Jesse Metcalfe was dumped from ABC lady soap Desperate Housewives (where he played a sexy boy toy gardener), starred in a PSA about Choices called John Tucker Must Die, went to rehab, and has now, according to new photos, reemerged, grizzled and with one large pectoral muscle. Not exactly sure what he's trying to tell us with this latest look other than that he's now "tough" (note the presence of chest hair!) and evidently smokes. (Oh and he's in a new action movie costarring Chace Crawford! Badass!) The photo at right is part of a group that was uploaded, sadly, to his MySpace page. Thanks, but no thanks Jesse. Click through for larger image, and for an awful trailer for his sooo cooooool movie Loaded. [Picture on right via ohlala mag]

Legendary literature magazine The Paris Review is still publishing, you know, despite the death of founding editor George Plimpton and the requisite identity crisis that followed changes introduced by new editor Philip Gourevitch (color photos! shorter poems!). One thus far unmentioned change: while the magazine used to be put together entirely by a small crew of Plimpton friends, protégés, and well-groomed young acolytes (Yale-graduate interns and "editorial assistants" who'd use the magazine's famous parties to establish themselves in the literary scene, such as it was), now their staff is branching out a bit from that rarefied Ivy League lit-mag milieu. At least in the case of the notorious American Apparel Model Paris Review intern.

When the blogger and prostitute Debauchette was interviewed by Diane Sawyer for an ABC News report, several tricks were used to conceal her identity. She appeared mainly in silhouette, with a distorted profile and a distorted voice. She was identified only as a "beautiful," "highly educated" woman with a day job in the arts. The tricks were not enough, however, to keep Debauchette's parents from figuring out it was their daughter on the screen when they tuned in, as fate would have it, to watch the show. Mom saw Sawyer's report twice, to make sure her instincts had been correct, then fired off an email to her daughter, quoted in a Debauchette blog post:

It's time once again for Dirt Sandwich, the brain-smoothing snack that simulates the experience of Being Pat O'Brien—if only for a few fleeting minutes, before dumping you out unceremoniously somewhere near the Nevada Turnpike. This week's episode, lovingly pressed by Defamer's own master videologist (and part-time FBI forensic psychiatrist who only has 88 minutes to solve her own murder!) Molly McAleer, is chock-full of as many deli-meat shockers and condiment exclusives as we could cram between two slices of bread: Christie Brinkley's bearded mystery man! Someone screaming at a white Mercedes! And two varieties of cancer! And for just $1.49 more, you can make it a combo with chips and a drink. So what are you waiting for? Dig in.

Nicholas Stoller is having a very good year. After being taken under the mighty wing of Judd Apatow, his hilarious-yet-touching directorial debut, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, opens today. Not only that, he and star Jason Segel are currently making the new Muppet movie. Clearly, it's time to learn a little more about this guy before he becomes too much of a big shot. Since they're old friends, we asked our frequent guest-blogger Nick Malis (who contractually required us to plug Malis in Wonderland and Cute Things Falling Asleep) to interview Stoller. What follows is a fascinating portrait of a young artist at the dawn of his career. Also, he talks about penises a lot. Stick around after the jump to hear Stoller opine on the homoerotic world of Judd Apatow's office, seeing Kristen Bell naked, and what Richard Roeper is like in bed.

A Page Six reporter has sold her debut novel to Simon & Schuster. Paula Froelich's Mercury in Retrograde centers on three New York women: a newspaper reporter named Penelope Mercury, who gets fired; a wealthy socialite fashion editor, Lena "Lipstick" Lippencraff, and a newlywed corporate lawyer Dana Gluck, who moves out on her husband when she discovers he's having an affair. Finally, some insight into New York women who have it at all, but still feel unfulfilled, by attractive female New York journalist. Except we've been there before, so many many times.

When we were notified of the existence of Ladies Who Launch, a website for women with startups, we suppressed the gag reflex triggered by the name. We then consulted one of our favorite entrepreneuses on exactly how horrified we should be. "Yep, we've talked about a profile," she told us. "But bitcheswhobusiness.com, that would be my website." To be clear, we have nothing against anyone offering women like our IM correspondent "resources, opportunity, community," or, for that matter, publicity. We just can't get past the site's unfortunate moniker.

Huffington Post and IAC project 23/6 is running a poll, asking readers to vote for who they think should die in the upcoming Sex and the City movie. That's right! Someone dies! Now, don't get me wrong, their poll is fun. But the "should" aspect bothers me a bit. I'm more concerned with who will die as a result of the Sex and the City movie. Answer a mortifyingly stupid poll after the jump.

Victoria Beckham and her razor-sharp cheekbones celebrated her 34th birthday last night alongside soon-to-be Yeshivite husband David, and two new female friends: Eva Longoria and Kate Beckinsale, both of whom were dressed to the nines in order to live up to the immaculately glamorous appearances Posh and her cronies tend to exhibit. But were Longoria and Beckinsale also trying to fill the stilettos of Beckham BFF, a role Katie Holmes has filled for so many years? Favored dining, uh, dieting companions Tom and Katie were noticeably absent from the festivities. Did Tom Cruise's wishes to keep Katie away from the bobble-headed Brit come true so quickly?

