Super Snoopers

We dish on the rumors that Toothy Tile is about to be outed and cross a few more suspects off our list of suspects! Plus, what’s Justin Timberlake mouthing off about and pouring into his trap while on stage in Sin City? Drink up, buttercups!

Since I’ve been away on vacay, where I injured my back—no, not from schtupping, but from running, sorry—I realize I’ve been terrible in leaving you all doll-pusses without any Blind Vice action. Doubly sorry!

Came home to a bit of an online tremor that Mr. Toothy Tile himself is about to be outed—elsewhere on the Internet. Hmmm. Who could it be? (The closeted actor, not the outer, I mean.)

Let’s see. There’s Jesse Metcalfe, a very popular guess for Mr. T, I wonder why? Could it be that meticulous attention J.M. gives his brow 'n' bod parts? Possibly. In fact, while normally balmy Hell-Ay was sweltering in 100-plus swampy degrees—
thanks to Al Gore’s predicted weather apocalypse, no doubt—Jess-hon was bouncy as evah.

There he was, as if he were tiptoeing through the temperature-perf tulips, showing off his bitchin’ bulge collection at 24 Hour Fitness, at the ArcLight in H'wood.

That’s, like, such the equivalent of movie stars heading to the mall when they need a good ego-boosting recognition quotient—as the ArcLight is a tad trendier (i.e., cooler) spot to Hell-Ay-hang than the Grove. 

Mr. Em, actually, I should admit, was a bit moist, as the Hades-provided air was beginning to make even the former Desperate Housewives pretty boy get a tad dewy. Cutoff red tee and cutoff white shorts was the very Flashdance-esque, perfectly ripped attire for Metcalfe. So very Jennifer Beals, love it.

And the public opinion? Better than days past, when the dubious actor has often been ripped a new brown eye(brow) for his overly beautified, often vacuous pro demeanor.

“Ick!” screamed one flashy blond bystander. “I don’t even like this guy, but he was lookin’ yummy!”

Could it be Jess-doll’s latest tat that’s makin’ him look, how shall we say, less Toothy-esque?

‘Cause, yes, this is a long-ass way of telling you I suspect Metcalfe’s days of making himself a prime candidate for the correct identity of the elusive Toothy T may be coming to an end. And it ain’t him, anyway.

Oh, let’s have a little (item-wise, not deltoid speaking) boob-tube addendum to the above, shall we? Did you not hear? Word’s out on the Desperate set to quit casting so many homo-leaning types—i.e., ya know, the metrosexual set.

“Prepare to see a lot more scars and unshaven types,” revealed a DH source. “And I don’t mean the GQ look of James Denton, either. We’re talking rugged.”

Yikes! What, are the Desperate powers that be planning on hiring Gerard Butler, or somethin’?

Which takes us right back to this hideously endless (truly, I hope not, I just won’t be the one to participate in any outing—just torturous hints 'n' such) Toothy Tile guessing game. Butler’s also a very bandied ‘bout boy name often added, by über-curious Awfulites, to the same-sex mystery list. Ain’t him, either. Nor is it Owen Wilson, whom folks are all fired up about, now that the talented dude tried to do himself in.

I suppose I didn’t help matters when I added—via one of my Dallas sources—that O.W.’s got some rather tricky sex sitches he’s struggling with. Now, earth to the sexuality obsessed set (I know, I know, look who’s blabbin’): Straight, bisexual and transgender honeys all have their between-the-sheets demons, too—don’t have to be a fruit to feel like ya can’t cope.

And nooky’s hardly the only salty sense O.W.’s battling, obviously.

Gosh, should there perhaps be a plain ol’ Raunchy Rehab, ya think? Somewhere near Bakersfield? Just get it all 12-stepped outta ya in one fell swoop? Just a thought, nothin’ more.

Uh, on that zero-proof notion, don't expect to see Justin Timberlake going to rehab anytime soon. During his Saturday night Sin City show at Mandalay Bay, Justin took a shot on stage. So reminds me of the year Sean Penn came backstage at the Kodak (right after nabbing an Oscar for Mystic River), tinkling vodka cocktail wobbling almost as much as the star. Such class.

"Everyone's talking about going to rehab...I say give me a refill!” bellowed the ballsy singer before tossing back a tequila shot. The tipsy town idiot continued:

"Everyone says what happens in Vegas should stay in Vegas," Timberlake charged, as if he were the newly appointed manager of the Britney Spears for President campaign. "I say f--k that!"

Politically imperf J.T. also told concertgoers that somewhere in Vegas, there was a vault with "tons of evidence" on him. Justin continued to be cheeky throughout the edgy two-hour show, finishing with an encore performance of his SNL hit, "Dick in a Box." Justin did a slow, semiserious version while playing the piano before cracking up midcroon. Couldn’t finish off what he’d started (you know how common that is with the hard-drinkin’ dudes, I’m sure).

Later on, Mr. Tee partied on over at the Mirage’s Jet, with his mama and Timbaland by his swaggering side. J-stud even sang a few of his hit songs for the packed house before leaving around five ayem.

He and Spears really should get back together. Remember, I said long ago, they’re utter perfection for each other. And how.

• Justin, it seems, is all about imbibing these days, right? Maybe he should pick up a bottle of Absolut New Orleans, already. Vodka giant Absolut has rolled out a special-edition spirit, flavored with mango and black pepper, to help benefit the Big Easy.

Quasi-decadent celebs such as Eva Longoria and Matthew McConaughey have hap-hap-happily signed bottles to be auctioned off for charity. How very mondo bongo! Plus, all proceeds from sales of the liquor go to Gulf Coast charities. Now you can drink and thrive.

• Jane Lynch is far less boozy in things she’s bombastic ‘bout. Saving not only her liver but unwanted animals is J.L.’s style. (Completely off the point: If Justin T really wants to become an actor, as he professes, he should study Lynch for her deftly comic jobs, hilarious stuff.)

Ms. El is hosting the annual Race for Rescues in Pasadena this year. It’s a great organization the likes of breeder-loving celebs such as Paris Hilton don’t seem to have an iota of awareness about. I mean, why adopt a rescue pooch that’ll otherwise be euthanized (what a friggin’ Waspy word for murdered) when you can have an overpriced fuzzy toy for your purse!

Seriously, come help Jane, along with heaps of homeless critters. Margo and I will be barking there, too!