Lindsay Lohan is now taking her daddy issues public. From Page Six:

· "A quadriplegic attorney settled his lawsuit against producers of NBC's "The Apprentice" after they agreed to make clear the program accepts applications from the disabled." Well, they do if they display absolutely no business acumen and their tits look great in a sweater.
· But if he paints like J. Lo sings, how could you tell where the ass is? Marc Anthony does an rear-view nude portrait of his wife.
· Gawker breaks down the NY gossip rag dick-measuring contest that's raging across the pages of the Daily News and the Post.
· "Touch My Balls and My Ass": The Remix
· The best news ever: Drunk Asshole Hotel (© Heather Havrilesky) may return—with its original drunk asshole cast! Huzzah!

All hail Official Defamer Cocksmith Benicio Del Toro, who when confronted with a well-circulated rumor that he had sex with a certain starlet in the elevator of the Chateau Marmont, responded thusly:

In a playful attempt to circumvent the gag order that may prevent potential witness Jay Leno from making jokes about the Michael Jackson child molestation trial, Leno has been interrupting his monologue to hand off his trademark softball material to a series of similarly unfunny (but legally unhampered) peers, like Brad Garrett and Dennis Miller. According to NBC, however, Leno's hilarious workaround is totally unnecessary:

Moments ago, Gawker HQ back in NY received a call from The Firm, trying to make sure a delivery was completed. A messenger then arrived with some flowers and the above note allegedly sent by Fred Durst (whom you may remember, from reports as recently as an hour ago, is suing Gawker Media). We just placed a call to The Firm to find out if this was really from him or the funniest prank we'd ever seen, and they confirmed that the note is legit. Looks like Denton gets to keep his $80 million. (Not that we'll see any of it.)

Color us surprised, and very, very afraid, for Rosie O'Donnell has joined the ranks of celebrity bloggers. We were skeptical at first, but as TV Tattle notes, the blog is linked on O'Donnell's home page. Also disturbing: Every post falls somewhere between stream of consciousness and haiku:

In this month's issue of GQ, Russell Crowe says that the FBI informed him of a plot to "culturally destabilize" America by kidnapping him in early 2001:

After the sister of the accuser in Michael Jackson's child molestation trial took the stand and revealed Jackson's extravagant gifts and the sharing of Diet Coke cans that may or may not have contained Jesus Juice, it was time for "John Doe's" brother to give his testimony on Monday. Things quickly got creepy:

First Denise and Charlie, then Katie Holmes and Chris Klein, and now Shannon Elizabeth and some guy. Who is Shannon Elizabeth again? Oh, that's right, we just remembered why we care: She was the naked one from American Pie. The heartbreak in Hollywood never ends, somewhere an angel loses its reproductive organs, etc etc.

Someone managed to slip a sticker advertising the latest Hilton-flavored t-shirt (from the litigation-loving entrepreneurs who brought you the Save Mary-Kate shirt) on the celebutante's retail mothership. Not bad, but sales would really soar if they can find a way to sticker a higher-traffic area, like the inside of Hilton's vagina. Dream big, kids.

Before you start pawning all of your possession to rent a Hollywood-endorsed "dip n' dunk" photo booth, consider that Sunday's NYT piece contains numerous indications that the trend is already colder than a Republican in Carrie Fisher's guest room:

The Dapper Danger blog took a job as an extra on the New Orleans set of the Lindsay Lohan epic Just My Luck and learns some lessons about the background craft: There's a lot of standing around and waiting, suspect food, and the crew always hates the cast:

Needing a break from the stresses of winning her second Oscar and inconspicuously scarfing Astro burgers in front of blinding paparazzi flashbulbs, Hilary Swank and oft-emasculated house-husband Chad Something have earned a vacation:

In fairness, it seems that this story was pulled from the same Cosmo article that yielded Alba's apparent career suicide. But after the phone stopped ringing, we get the feeling that her publicist did some quick thinking and begged the tabloids to emphasize the more casting-positive aspects of the story. Nice save.

We're sure that the juxtaposition of headlines on Lindsay Lohan's W mag cover was just a coincidence. Also, we're intrigued by this talk of "the new breast implants." Are these the kind that seem to grow and shrink from month to month, and impel a starlet constantly to deny their existence to the press? We'd love to have a pair of those, although we'd have to buy a whole new wardrobe to accomodate them.

In her testimony at the Michael Jackson Child Molestation Trial of the Century, the sister of Jackson's accuser gave this account of a private flight that her family took with Jackson:

· Chris Klein and Katie Holmes have split. How much pain can Hollywood possibly be expected to endure in one day? We imagine that Klein grew tired of the way that every time the adorable Holmes stood still in a park, chipmunks would gather at her feet and bluebirds would perch on her shoulders. [Ed.note—For the record, we could never get tired of that.]
· Anna Nicole Smith did something wacky that may or may not have been fueled by a diet-pill binge? Get OUT!
· There's another great Photoshop contest at Worth1000. Collateray (left) is by far our favorite—watch for ABC to pick up a drama about a blind assassin tomorrow. [via MCN]
· You're too late to buy Jessica Simpson's grandparents' house, slaughter a hundred chickens in it, and correct the awful karma imbalance that it's unleashed on the world.

We feel confident in naming this the press release of the week on a Thursday, knowing that it's going to take an HBO announcement that March 6th is "Cocksucker Day" in honor of Deadwood's premiere to top this:

It's time to put this week's blind item game to bed so that we can return to our usual level of inbox activity. Slip another hand under the sweater of One Derailed Diva Blind Vice:

Sure, it seems easy, but you have to blow David Geffen to get the PIN.