The Awful Truth

AP Photo/Bruno Bebert, file

Remember when Britney Spears just showed up at Madonna's L.A. tour stop and sorta comatose-jiggled through a halfassed duet of "Human Nature"? Well, it's payback time!

We're hearing from inside musical spies that Madonna's planning on paying back her crazy little showbiz sis, Brit-Brit, and showing up at one of her upcoming concerts—too fierce and fab!

What could the duet possibly be they'd choose from Britney's eclectic song catalog? Their already existing job together, "Me Against the Music," would just be too insanely appropriate, and since both babes are far more into the shock factor than actually making beautiful music together, scratch that notion.

Instead, we're told a far more likely choice would be something along the lines of…

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Jessica Alba looked like one hot mama in her calendar pics for Campari—too bad that lascivious look didn't last long.

Here's a really, really rosy Jessy on the equally red Campari carpet, looking like the shiniest Christmas ornament on the tree. This seasonal style mistake makes Alb-hon look wider than she did during her pregnancy, yikes. And Jess, why hide the best part of new mommyhood, your bountiful breasts?

At least your bowl-cut 'do looks better than it did here, but we much prefer you as a doe-eyed vamp, not a satin oven mitt, the perfect stocking stuffer for the MILF lover in your life.

WENN

If Paris Hilton's bar behavior this week says anything, it's that babe has more than moved on from her Madden man—like that's news, or anything. But let's discuss, just the same, because we know you adore all things sex-munchy, just like we do. Pare-poo hit up H'wood club Bardot Monday night, partying with a group of pals. Pare's winning BFF, Brittany Flickinger, was nowhere to be seen, tho, surprise. One barfly reported on P-poo rather breathlessly:

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Focus Features

Dear Ted:
While I have no arguments over who can play what role artistically, I have a big problem as a gay man with Hollywood refusing to cast openly gay men in films such as Milk for leading roles. Harvey Milk was all about visibility in real life. Therefore, once my company begins filming, gay men will be playing gay roles. This was where Prop 8 failed. We counted on other people to "represent" us instead of ourselves. So simple, yet nobody, gay or straight, in Hollywood, wants to get it. By the way, you "represent" like hell, baby!
—Jeff, Panther Studios, LLC

Dear Man to Man:
But what openly gay leading men are out there and available to be cast? It's slim pickings if you're trying to make a big-budget flick. I actually have no problem with Sean Penn playing Milk, he did a bang-up job I think Milk himself would have loved. It's the rest of the cast that should have been filled to the brim with out, or at least quasi-out, men and women. Neil Patrick Harris would have been great, for starters.

Dear Ted:
Thank you for the link to the Angelina Jolie story in the Times. It was an eye-opener! Of course, I've not been able to stomach her since she sunk her fangs into Brad Pitt, but it's still nice to see her lambasted in print. I think Brad must be the dumbest man in Hollywood. He doesn't seem to get it that he's a joke. Why don't we start picking on him for a change? Angie can take anything, but Brad's a weakling. I truly think that any man who married Jennifer Aniston, and then as much as married Angelina Jolie, can't have much going on in the cranium. If Brad felt the pressure of the press against him, I think he'd hightail it to mama like greased lightning.
—Anne

Dear Brad Roast:
Haven't you learned, hon, men (gay and straight) get away with everything in this town.

Dear Ted:
Wouldn't it be more appropriate for Ben Affleck to be home protecting his pregnant wife and toddler from a nutcase stalker rather than do-gooding it in Africa? I've always taken your misgivings about this marriage very seriously. As someone who writes for a living, I've always wanted to tell you I read you as much for your great prose styling as well as the gossip.
—Fredda

Dear Onto It:
I guess B's excuse to be away from his wife was just bad timing.

Dear Ted:
Is Oded Good-Head from One Unmanageable Blind Vice André 3000? If not, what about Busta Rhymes? I always thought something was up with André and those wigs! Am I close or way off track?
—Slockewilliams

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Lindsay Lohan must be in a giving mood, 'cause babe really opened up on her MySpace blog, maybe you saw? She's not just "sick of rumors startin'," as her own pop ditty goes, about her and Sam breaking up (way to slink halfway out of the closet, Linds). She's superpissed about something other than the paparazzi or her dad—Facebook. Just how livid is Lilo? L2 wrote what is quite possibly her longest blog entry yet about her FB account being disabled because administrators thought she was a poser; pretty funny, actually.

Just for comparison's sake, her blog about Barack Obama winning the presidency? Guess how long?

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Clearly all the sex we’re supposed to be gobbling up this holiday season is either right up there, or so deliciously implied in the forbidden teen-vampire delight Twilight. Forget the frozen-faced Nicole Kidman conjuring up anything remotely erotic in Australia—a pretty Herculean feat considering she’s acting opposite the most exquisitely hunky, hairy love god, Hugh Jackman.

Quit messing with your womanliness, woman!

Back to Twilight, which hit on all mattress-ready moods save one: It’s sexist. Why are all the boy vampires the driving, dynamic, more droolworthy ones? Why is Bella’s greatest achievement to be bedded by Edward? Why the hell isn’t she bedding who she pleases, and deciding when?

