Friday
1. Think that there aren't enough hipster documentaries about rivalries between indie bands? We do! Luckily, Dig!, about the competition between the Dandy Warhols and The Brian Jonestown Massacre, is showing at the Nuart to fill that void in local cinema.
2. Or if you're in the mood to celebrate John Kerry's debate performance, you can check out Going Upriver.
Saturday
3.Create: Fixate hits downtown like a burning Skid Row shanty-town filled with artists. We have no idea what that means, but check it out anyway.
4. The Libertines and dance-punk heroes Radio 4 play the Henry Fonda. As always, it's BYOD, but how hard is it to score in the middle of Hollywood?
5. Help Fox recover some of the production budget from The Complex: Malibu, as the condos renovated on the show are up for auction.
Sunday
6. Stay glued to your TV sets, as both the Angels and Dodgers fight to make the playoffs in the last weekend of the season. If you don't make it to Dodger Stadium for the game, we ask that you observe the rules of local fandom and turn off the game after the seventh inning.

We'd like to pause for a moment and give the proverbial "shout-out" to our sponsors, without whom we'd be "having sex" for "money" on Hollywood Boulevard. And really, no one wants that. To find out how to advertise with us and reach the hungriest consumers in the world, see this page.

—Interpol — "Interpolantics: New Album in Stores September 28th — OctoberTour Dates — Ringtones — Interpol Space — and more."

—Defamer presents A Dirty Shame, the newest Film by John Waters: A Gawker Media publication with Fine Line features

We sincerely hope that you like CGI sharks, otherwise you may find this a good weekend to catch up on lawn maintenance or finally getting started on that extramarital affair.

With all of the attention that Britney Spears' announcement that she's going to write on her website attracted, you'd think someone just found a video with twelve hours of Spears fucking punctuated by a diatribe on the merits of slavery. [Ed.note—That's so unfair. This is the Letter of Truth! ] Nevertheless, we feel compelled to ask: "Is it up yet?" Because we've spent the last 24 hours trying to raise the $24.95 membership fee, and after a very uncomfortable night bent over on the passenger seat of a certain A-list actor's H2, we're almost halfway to our goal! Should the letter get posted before the second phase of our "Pledge Drive For the Truth" (where the action in the Hummer might result in a permanent limp) is completed, feel free to forward on the Truth to us. We promise we'll reallocate our Truth fund to therapy, or least a mid-priced cane.

We're tipping our 40s to this week's sponsors, who keep us soused with the good stuff. Interested? More info available here.

—"If you think that rape should be legal, then don't vote." Someone should really sign up Cameron Diaz to debate Bush. She's got the um, zeal to get the job done.
—Did someone teach Paris Hilton how to use instant messaging? [via stereogum]
—Could it be possible that we were scooped on breaking Lohan news? Egads!
—Andy Towle has more news from the set of Jake Gyllenhaal/Heath Ledger gay cowboy flick Brokeback Mountain.
—And since we haven't mentioned the debates enough today, poli-nerd sister site Wonkette has a drinking game to keep you occupied during the flip-flop talk.

1. We've been plunged so deeply into our clichéd Hollywood left-wing, liberal hysteria that we're probably going to hallucinate that John Kerry is debating Dick Cheney in a cheap, drug-store devil costume. But that's not going to stop us from watching and occasionally screaming "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" at the television long after the debates are over. Watch the debate or be forced to turn in the microchip Donald Rumsfeld has secretly implanted in your spleen and then immediately leave the country.
2. Defamer favorite T.C. Boyle (Drop City, The Road to Wellville, World’s End) reads from his new book, The Inner Circle, a fictionalized account of the life and work of sex researcher Alfred C. Kinsey, tonight at Book Soup.
3. Earlimart is playing a CD release show at El Cid. We'd encourage you to catch them before they blow up, but since we like their stuff, they're probably over already.

Word on the street is that humpy E! gossiper Ted Casablanca has directed hordes of his loyal readers to this site on a hunt for "additional clues" to his patented Blind Vices, which through linguistic contortions and verbal subterfuge mask the identities of various actors and the people that join them in highly discreet gay sex or capricious drug use. If you're one of these guests, here's a link to today's Blind Item Guessing Game, still in progress. Past Guessing Games—complete with the reader-supplied "clues" or "guesses" you crave—covering previous blind items can be found here.

Sightings are sent in by sharp-eyed readers; send yours to tips@gawker.com.

—Everyone's trying to be a comedy writer: Sister site Wonkette unearths recycled Seinfeldisms in press releases about Iraq.
—Who would have guessed anything fishy could happen with online, offshore gambling on reality television? Why not try betting on something more obviously foolproof, like boxing?
—The incredibly informative Brandcameo tracks product placement in movies. It makes it so much easier to get outraged about all the secret advertising you're being subjected to.
—Vanity Fair editor/starfucker supreme Graydon Carter muses about how great VF would be if he weren't infected with the starfucking virus. [fifth item]
—And, just because: Masturnader.

