Out on a Limb?

What the eff's goin' on over on that Anne Heche show, Men in Trees? Does there need to be a cast-wide libido trimming, perhaps? And Isaiah Washington and Sienna Miller get mouths moving overtime, per usual, ready to get juicy with it?

Sick of all that Grey's Anatomy hullabaloo?

Tough.

Here's more:

In that très short time span in between Isaiah Washington's outburst to me backstage at the Globes last week (when he denied calling costar T.R. Knight the F-word—and repeated the contemptible, antigay slur, in the process) and Mr. W.'s highly opportune entry into rump-rehabbing counseling, guess what happened back on the Grey's ABC set in Hell-Ay? Any ideas here, girlfriends?

I mean, just imagine how it was for the Grey's gang before he made things so much worse at the Globes. "Everyone was running scared" of what he'd say or do next, as I reported last week, as well. All because, as I also 'splained, I.W.—insist my super-duper inside Grey's sources—is a "hothead," unpredictable to the core.

So, picture it: post-Globes performance (which is what Washington, indeed, pulled, back in the press room, as he directed all eyes on his potty mouth and self-pity platter, as opposed to the show's big win, which is where his efforts should have been focused), Isaiah hits the Silverlake set. But something's off, something's weird, something's...different.

Does Isaiah have a cold? 'Cause myriad folks noticed he wasn't quite himself—gone, most definitely, was the jaunty, jackass of all emotive trades, the outspoken bully. I.W. was low-key—sniffling, too, noticed several Grey's set members.

Then it dawned on everybody. Apparently, as the finale to his bravura bad-boy outta hell exhibition, Washington topped it off—so say more than one saline witness—by crying. A lot. Bawling, I'm told.

And here's the real kick in the rubber parts—as one of my kickass exes used to say (it's my fave): "Nobody cared."

No one on the Grey's medical make-believe set, say my Anatomy minders, gave a you know what. They all just let the hornet's-nest creator sting himself, I guess you could say.

"They just kept on, as if nobody was noticing. And he just kept on crying," added another Grey's tear observer. "It was...perfect!"

Not sure I agree. I mean, nothing has had perfection written anywhere near it during this entire unseemly episode, in my opinion. For ince, you should see that poisonous mailbox of mine tomorrow. Stingers, thy name are Awful Truth readers, of that much I'm confident.

I'm so terribly sad about Men in Trees'  Anne Heche leaving her darling Coley Laffoon, aren't you? But just to cheer everybody up: Thought it was important for you all to know that while Anne isn't commenting publicly on the fact that she may, or may not, have substituted Coley for her MIT costar James Tupper (a hubba-muffin, far more so than Mr. El, must say), privately, it's all folks on the Men set are talking about. That, and the fact that Coley-doll is doing his best—or so I'm whispered to—to take care of James' ex, Kate Mayfield.

Thought that would be comforting news for everybody. Par-tick since, in other small-screen scuttlebutt land, I'm also so depressed to hear from my bitchy-snitchy Desk CBS that execs are openly not exactly speaking nicely there about a certain high-profile gal whose name I would never tell you, but which begins with K.

Seems the K-diva is not exactly the kitten the world so entranced by her purr thinks she is.

Happy catty hunting, everybody!

The Santa Barbara Film Fest kicked off last Thursday night with Factory Girl, the new biopic about '60s celeb terrible Andy Warhol and cocaine-u-tante Edie Sedgwick. And it makes sense, really, that the movie premiered there, since S.B. is where Edie was born and died.

Sienna Miller's performance is pretty spot-on as the drug-addled young socialite, while Hayden Christensen's Bob Dylan-esque character leaves a more puzzling aftertaste, similar to the one we all had trouble swallowing when the goss hit the tabloids about H.C. and Sienna-hon being an off-camera item, I'd say. Whatev.

Nonetheless, the two byoots—and they both are gorgeous, fer sure—have some über-intense, rather realistic sex scenes onscreen, which I asked Sienna about at the postparty.

"I think the love scenes are never easy...it's never a comfortable thing to do when you have a camera crew," she said of their nearly naked scenes. "It's not at all sexy—at all."

So, what's the secret to making it look hot? "You try to really connect with the person you're in the scene with," she explained. "You look at each other and say, 'This is uncomfortable, let's just do the best we can.' And then you giggle in between takes and go, 'Omigod, this is so weird.' "

"You don't try to get turned on," she continued. "I've never heard of any actor who said they really got horny in a love scene—it just doesn't happen." (Except for, perhaps, on the set of Mr. and Mrs. Smith?)

"You can fake having sex," Sienna finished. "Women fake orgasms all the time, don't they? Come on!"

Hey, two things: I knew I liked this Brit babe for a reason, and I told you all that questionable stuff between S.M. and H.C. back then was just that—pro mush.

'Cause Brad and Angelina, they ain't.