Per usual, this movie, like most movies, is driven by the dudes (and really, what do you expect, with original author Stephenie Meyer being a Mormon).

So here you have an opportunity, Twilight producers: For those obviously 260 billion sequels, you don’t need to rewrite Twilight history or anything, but do please pull a little Hollywood magic and give young girls all over the world some bitchin’ female empowerment to look up to. Could, say, a role be written for Megan Fox as an all-knowing lady vampire who makes Eddie-poo piss in his comfy sweaters? Oh, yeah!

BAUER-GRIFFIN.COM

We miss the days when all we knew about John Mayer was his songs. Who knew there was such a D-bag-behaving jigaloon behind J.M.'s former curls? Here's Johnny arriving at LAX draped in black from head to toe, looking quelle European while donning one saucy neckerchief and the beginnings of a faux-stache.

Does he think wearing all noir will keep him out of sight of the paps? Or is he being as naive as Jen Aniston? We still can't see what she sees in him besides scoring rival headlines with Angie.

The longer Jenny's with somebody, anybody—even a guy who resembles an international jewel thief—the longer pregnancy rumors can spread out. And every celeb knows that staying coy about being with baby garners the same publicity an Oscar nom does.

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Madonna's Argentinean fans don't have to cry anymore for her—M's returning to Buenos Aires for her Sticky & Sweet (and Botoxed and Buff) Tour, the first time she'll be in South America since filming Evita in 1995.

Guess the Argentine are still head over heels for their faux Eva Perón, since three more shows have been added for die-hard M fans, and three of the four dates completely sold out. That's the best news Madge could get, no?

Unless, of course, Maddy finds out she's expecting more than a big payday. Last time she was in South America, Ms. Ciccone found out she was pregnant with Lourdes. Should we, and A-Rod, be prepared for another not-so-immaculate conception this time around? Or is being the big 5-0 reason enough for Madge to stick to her skanky sexual ways without worry? I totally vote for the former. You just know it's only a matter of time before that scare starts up, partick with a stud like Roddy baby.

Joe Fury

We're sure Mama Phelps is just thrilled with what her baby boy brought home for Thanksgiving. People reports that Michael Phelps brought his not-so-ladylike girlfriend back to Baltimore to do a meet 'n' greet with the fam. M.P's Sarah Larson-in-training GF, Caroline Pal, is a cocktail waitress at the Palms nightclub, Moon, in Veg-Nasty. Natch, we had to ask a former Phelps flame her thoughts on the whole sitch:

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Madonna making her way to Miami, staying on Star Island. Both A-Rod and former BFF Rosie O'Donnell have living quarters there, but M favored finagling her own damn villa, like she could be anyone's houseguest without driving the host absolutely insane—A-Rod in par-tick. Madge's guitar player Monte Pittman was also seen in Ef-Hell-Ay, at the Martini party atop the Gansevoort. He was wearing a tragic Ed Hardy black jacket—I guess M's style is contagious...or part of his contract?—and boyfriend pulled an Owen Wilson and didn't wash his hands after going. Ew.

Guess Maddy requires her style be adopted by all her employees, on- and offstage. Less smelly elsewhere...

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Fame Pictures

Eva Longoria Parker was spotted out in town puff-puffin' away old pregnancy rumors, which we told you all was kaput last month. Eva-hon, who is usually quite the D.L. smoker, sported a tummy-huggin' vest (trust us, there's no room for forgiveness in those) to debut her much-slimmer waist.

If any of you have been keeping up with Desperate Housewives, which is finally good again this season, then you know that coincidentally ELP's fit figure is being written back into the show. Maybe E-doll really was just getting plump.

She still has that minor double chin, which we won't nitpick too much because we can all get photographed from awkward angles. Or maybe there once was truth to those baby-Parker rumors. Howev, even we don't wanna go down that road, 'cause it's really none of our biz.

Shocker, I know.

We would like to see some tiny Tonys running around soon though, because some genetically gifted gene pool needs to give the mini-Brangelinas a run for their totally and exhaustingly overexposed money.

Britney Spears' MTV doc, a 90-minute pity party thrown for the self-described "sad" pop singer, barely gave us insight into Britters' brain besides regretful clichés, ignoring way too obvious Q's like: What was with the British accent, Brit? Or dating a paparazzi prick? How about all those panty-free shots; were those planned or just an oopsy oversight?

But Sunday's snooze of an interview wasn't B-babe's first foray into televised self-exploitation, doncha know. 'Member her and K-Fed's little-watched (and barely watchable) Britney and Kevin: Chaotic? Sure, trucker-hat-donning B.S. was bonkers back then, videotaping herself and a sketchy dude she barely knew at the time, taking B-12 shots, gorging her face with junk food, her wit best exemplified by her acute observations, such as: "These look like boobs...but they're my knees!"

But damn, if Brit-Brit wasn't enjoying life back then, prolly since she didn't know at the time all that footage would be seen by the public. No need to impress anybody, like she so diligently tried to do in "For the Record"—look how strong I am! Buy my new album, y'all!

Check out our fave Chaotic clip above for a refresher in case you forgot what our darling li'l Spearsy looked like happy.