Dubious Creek

Which American Idol star is walking the streets now—but for diff reasons than you might imagine? Plus, which of the prettier than pretty new perky starlets is lying through her pearly whites? And has Chris Klein finally found his Katie replacement? Before we revisit (yet again) all things nubile, slutty and camera-ready in H'wood, let’s take a perky peek at that all too virginal va-va-voom set, the American Idol crowd! Woo-hoo! No Sanjaya items to follow, promise!

My Desk Totally Gay was driving along—top down, I’m sure—Robertson Boulevard in West Hollywood. Not too much near Kitson and where Lindsay and her snitty crowd put pedal to the metal but closer to the funkier areas of that overly chic address. Think outlets and minimalls and so forth. DTG had the new Carrie Underwood song, "Jesus Takes Viagra," or whatever it’s called, blaring outta his semipricey wheels.

“Hey, great CD,” an on-foot voice interrupted, while DTG was stopped at a light. How nervy, my homo-pal thought to himself, I’m trying to enjoy my private music space here while some perambulator decides to get all chatty-Cathy on me!

He slowly turned to the musical-moment invader, preparing to shoot off a snotty, dismissive look—the kind we homos perfected so well while being the last fifth-grader chosen for football practice.

And guess what? The space defiler was Carrie Underwood. Herself. Just beaming. So pleased with herself. However, this pleasure paled in comparison to my convertible source, who promptly pulled a fan frenzy and asked Ms. U. to autograph his CD cover, which she did. Happily.   

But when Carrie opened up the case, she found a Tim McGraw CD inside, and she offered to pen her signature on that one, too. Jeez. I’d say Ms. Carrie learned her manners not from the cross-nailing Simon (nor from that Judas-esque Paula) but probably from the Viagra-taker himself, Jesus. It’s all just too darling for words, n'est -ce pas?  Just when you thought awards season was over, Hollywood Life mag has their annual Young Hollywood Awards. This year’s shindig brought out some repeat revelers, like Brittany Snow and Amanda Bynes, along with new ones like Ludacris and Katherine Heigl.

Jewel was on hand to present a category of the awards and had a bit of a bone to pick with some members of Young Hollywood, so it seems. “I think that often we really encourage our celebrities to do the wrong thing,” she said, standing proud 'n' rather stunning in a hot-pink number. “We reward them with fame and money and lucrative endorsement offers for being ill behaved.” 

You don't say! So, it's actually not just us meanie media types making wayward wannabes look bad? I asked the singer if she thinks they get a bad rap, or if it's, like, possibly deserved.

“Well…nobody's making things up,” she finally said (sounding awfully familiar to the Grey's Anatomy powers that be, when I pressed them a while back).

It’s one thing for a thirtysomething-year-old to proclaim such unorthodox thoughts, but I wanted to get an actual member of the Young Hollywood brigade’s take on same. Ms. Amanda Bynes just turned 21, so, surely she’ll be hittin’ every hot spot west of Sepulveda, right? 

“I think I’ll go out as much as I’ve ever gone out...which is not a lot,” an overly made-up Miz Bee told me. “I like to dance and stuff, but drinking isn’t good for you in every way. It’s not good for your skin; it makes you feel horrible. So, drinking-wise, no.” 

Stop the presses! A star’s just reached the legal imbibing age and isn’t sucking down every shot in sight? Crazy, indeed. Katharine McPhee was singing the same tea-totaling tune when I asked what Young Hollywood can learn from Old Hollywood.  

“The class…that less is more,” said former American Idol chanteuse. “I think staying out of the limelight and not going to every club and every red carpet is actually better. The public gets sick of seeing the same people all the time. I try not to hang out at all the hip places all the time.” 

Oh, please! Can’t I get some stick-thin starlet to fess that she loves dancing on tabletops and downing beverages till dawn? Where’s Lindsay Lohan when you need her?  

Enter Kristin Cavallari. Guess she'll have to do. 'Cause when I saw Ms. Cee sashaying down the ebony carpet, extensions all wild and blonder than ever, I figured she'd have some party-powered insight. Alas, I was as wrong as Mary-Kate Olsen's shades collection.

“What’s your favorite thing to do with Nick Zano?” I asked, in regards to K.’s cute new boyf, who was waiting patiently (and safely) at the end of the pokey-press run. 

“Sit on the couch and watch TV and eat,” said the former reigning bad girl of Laguna Beach. “I haven’t been to a club since New Year's.” 

I reminded Miz Cav that she just hosted a bash in the Bahamas for some damn club opening.

“Oh, that doesn’t count!” she scoffed. “I was getting paid.”  

And I never inhaled, either.

Wonder if the evening’s host, Justin Long, was banking bucks for his emceeing? I give him credit for keeping the show moving through the 19, count ‘em nine-freakin’-teen awards.  

But some of his humor prolly pissed off some peeps. When Justin-babe introduced T.R. Knight, presenting to Pat Nixon’s doppelgänger, Katherine Heigl, he quipped, “I like to refer to him as Isaiah Washington’s muse.”

Polite, albeit exhausted, laughter followed.

And when J-hon brought Josh Henderson up on stage, he got in a low blow ‘bout Paris, who wasn’t even there. Tacky! There were also jokes at Brandon Davis' expense, but he’s fair n’ greasy game for anyone to make fun of, right?   Chris Klein and Ginnifer Goodwin, swappin’ spit. Katie Holmes’ former flame was spotted in a baseball cap and white sneaks outside Blowfish Sushi on Sunset Friday night. Chris and Gin, in all black and a knit cap, were “super-affectionate” and taking shots with staff, according to sushi spies. Wonder what they’re celebrating? Do we care? Toasting success elsewhere was…

Malcolm McDowell, that guy on Heroes. M2 hit the Palm Beach International Film Fest last weekend, where he took home the Career Achievement Award. While attending a postparty at Donald Trump’s Mar-A-Lago, the durable weirdo vet got a call saying his film was accepted into Cannes. Lucky lad! Perhaps celebrating a tad too hard was...

Michelle Rodriguez, wrestling and fake (or possibly real?) fighting with some biker chicks outside Teddy’s Friday night. “Her friend, who was covered in tattoos, started taking pics,” says a witness to the bizarro sidewalk scuffle. “They were yelling and running up and down the street...clearly intoxicated,” added Desk Pedestrian. Hope the bothered bunch took cabs home!