Thumbs Up, Undies On!

Perhaps takin' advice from fellow outlaw Snoop Dogg, Nicole Richie sought solitude with current femme friend Paris, while a discreetly clothed Britney Spears jingled her bells. But where was her dubious date? And since an Awful-ite asked in that coal-laden mailbag, I'm givin' you my two cents on 2006's cinematic bests!

Smashbox Cosmetics threw their holiday fete Thursday night at Area, where Brent Bolthouse was also celebrating his B-day and Snoop Dogg was performing. So, of course, the club was packed with celebs and tabloid bull's-eyes alike, including Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears (her pink panties were also in the house, thank gawd), among others.

Seems the stress of Nicole Richie's run-in with the law has taken its toll on the gal, who looked most fragile, gaunt and haggard as she sipped orange juice. Tryin' to get your daily dose of vitamin C, babe?

N.R.'s notorious pal Paris was playing the part of loving mother/friend, doting on the dazed Nicole during their short stay at said bash. They left before Snoop even took the stage...Such a shame, as the rapper put on a te-riff show.

Brit and Linds, never ones to leave the party early, did stick around for S.'s performance. Brit was shakin' her stuff on the dance floor, while Linds, always the shrinking violet, hopped up on stage with Snoop. Oh, and almost forget to tell ya: J.R. Rotem, that overly gelled, giant-chain-wearing character Britney was swapping spit with last weekend, arrived at the bitchin' do with two underage blondes. Are J. and Brit already over, or did they never really start? I caught up with him on the carpet to ask.

"I really can't comment on that," he ducked. "But we are working together."

The opportunistic producer then proceeded to tell me how much Ms. S.'s new record is gonna rock...but hey, this is the same dude who helped out on Kevin Federline's album, so take that with a grain of anything you can throw over your shoulder—pronto.

And speaking of things on the salty side, let's hit the mouthy mailbox and see what you readers are squawkin' 'n' tawkin' about this week.

Dear Ted:
In last week's mailbag, you replied to Naughty Nadine that "with or without the piercing, the looks of [Britney's] 'gina is horrific! After consecutively poppin' out two li'l Spears, our single lady needs to spruce that area up." Ms. Spears had C-sections and didn't pop those two out "naturally."
  Sue
  Fairport, New York

Dear Anatomically Correct:
I just said she popped them out; I didn't say where from, did I? And of course I know she had a C-section, babe—her scar in those pics scarred me for life!

Dear Ted:
Given the fact that the entire world knows Mel Gibson is a bigot, I can't for the life of me figure out why his latest directing gig did so well at the box office. I won't give him a single penny of my hard-earned money. Guess I was hoping more people would follow suit. Trés sad.
  Britney
  Dallas

Dear Apocalypto No-Go:
Peeps have über-short memories in Tinseltown (and most everywhere)...ain't it a damn shame? I didn't pay to see it, either—'twas a free, painful screening I attended, if it makes you feel better, babe.

Dear Ted:
Regarding your Dec. 13 comments on Anne Hathaway ("squeaky-clean Anne has a dark side"), her dark side is on display in the movie Havoc! She's smokin' hot, and her ability to convincingly portray someone other than a Disney princess is obvious.
  Christine
  Indastix, Minnesota

Dear Anne Fan:
Thanks, babe…promise it's on my list for the next DVD run! Can you believe she got snubbed for The Devil Wears Prada?

Dear Ted:
Long time, yada, yada. As a fellow journalist I enjoy your scoop, although I hate the lack of sources (but I understand that is the world you live in). One complaint in Wednesday's column. Call me a little too William Safire-ish, but you did not have over 1,000 Awful-ites respond, you had more than 1,000 Awful-ites respond.
  Jake
  Arnprior, Ontario, Canada

Dear Mother:
You are correct. But since when has yours truly been known to follow the rules?

Dear Ted:
The second-place idea for Britney's comeback clearly should've taken top prize. Extra kudos should be given to that hilarious publicist in training. (Chia Pet? Really? This wins first place?) The problem isn't her lack of pubes, it's her lack of class. (I was so sure Brit was on her way to a brighter, classier future. My mistake.)
  Vicki
  St. Petersburg, Florida

Dear Brit Bust:
Yours and the rest of the country's mistake, babe. But I've been sayin' for ages that a classy Brit just ain't happening. You can take the drive-thru burrito outta the gal, but you can't…you get the pic. [tktktk this should be the other way around (though it doesn't quite work the same): You can take the gal outta the fast-food restaurant, but you can't …]

Dear Ted:
What the hell is wrong with Nicole Kidman's face? Is this what 40 does to a woman? I'm concerned. She looks dissipated with her weird puffy cheeks and suddenly close-set eyes. Blech!
  Mary
  Georgia

Dear Bitchy Wonderer:
Her dude was in rehab, her ex-hub got married to a younger gal, and she had to get naked with an über-hairy Robert Downey Jr. in Fur. Cut the gal some slack!