Columbia University has long considered itself to be at the forefront of student activism, so we're sure they are very proud of themselves for allowing boys—sorry, men—at their Take Back the Night march for the first time tonight. Take Back the Night is a march against violence against women, and this reminded me of the time back in college when I reported on the mens' group "Men Against Violence Against Women," accidentally calling it "Men Against Women Against Violence." The typo ran the next day, and women and men alike were in an uproar. Whoops. [Columbia Spectator]

Derek Khan is living the high life now in Dubai, having put his past as a jewelry-pinching celebrity stylist behind him. He has recaptured some of his past glory, now appearing as a "commentator and makeover specialist" on satellite TV and in magazines like OK! Middle East. But in between Khan's come-up and his comeback, between 2003 and 2005, he did time at Rikers Island and two upstate prisons. None of his famous clients visited him in jail, so Khan kept tabs on them by reading fashion magazines. You can guess how that went over in the clink:

Hey, non-white women: Glamour is not racist, despite what you may have read! Why, just this week the magazine hosted a cookoff for "ethnically diverse" couples. One is happening tonight! Half the contestants will make roast chicken, half will make meatloaf. And probably none will be fatties, since everyone was asked to submit in advance "j-peg photos of each of you (300 dpi)- 5 x7." Glamour's panicked email seeking contestants, reprinted after the jump, made its way to at least one minority journalism association, so hopefully the magazine was able to contact some of those elusive non-whites "outside of the [sic] NY and NJ."

Things are apparently a mess at fashion magazine Elle. A terrible reality show is has taken over the office, according to Ben Widdicombe. The show is called "Fashionista," it's produced by Tyra, and it will air on The CW later this year. It documents the search for a new assistant for creative director Joe Zee, even though he has an assistant already, one who is by all reports perfectly competent. So the show's contestants are just running around the office, getting in everyone's way with pointless "challenges," competing for a job they won't get. Meanwhile, an email we received from an anonymous tipster seems to suggest that maybe Mr. Zee, with his star-making new reality show on the way, might be helping to publicize the ouster of the mag's last reality show star, former fashion director Nina Garcia.

Even though she's only 28 and has already spawned one mini-me, Kate Hudson has baby fever. In an interview with London's Sunday Times, the smiley actress unloaded some very Cameron Diaz-esque baggage, including the fact that she's oh-so-ready to get knocked up as soon as possible. And apparently, Hudson has figured out the elusive secret to determining whether a potential suitor is a "man" or a "boy." But when it comes to dating, Hudson just needs a pretty pair of lips:

Despite all the photos we've seen from the Sex And The City movie set, and all the rumors circling around about plotlines and marriages and dream sequences, fans of the show are still in the dark regarding what lies in store for the four aging heroines. And expressing any interest whatsoever is somewhat embarrassing, since caring about the futures of Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte has become slightly de rigueur as each passing year post-finale makes SATC episodes look more and more ancient and silly. But for those of you who feel no shame in wondering what happens in the big-screen version of the girls' lives (at least in the privacy of your own cubicle or home), the NY Post has provided a few spoilers to satisfy your curiosity. More info after the jump; warning, it's spoiler heavy.

If you're planning on going out and getting bombed tonight, it's best to do so on a full stomach. Enter Dirt Sandwich, carefully crafted by Defamer's Top Chef, Molly McAleer. Each week, she grazes through the rich pasture of tabloid television for the juiciest ingredients and then stacks them all together into an easily digestible sammy, one that's guaranteed to soak up all the booze you'll be pouring down your gullet this evening. This week's Dirt Sandwich features Robin Williams' appearance at Idol Gives Back (not showing any sign of his personal troubles!), the first interview Denise Richards has ever given in her bathroom (an E! News exclusive!), Jamie Lynn Spears' romantic birthday dinner at a Louisiana Ruby Tuesdays (say what you will, but their Double Chocolate Cake is KILLER) and, of course, Rob Lowe's allegations that his nanny was set to blackmail him with "a vicious laundry list of false terribles" (which, btw, became word of the week at Defamer HQ). Enjoy, kids ... False Terribles!

Oh dear, what a week for Project Runway. First, the show is moving to the cat-lady network and now judge Nina "fashiondirectorforEllemagazine" Garcia is apparently gone as Fashion Director of Elle, according to WWD. Elle threw a party for Simon Doonan and Nina was "notably absent." Garcia was reportedly in the office this morning, but gone by the afternoon. What does it mean? How will Heidi explain who she is next season?

Oh Ellen Page. First you send your "power lesbian" publicist into a tizzy defending your heterosexual honor, then you make a fool out of poor Jay Leno in his own house of belly laughs. Have you really moved on to shun the potty-mouthed legend that is Jane Fonda? One stripper-scripted indie hit on your resume does not entitle you to divadom quite yet. In a scathing NY Daily News blind item today, a "rising young actress" is reported to have brushed off Fonda's desire to meet her at a party with a curse-laden remark, and as our detective skills suggest after the jump, all signs point to Page as the catty star in question.

The National Press Club in Washington, D.C. is celebrating its centennial this month. It's only semi-recently since they've tolerated women in the club: "In 1956, the men offered a compromise by inviting women to attend the luncheons, so long as they sat in the balcony and left as soon as the lunch was over. While the men dined below, the women shared the balcony with television cameras, hot lights, and coils of electrical wiring." They weren't allowed to join as full members until 1971, and that was only because they needed money, and capitalism trumps sexism. But women weren't the only ones dissed. Radio news broadcasters (the bloggers of their day) "were also treated as second-class citizens at first, being permitted to join the club only as non-voting members." [Oxford University Press blog] Celebrate the old days with a clip from "His Girl Friday," after the jump.

What's a girl to do when the only headlines she's making involve DUIs and smoking the reefer? Why, pose for highly styled, candid-ish bikini shoot with the photo agency widely known for setting up highly styled, candid-ish bikini shoots of course! Mischa Barton put on her designer bikini best, got her hair did and brought along props like books and hats to the beach yesterday to act her way through a series of paparazzi shots, in an attempt to prove to the world that she can read (!) and pick her own wedgies (!).