of Max Tivoli) and Dan Handler (the man behind the Lemony Snicket industry) together in a room at the Skirball Cultural Center and lets them fight to the death. OK, it's possible that no deathmatch will transpire, but for $20, we at least want some blood spilled.
· Director Peter Bogdanovich does the Q&A thing following a screening of the Mask director's cut at the ArcLight. Obvious question to ask the director: Who spent longer in the make-up trailer, Eric Stoltz or Cher?
· Writer Koren Zailckas signs Smashed: Story of a Drunk Girlhood at Book Soup. There is no truth to the rumor that "Koren Zailckas" is Tara Reid's pen name. For all we know, Reid is functionally illiterate.

Attention all career-driven, ladder-climbing freaks: Gawker Media's urban travel blog, Gridskipper, is looking to hire an additional blogger with a mastery of monosyllabic communication. If you're broadly traveled, urban obsessed, and love working in your pajamas, this gig might be for you. You should know your way around the web with equal verve, and have journalistic ambitions and writing skill (no, seriously). Travel journalism experience not essential — in fact, we'll probably hold it against you. Interested applicants should email gridskip@gridskipper.com.

· Check out "Hearts Aflame: An Evening of Love and Hate Letters, 18th Century Missives to 21st Century E Mails" at the M Bar. Enjoy cocktails and dinner, an entertaining reading of the aforementioned missives and e-mails by actors like Joey Slotnick and Julie Warner, then retire to your bachelor pad for all the ass you can handle.
· Head out to CineSpace, where the cliché dinner and a movie becomes a little less clichéd at a screening of Casablanca. Here's looking at you, kid, looking up at yourself getting laid on the mirrored ceiling over your bed.
· Celebrate the holiday at the the Erotic Museum, where wine will be served amidst all things sex-related. If you and your date aren’t already doing it, you will be by the end of the night.
·' Follow dinner and drinks with a trip up to Mulholland Drive (but beware road closings) for some good, old fashioned "parking." Nostalgia is hot these days, and your companion might even think it’s romantic instead of a cynical play for a Valentine's Day hummer while overlooking our city's breathtaking vistas.

As our eagle-eyed readers have told us time and time again, local Apple stores are a fish-in-a-barrel location for celebrity sightings. Today's Wired News has a story on Mac-obsessed actors running amok in Apple's shiny, white retail spaces, and they convinced some clerks to break the store's gag order to let us know which stars go apeshit when they can't get access to the magical celebrity inventory or the special millionaire's discount.

Friday· We make no guarantees that if you attend the Barneys warehouse sale (which begins today and lasts until the 21st at the Barker Hanger at the Santa Monica Airport), you won't have your arm chewed off by someone else who wants the same pair of discounted shoes.
· Friday night music: Steve Earle and the Dukes at the Henry Fonda Theatre, Jonathan Richman at King King, Hidden Cameras at the Echo (with not-so-secret guest Beck opening?), and DJ ?uestlove at the Conga Room.
Saturday
· Reality is much funnier than anything we can dream up: The World Grilled Cheese-Eating Championship comes to Muscle Beach, with a special appearance by the Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese Sandwich. We shit you not.
· Also from the "we shit you not" file: Sweat with [sic] the oldies at Richard Simmons' Valentine Motivation and Aerobic Extravaganza at Slimmons, his Beverly Hills studio.
· Bright Eyes begins his 3-night stand at the Orpheum Theatre. Don your best Conor Oberst disguise and try to take home a lovelorn Winona Ryder!
Sunday
· You can probably safely skip watching the Grammys on CBS—no one you like is going to win anything—but you should probably monitor the internet to find out who won so you don't embarrass yourself at the parties. We won't have that problem unless Usher unexpectedly wanders into our kitchen.

Thanks to this week's advertisers, whose support keeps our bathtubs full of Creme de la Mer and our panties lined with cashmere. Interested in our high-market readers? Info here.

We'd like to pause and thank this week's sponsors, who've helped us turn our gig moonlighting as a bachelorette party stripper (think "very bad cop") into more of a hobby than something we need to do to eat two meals a day. If you'd like to advertise on Defamer and reach the world's sexiest readers, see our ad info page.

Well, here I am, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from my "vacation" at Fashion Week. And I have to confess: the Fall 2005 collections were everything I had hoped for and more. No, seriously. My zen time in the tents helped me to embark on some genuine self-exploration and reevaluation. I ve been making the wrong choices, heading down the wrong path—but no more. Things are going to change.

· Here's a little pre-Valentine’s Day gift idea for guys who desperately want out of their current relationship (or for guys who delude themselves into thinking they're going to get a three-way out of it): Take your girlfriend to Jen Sincero’s book reading for A Straight Girl's Guide To Sleeping With Chicks at Book Soup on Sunset.
· Get your fill of "burlesque beauties, catfighting cuties," and Mexican masked wrestling at Lucha VaVOOM 8: REAL Tough Love at The Mayan Theatre.
· Concert round-up: Blood Brothers do an in-store at Amoeba, Mountain Goats are at the Echo, and the Zutons play the Troubadour.