Reuters article today: "Muscular young men are likely to have more sex partners than their less-chiseled peers, according to UCLA researchers. But when it comes to settling down and finding a long-term partner, women tend to pick regular guys over those with huge biceps." Um, get out?!?! Did you also read about that other study where good looking people were found to be more attractive than ugly people? Sheesh. Still, just for giggles, we asked our ladies and gays about their experience with macho macho men. However, it turned out that no one we know had ever dated a muscular dude except our most whorey friends!

Yesterday's announcement that Bauer was shutting down Cocktail before the first issue even launched caught many in the industry off-guard—the poor thing didn't even have a chance! "Nobody saw anything coming," says one former staffer. But another source tells us that signs pointing to the magazine's problems had been evident for the past few months. For one thing, what were they doing naming it Cocktail in the first place?

From the mailbag comes a tale of what goes down when a gaggle of women's magazine staffers simultaneously find out that their magazine is going down the tubes:

Today we were going to ask you what direction to go in next as we discover Manhattan's most attractive, and therefore important, people. Shall we look for hotties among architects? Headwaiters? Graphic designers? On a particular block of 52nd street? Do let me know. But while looking for a photo to illustrate the post, we hit a snag. What image immediately communicates the concept "hottie?" Ding ding ding: The Office and bad Robin Williams movie star John Krasinski. Mmm. That's when I realized: John Krasinski is the only celebrity who, given the chance, I would really and truly want to do it with. Weird, right? Aren't we all supposed to have a list? And isn't the list supposed to include, like, Brad Pitt? Personally I wouldn't ride that taut-faced gayseemer after having adopted Angelina Jolie's pussy. And while there are other celebrities I find... compelling (Paul Rudd, and Irish hottie Aidan Gillen, and Dominic West from 'The Wire'), there's no one else I'd actually say yes to. He's my Claire Danes, if you will. Who's yours?

Not so long ago, we'd wondered "how many counter-examples are there of happily single men and women, living their lives for themselves? There certainly isn't a fucking section of the New York Times devoted to their exploits every weekend." Well, ask and ye shall receive! But also, be careful what you wish for. This week's Week In Review section was all about single people, and why there are so damn many of the lonely unfortunates. And it got off to a great start with this thigh-slapping line: "The news that 51 percent of all women live without a spouse might be enough to make you invest in cat futures." Oh ha ha ha. Offended! How dare anyone imply that sad single ladies are all desperate cat ladies! Wait, though: are they? We decided to ask around.

Faced with looming ovary-shrivel in her late 30s, Colette Labouff Atkinson opted to finish her manuscript instead of using her creative energies to pop out a baby, she writes in an essay today on Babble. Fair enough! She even got a card from a friend: "Congratulations! It's a book!" Heh. Just one thing, though: where's Colette's book baby now? The internet doesn't seem to have heard of it, and there are no deals listed on Publisher's Marketplace. Maybe she put it up for adoption.

In the proud tradition of The Crazy, Random "Chris Rock Thing" and The Imposter With The Same Name As A Model/Actor That Lindsay Lohan Kept Booty-Calling, today's LAT brings us the story of a telecommunications snafu that truly defines this moment in popular culture: The Incredibly True Tale of the UCLA Girl Who Inherited Paris Hilton's Cellphone Number. Fittingly, this narrative about misdirected calls, mistakenly proffered party invites, and expressions of post-sentencing solidarity that would never lift the spirit of their intended recipient begins in a bathroom stall in West Hollywood:

The extraordinarily well-adjusted Bee Schaffer attempts to complete a hug with her mother, Vogue editor Anna Wintour, outside the Ritz. It made us sad a little.

"Forget the proverbial seven-year itch. Not to disillusion the half million or so June brides and bridegrooms who were just married, but new research suggests that the spark may fizzle within only three years." And: "It may be that happy coupledom always came with a three-year expiration date." And: "'What's keeping people together is their love and commitment for each other,' Professor Musick said, 'and that's fragile.'"

This most recent photo of Naomi, who as everyone knows got sperminated by her fiance the greatest actor of our time Liev Schrieber, was taken in LA on June 27. Lady is like 11 months pregnant. Or at least that is how it has been seeming to Stalker Map Intern Valerie Flame. Somewhere towards the end of Naomi's second trimester, Valerie started getting really pissy about the flood of boring samey Naomi and Liev sightings. "I am so sick of them. They're seen everywhere all the time and I don't care about them. How about a ban unless she gives birth on the sidewalk?" When her request was not met, things started to get sorta twisted!

With the highly lucrative days of (allegedly!) supplying Charlie Sheen with enough trannie valets to keep his fleet of luxury automobiles erotically parallel parked at all times long behind her, erstwhile whoremonger-to-the-Hollywood-stars Heidi Fleiss must find increasingly creative ways to leverage her unique brand for new lines of business. The latest, the cleverly named Nevada laundromat Dirty Laundry (it seems that Clean Clothes for Dirty, Dirty Sluts was already registered by a nearby competitor), should keep Fleiss solvent until she can find a place to park the trailer for her long-planned, lady-servicing Stud Farm brothel.