Dear Ted:
Did you read that Page Six blind item about a gossip columnist falling off the wagon?! Say it isn't you! I love me my Ted and have for many, many years.
  Megan
  London, England

Dear Guessin' Gal:
Ain't me—I haven't had a drink since Madonna loved Sean.

Dear Ted:
I love ya, darlin', but sometimes what you don't say leaves me with more questions. Most notably (for this column anyway!), why the H was Jared Leto honored at the Breakthrough Awards?!
  Anne
  St. Paul, Minnesota

Dear Curious:
Actually, Jared was bein' honored for his musical breakthrough with his band 30 Seconds to Mars. I was a bit skeptical of the whole goth rocker thing too, but gotta give Jare-babe props for his hard work. Evidently, he turned down a Clint Eastwood flick to tour with his band. Mazel tov!

Dear Ted:
You were the only one out there who didn't buy into Vaughniston. Could it be...is it possible...is there a chance that Vince Vaughn is (gasp) Toothy Tile and the whole (very strange) romance was as phony as the New York settings on Friends? Or am I knocking on the wrong closet door?
  Barbara
  Princeton, New Jersey

Dear Closet Case:
Hon, our beloved Toothy has never dated Jennifer Aniston.

Dear Ted:
The light finally dawned—there is no Toothy Tile! He is a composite, right? Methinks it was partly Neil Patrick, Lance and T.R., and after their outings recently, Toothy had to morph into something else. 'Tis sad to have reached this conclusion, but methinks 'tis true. Please tell me I am wrong! (And if I am, give us a new clue to chew on.) 
  Thomas
  Houston

Dear You Thinks Wrong:
Darling, I promise, Toothy does indeed exist—and he is one divine dude.

Dear Ted:
I am still reeling from the trauma of viewing Britney's crotch shot. May I recover soon. I do have a question for you though: As a gay man, what, pray tell, do you suggest she do to "spruce up" the horrific 'gina?
  Fran
  Burlington, Vermont

Dear Hit One Too Many Times:
First, I'd suggest a good wax. She looked like she had some serious razor burn and stubble going on. Then, perhaps some Neosporin on that nasty C-section scar. Finally, a pair of (supersexy) panties!

Dear Ted:
Why is Jim Carrey sporting that rather odd 'do? Lately, he's crossed some line of hair sanity. It's as if he's gone to the same weirdo who's keeping Madonna in retro-Fawcett flips. Does great wealth = scary hair? Explain, pretty please.
  Marina
  New York City

Dear Hair Scare:
I agree, his current David Spade-esque 'do doesn't do him justice. Maybe he's hopin' it'll make him funnier and snag him a movie?

Dear Ted:
Thanks for the glimpse into what makes Toothy's b-f tick. He's quickly becoming as interesting as Toothy himself. I think perhaps b-f deserves a name! Or at least tell us more about him.
  Sam
  Cincinnati

Dear Itchin' for Info:
I'll give you this: He is quite the charming fellah and well equipped, if not a tad on the prissy side. But isn't that always the way with most studmuffins?

Dear Ted:
Would you please stop calling yourself a Tom Cruise fan? No fan would talk about him the way you do. You give us true fans a bad name. I am sure there are many more things you can find to be catty about.

Dear Cruisin' for a Bruisin':
Listen, it's called constructive criticism. Get over it.

Dear Ted:
I'm a big fan of celebrity gossip and the Awful Truth, which I read every day, but alas, somewhere along the way I missed what BFF means. Sorry I'm silly, but could you please explain?
  Heidi
  Sydney, Australia

Dear Silly Sistah:
Have you been stuck in a cave with Keanu Reeves or somethin', babe? It means "best friends forever"—as in what Paris and Brit seemed to be for a hot second.

Dear Ted:
What is the deal with J.Lo and Marc suddenly BFF with TomKat? They were never mentioned with them before the wedding, but now they are everywhere together. Is this a case of publicity whoring, or what?
  Susan
  Mukwonago, Wisconsin

Dear Smells Fishy:
I think this is a case of primo publicity and possible Scientology converts.

Dear Ted:
What's with the Kelly Ripa diss? C'mon, Ted, you can't seriously think she's a homophobic person for saying she didn't know where his hand had been.
  Amanda
  Seattle, Washington

Dear Get Real:
It was a not so thinly veiled antigay wink-wink (which Ripa did, literally, to the audience as she said the insult)—you know it, and the whole world knows it.  

Dear Ted:
No offense, but I read your column to get the inside scoop on celebrities...not to hear your reviews of movies. That's what we all have Ebert and Roeper for. To trash Blood Diamond is just asinine, but I guess I shouldn't expect anything more from a guy who praised Transamerica but booed Brokeback Mountain. I would love to hear what your top 10 movies of the year are.
  Pam
  Carrollton, Virginia

Dear Asked for It:
In no particular order: The Devil Wears Prada, Babel, The Painted Veil, Bobby, Little Children, Thank You for Smoking, Little Miss Sunshine, The Queen, The Devil Wears Prada (because it's so great, it deserves two mentions), and, last, but certainly not least, The Devilish Pop-Tart Wears No Underwear!