1. Go see the Comedians of Comedy at the El Rey featuring Patton Oswalt, Brian Posehn, and Maria Bamford. The last time we saw Oswalt do stand-up, we laughed so hard we almost vomited. Is there any better endorsement that that?
2. Get your Elton John on at the Scissor Sisters show at Avalon. Or, at the very least, get your "that sounds a lot like Elton John before he started doing Disney soundtracks, but in a good way" on.
3. If it's feeling like a quieter kind of night, how about a paranoid political thriller that was recently remade into an inferior movie? The Manchurian Candidate (the original, don't despair) plays at the ArcLight.

Our readers are officially putting bikram-devotee celebrities on notice—if you bring your weak shit and high-priced yoga mats to Silver Lake, everyone's going to know about your snotty tissues and your bad outfits. Even if you were once the darling of the indie film world before that regrettable guest spot on Will & Grace, you'll never do the downward-facing dog on the Eastside again!

In our third and last segment of the Wedding Vows series, we take a further look at the careers of women who marry men in the financial industry and the most popular professional pairings of couples. But first, a Research Scientist from Ann Arbor, MI responds to our investment banker/teacher hypothesis:

Status-conscious social climbers from all corners of the earth descend on NYC in search of that special someone, preferably with a beluga whale-sized bank account. The phrase "Work Hard, Mate Hard" certainly applies here. People often complain that the first question upon meeting someone else in New York is "What do you do?" It's a fair question, to some a measure of adaptability, and usually followed by, "Can you pass that?" But how does this translate onto the pages of the New York Times Wedding Vows? After the jump, Intern Alexis and Andrew Krucoff won't hurt your head with words; the charts tell a story of grooms on Wall Street, brides in the classroom, and The Gays all over the map.

This morning's inbox contained a stalker gem so earth-shattering, so odd, we had to give it its own treatment. Celebrity-studded events for artist Julian Schnabel aren't exactly surprising, but when they include attendees like P. Diddy and the Olsen twins, we have to breathe into a paper bag. A reader reports on the artsy fray:

—Mary-Kate and Ashley's lawyers are threatening to sue over a "I Fucked the Olsen Twins Before They Were Famous" t-shirt. We remember the more innocent days, when the DualStar attorneys sent a cease-and-desist to the Save Mary-Kate kids for a much milder t-shirt. Good times.
—Minor Sex and the City star John Corbett quits acting...after he's done promoting two more movies. Was he that Mr. Big guy? No? Never mind.
—Rebecca Romijn-Stamos buys cheap clothes in Canoga Park. Maybe she's just bargain-happy, but in most Hollywood circles this is a suicide warning sign. Someone better keep an eye on her.
—LAist's Paul Davidson goes deep inside the festering bigotry of the L.A. area code class system.
—These are going to make very cool t-shirts.

Sure, you have Defamer in your bookmarks, your RSS feeds, and leave printed-out copies laying around the bathrooms of the Paramount lot for "emergency reading." Now the folks at Yahoo have made it easy to add Defamer to your My Yahoo page just by clicking this link. They even made us this "cool blog" button and we didn't even have to blow anyone! Self-promotion in Hollywood has never been so fellatio-free!

1. Spend an evening with Fox TV casting execs at the Sportsmen's Lodge in Studio City. We can't guarantee that attendance will guarantee that you'll be discovered or inserted into your very own reality show, but at least you can meet the people whose assistants shred your unsolicited headshots.
2. Remember when a Police-era Sting and Eurythmic Annie Lennox used to flaunt an almost threatening sexuality in their music? Well, they're older now, so you won't have to worry about that scary sex stuff, unless you're part of the circa-1987 VH-1 generation. See them at the Hollywood Bowl tonight and demand that Sting lay off the ululating and play his classics instead.
3. If you like your rock hotter, younger, and a lot more Swedish, pass up the Bowl and catch the Sahara Hotnights at the Roxy.

I was just about to crawl out of my daily shame spiral and, you know, take a bath or maybe even put on clothes, when I found out that the New York Press (that's the free weekly that isn't the Village Voice) had printed their Best of Manhattan list. And, wouldn't you know it, Gawker has made the list as Best Path To Instant Asshole Status! OMG! Thank you! We'd like to thank our agents, manager and—oh, wait, it's not a compliment?

Hollywood PrivacyWatch celebrity sightings are sent by you, the pointing-and-laughing reader. Send yours to tips@defamer.com.