We were never going to mention notorious cad Zach Braff again. But then, in today's mailbag: "On saturday night we were at beauty bar on 14th...zach braff and drew barrymore arrived and danced the night away while he continued to give her "sex eyes"...there was a lot of making out. what happened to spike jones?" AND! "Saw Drew Barrymore and Zach Braff sucking face on the dance floor late Saturday night/Sunday morning at Beauty Bar (14th and 3rd). Zach declined my offer for a shot of Jagermeister. The DJ declined my requests to play songs exclusively from the Wedding Singer and Garden State." Drew Barrymore: You have let us down for the last time.

Lisa K. Friedman totally ruined her husband's vacation by breaking her foot, that bitch. But we'd rather have every bone in our body snapped than be married to this asshole for one single second. Witness: "It is not relevant to the complaint that neither the Plaintiff nor the Defendant immediately knew that the foot was broken, despite the Plaintiff's report that she heard a "snapping sound" when she stumbled and fell. The Defendant dismissed this evidence of a broken bone, contending, ridiculously, that it must have been the strap on her sandal snapping. The Plaintiff did not feel the bone snap because she was consumed at the time by a white light of pain, so intense that it blotted out all other physical sensation." Is anyone else already convinced that this complaint should be an actual divorce filing, not a supposedly humorous Modern Love column? It gets so. much. worse.

A most important email missive just went out to the staff at InStyle. An actress who was on the Most Important Television Show Of Our Time will be in the office! But please don't get too close.

We can't believe we're saying this about anything in n+1, which is the most important literary journal of our time—but some things about Carlene Bauer's review of How Sassy Changed My Life are dead-on and great. Like: she takes the authors to task for not spending "more time thinking about why something like Sassy will probably never happen again, starting with the oft-repeated reason of corporate consolidation... Now advertisers know that girls have money—or at least that their parents do—but what difference has it made? Whose fault is it that putting Björk, Sarah Silverman, or Cat Power on the cover of a magazine has become a signal of subversion? Would corporations really lose money if they acknowledged their readers and viewers had more on their minds than sex, prize money, and violence?" Word. But also this could have done with some slash-and-burn chopping.

It's the oldest trick in the book: disarm your enemies with faux-dumbness and then stab 'em in the back while they're making fun of you—and also rake in some cold hard cash while you're at it. Today's USA Today fluffernutter sandwich about 55-year-old Cosmo girl Kate White is an object lesson in how this is done. On the "dumb blonde" front: "Cover lines on Cosmo are paramount, because they help sell, in a good month, 2 million copies on newsstands alone. On the upcoming August cover, which she's still massaging, White points to one—'Erotic sex!'—that she says is a grabber. 'We've used the word 'sex' in a lot of combinations, but we've never said 'erotic sex' before. I like the idea of the reader going, 'Oooh, erotic sex,' 'White says, a gleam in her eye." Heh. But watch out! This lady is actually sharpening her knives when you think she's sharpening her eyeliner pencil. Oh: and sticking them into Bonnie Fuller.

Apparently, there's a downside to getting your cooch culled. The August issue of Clinical Infectious Diseases (what, you don't subscribe?) is scheduled to report on a deforesting gone awry.

"I'm not sure when or why the tabloid angle on me was decided that I am a cad," writes Zach Braff on his MySpace blog. Hmm! Could it have been on or around June 6? Just a guess! He continues to refute "tabloid" claims of his caddishness like so: "I would have much rather it had been that I am secretly a dentist or that I love soup. I am in fact, merely doing what every other single 32 year old man in NYC is doing this summer. I am dating. If you must read that stuff, please don't digest it as fact. It is probably one of the only real shitty things one has to get used to when living in the public eye, but I suppose one of the benefits of this blog is that you can hear it directly from me."

"This picture brings up a lot of things about portraiture", says Director of Photography Amy Steigbigel. "It's a collaboration between photographer and subject. Who decided she was going to be blindfolded, how was this choice made? There is mystery associated with Angelina Jolie. Why is she wearing that blindfold? What is the meaning of that blindfold? It creates conflict right off the bat."

It feels like only yesterday that Paris Hilton was re-jailed after one magical night of luxuriating in the freedom of home-imprisonment, but the moment when she finally emerges from an unjust incarceration and shines as a Mandelaesque beacon of hope to all of those affected by Los Angeles County's oppressive system of celebutardtheid is nigh. And when Hilton exits the Century Regional Detention Facility sometime next week, she will need to be greeted by a television camera and a friendly face to ease her transition into her new role as Goodwill Ambassador for Stuff She Cares About Now.