· The newly-restored Aero Theater in Santa Monica is finally opening its doors tonight with a screening of In Good Company and a discussion with director Paul Weitz. (They were *this* close to getting Dennis Quaid.)
· For those of you seeking a fading, quasi-religious fad for the New Year, the Kabbalah Centre is offering a free introductory event. But don't get too brainwashed right off the bat—you need to keep the flexibility to move on to whatever cult gets hot in 2005.
· The Section Quartet plays Radiohead's OK Computer at the Echo. We've always wondered what Thom Yorke might sound like as a viola.
· What would happen if Jenna and Barbara Bush had their own talk show? Find out at The Bush Twins Party Hour at The Next Stage. Somehow, we think this is going to involve dangerous amount of alcohol.

· The eavesdropping ex-publicist from FX gets three years of probation for his spying antics after he was fired. The DA doesn't think the flack was remorseful. Doesn't he know that publicists lack the remorse gland?
· An Orange Bowl rep says that Ashlee Simpson was booed at their halftime show because of her SNL performance. This is going to come off as juvenile, but: No fucking duh, genius.
· How Many Things Are Wrong With the Following PR Quotable? Um, many.
· Teri Hatcher, Real-Life Desperate Housewife. Also, they're real and they're spectacular, etc etc.

· The great Hammer Screenings at UCLA continue with Oscar-winning director Jessica Yu presenting In the Realms of the Unreal, her 2004 documentary about artist Henry Darger, who spent his childhood in an asylum, worked as a janitor, and like any successful artist, died broke and alone. You know, your typical feel-good movie.
· A smattering of live music: Vent your frustrations from not being hugged enough as a kid at Funeral for A Friend at the Troubadour, or stalk various members of Incubus as Division Group with DJ Kilmore play the Knitting Factory.
· Get a dose of the funny from young, bright comics (while they still have their looks) at The Next Round with Ben Gleib at the (legendary) Improv and presented by the delinquents at CollegeHumor.com.
· We're not going to recommend that you actually watch the show, but roughly one million TV and radio ads indicate that there's a special episode of Alias on tonight. Make it stop!

· "Micro Management is about evil midgets who take over Titan Industries, a United States defense contractor and missile manufacturer, and attempt to use the missiles to blow up Disneyland." Holy fucking shit, someone must make this movie right fucking now.
· Vividblurry provides Britney Spears with a cautionary guide to her inevitable pregnancy. We wouldn't want little DoMe Federline to start her life with any physical disadvantages, would we?
· Apparently tired with conspicuously purchasing her sex tape, Paris Hilton now moves on to conspicuously stealing her sex tape.
· We'd once spent a leisurely afternoon trying to figure out Dennis Quaid, but then we said fuck it—that guy is an enigma.

· Someone at the ArcLight is either a wiseass or completely deranged, as McG will appear in the latest installment of the theater's "Hollywood's Master Storytellers" Q & A following a screening of masterwork Charlie's Angels. But it's worth attending just for the chance that someone will ask him whether he was canned from Superman because he's afraid of flying.
· The Skirball Cultural Center presents The Climax (starring Boris Karloff) as part of its Lifespan series "exploring and celebrating the new longevity." Massive plastic surgery has to figure into this discussion somewhere, right?
· The always great Aimee Mann begins her two-night stand tonight at Largo...unless all of Fairfax Avenue is carried away by the torrential rain.

· You play all cool, but we know you're just a sensualist at heart. Indulge all five at Realm of the Senses, a mixed media gallery show at James Cohan Gallery, 533 W 26th St, through Jan. 22. [Flavorpill]

Hollywood PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are sent in by our readers. Send yours to tips@defamer.com and let Bruce Willis know the shine off of his head is ruining your high-priced meal.

· Starved for material and eager to revisit past dirt, Page Six and Jeannette Walls hand out their year-end gossip awards. The winners: Tara Reid, Courtney Love, and Britney Spears. The losers: Tara Reid, Courtney Love, and Britney Spears. Funny how that works.
· LA.com's art director narrowly escapes tsunami disaster, only to return to the Biblical downpours currently offered by our local skies.
· Kirsten Dunst's bathing suit falls off, and, naturally, paparazzi lenses (and hoards of bloggers) are waiting. [via Fleshbot]
· Pierce Brosnan and his Aston Martin face off with a spoiled Ferrari-driving teen on the streets of our fair city. Michael Bay is set to direct the first two movies chronicling their aborted drag race.
· Sandra Bullock donates $1 million to tsunami (really, we must've typed that word a hundred times today) relief; George W. Bush expected to defiantly pony up another billion before others in Hollywood embarrass him.

While we would never suggest that anyone leave their apartments while there's a genuine risk of having to engage their windshield wipers for a purpose other than dislodging a flier for cheap auto insurance, we offer today's To Do list to spite the angry rain gods.
· Local shoegazers Helen Stellar begin their free Monday residency at the Echo tonight with a CD release party.
·The Lost but Found: Assemblage, Collage and Sculpture, 1920-2002 exhibit at the Norton Simon Museum explores how one person’s garbage can become another's art. There seems to be a Jerry Bruckheimer punchline in here somewhere, but we too hungry to think of one just now.
· Any event exhibiting the kind of phonetic gymnastics employed by the Jah-Mak-En Me Crazy Ladies Dance Contest deserves to be patronized.

Thanks to the intolerable overload of wrap-ups, we refuse to list the Best Whatever Of 2004 and we'd rather be fucked gently with a chainsaw than stoop to giving out Gawkies for Best Nip Slip. Instead, still-on-our-couch guest co-editor Matt Haber and I are looking ahead to the future. In 2005, Gawker resolves to:

A message from the Gawker Media mothership:

Gawker Media (publisher of this here site as well as Wonkette, Gizmodo, Defamer, Fleshbot, Screenhead, Kotaku, and Jalopnik) is looking for a corporate intern.

Hello all, Mark Lisanti here. I thought I'd spent my entire "vacation" strapped to the Y of the Hollywood sign, letting the transformative waters of our local tsunami (please, hold your hate mail and send your relief checks to the Red Cross) wash away a truly debilitating "eating disorder," but then I realized the whole experience was part of a guided meditation with my "cruise director," Nurse Ratched.

Sure, maybe we were a little naive to think our Hungarian overlord would innocently suggest a holiday vacation for his little editorial elves, but we certainly didn't deserve to be thrown into an unmarked van and sent off to a quaint facility West of the Hudson and East of the tolerable. It was there that Matt and I were forced to consume almost 6,000 calories a day. It was there that multivitamins were forced into our parched mouths. And it was there that we were exposed to the evils of "sunlight." By the time we wrestled out of our handcuffs and escaped from this seventh ring of the inferno, our $350 jeans looked unfashionably snug and our cheeks were a sickening shade of pink.

In lieu of our traditional weekend to-do list, I offer you the advice that's always worked for me while in L.A.: start early with the Night Train, drive on the sidewalk a little bit, and "accidentally" bang on your neighbor's door at 3 a.m. until they let you in for some sex.

I am stepping out of the royal we for a moment to remind you that it's still me, Andrew Krucoff, helming the S.S. Gawker and the iceberg ahead doesn't look very threatening. The regular editors are having a great time on vacation, the color is beginning to return to their cheeks, and Jessica is back to her fighting weight. They are primed to kick the living shit out of 2005 when they resume duty here on Monday. Until then, heads down, chins up, and more rock.

Exactly how does one write an AP headline like "Celebrities Among Victims of Tsunami" and sleep at night?

· Add to the list of fucked-up things about California: no Prada snakeskin handbags for you beach-going lasses, as the sale of python skin is inexplicably illegal in the golden state. What's next—a ban on panda-paw slippers? [StylePhile]
· Ah, the World Entertainment News Network does us right again, delivering what might be our favorite sentence of the last few months: "The OC star Mischa Barton has big plans for 2005 - she hopes to learn how to drive and buy her first home." [IMDB/WENN]
· The last year in which none of the five Best Picture Oscar nominations had made more than $100 mil? 1989. [Hot Blog]
· Alleged Paige Davis sex tape allegedly not of Paige Davis. [Reality Blurred]

Good morning. Your regular editors, Jessica Coen and Matt Haber, are safely tucked away in a Queens Boulevard safehouse with 10 pounds of duct tape and very little else. Don't worry too much since I, Andrew Krucoff, will only be here to act as Gawker's caretaker during the media industry's annual "Sleeps Week" between Christmas and New Year's. Please stick around for the bad jokes and attempts to sneak porn onto the site. I'll try not to make a mockery of all the mockery that goes on around here.

After watching the Pope work his way through last night's performance at the Vatican, we realized that much like John Paul Deux, we might be in need of a little rest. As such, Matt Haber and I are taking the next week off to pursue other projects: namely, the building of next year's waxworks nativity featuring our favorite Manhattanites (with Jonathan Cheban as Joseph, of course!). We may pop in here and there, but otherwise we'll be leaving you in the capable (and slightly hairy) hands of Andrew Krucoff. He'll ride this bitch into 2005 and, come January 3rd, Haber and I will be back to help you break all of your pointless resolutions.