Fink Up!

There's yet another man permanently (we think) out of Brit Spears' life, and you just might be surprised by this one. Plus, Oprah reaction to her dubious TV outing, we gotta job for Tommy Cruise, and Ellen Page guzzle-guzzles—such hedonistic fun for all!

It’s about time, no? Finally, the attention-seeking Dr. Phil has been extracted—no thanks to horror mom Lynne Spears—from Britney’s increasingly deranged world. “Dr. Phil is out of Britney’s life,” revealed a source close to all the insanity going on in that gal’s hardly sane existence. “Probably for good,” added the Spears insider.

Shucks. And mamacita Spears was trying so very, very hard to get the dubious doc to help her firstborn (as we first reported here in AT ages ago). And ain't that a kick in the toxic parts? Getting a mental fixer-upper for the kid you helped get wacko in the first place by denying her anything remotely close to a normal, nurturing childhood. But whatev. Moving on...

I think it’s a safe bet here, babycakes, to say dad Jamie got that blowhard TV doc kicked outta the pic. The less visible this chick’s healing is, the better. In other words, any TV-staged interactions—or interventions—of any kind ain’t gonna work. Of course, don’t think bupkes is going to work—whether promoted or not—unless Britney herself wants it. All the girl desires now is to fall further into oblivion. But isn’t it so sweet how she has remembered she’s a mother with those recent visits? And thus, B wants to take those kids deeper into her private hell? So thoughtful! Like mama, like offspring, eh?

Can’t wait to see the book Ms. S’ two little boys write about that poor bitch one day. It’ll make Mommie Dearest seem like a friggin’ fairy tale.

Oh, sister! Oprah called. Or, to be precise, Camp Oprah, in the form of her publicity team, gave us a little ringy. We had called up inquiring about the eviscerating reviews of Ms. O’s latest small-screen effort, Oprah’s the Big Give (on which she’s hardly big presence-wise). Here goes:

How do you feel about the poor reception of the show?
The reviews have been mostly positive. We’re all very proud of the show.

They have? Does Oprah read her reviews?
She’s not available for an interview. You’d have to ask her.

Will Oprah be seen more on upcoming episodes?
I don’t want to give those surprises away. But Oprah will be making special appearances throughout the show.

Can’t wait!  Any changes to the show planned in regard to the early reception? 
The show is shot. We've completed production.

Bummer. For the record, O’s peeps refused to take any questions whatsoever on Mr. O (as in Barack, fools, not Stedman, of course). Shame. Wanted to know if O’s got dibs on the Lincoln or Queen's Bedroom. My vote's with Abe, you?

Dear 20th Century Fox Execs, 

First off, perhaps you shouldn’t leave internal memos lying around while you spend your business lunches stuffing your faces full of pastrami and chicken-liver sandwiches—lest they find their way to some prying eyes here at the AT. Good for you, the disregarded reports didn’t divulge which exec’s head is next on the chopping block, but it did reveal a little exclusive goss, and we never say non, merci to that.

The folks at Fox are crossing their fingers for another animated franchise à la Ice Age, and it looks like they’re putting all their cartoon cash behind the age-old myth of King Midas, ya know, the one who turned everything to gold. He’s like the original Timbaland, but with actual gold—we ain’t talkin’ blinged-out grills and platinum records. The feature’s still in its first trimester, so no overpowering celebrity voices have yet to be cast. Guess it’s up to us to fill in the blanks till the project’s properly announced. Who do ya think would be the perfect match to voice the greedy royal? Last I checked, Kanye West knew a thing or two (or 12) about self-indulgence. Or maybe they should just switch it to Queen Midas and have Cate Blanchett score some nods for that royal turn as well?

We’re pitching Tom Cruise, 'cause he needs a career makeover more than anyone else. ‘Member how every movie he touched used to turn into $100 million gold? The once T-town superpower wishes he could reclaim his throne atop of the box office, trust. Plus, Tommy’s face ain’t exactly camera-ready anymore. Maybe some voice-over work could do him some good—long as he loses that maniacal laugh of his, shudder.

P.S.: While we’re writin’ to ya, Foxy execs, enough with the American Idol promos. We’re watching it, par-tick now that stripper David Hernandez's nudie past is out! We can’t watch it any more than we’ve been watching it. Did the Super Bowl have to be an Idol ad from start to finish?

David Spade, looking for lingerie with a similarly sized, fair-haired female at the Victoria’s Secret in WeHo’s sophisticated shopping complex, the Beverly Center. Spadey-poo was scruffy and wore a hat, though we’re scratchin’ our collective heads wondering why the dude wanted to be inconspicuous while accompanied by such a hot blonde. D.S. bought the lovely lady some even lovelier under-things (what else would a sugar daddy do?), but when he handed over his credit card, the cashier asked to see some ID. Guess the gals at Vicky’s aren’t Just Shoot Me fans...But seriously, who is? Dave scoffed at the snub, and the cashier apologized for not knowing who he was. His reply? “It’s cool, it’s nothing to be sorry for.” Hey, at least he’s got his B-list fame in perspective. Bet the blonde he’s with didn’t. Up the Hollywood hills without a paddle was...

Rumer Willis, hitting the Hollywood streets, swinging by indie music scene Safari Sam’s on Friday night. Rume got all hipster-goth in the dim dive, donning a black jacket, black leggings and black stilettos. Girl’s so pasty to begin with, you’d think she’d want to explore some color sometime, no? Not to mention it’s terribly tough to mosh in heels, hon. Our star searcher claimed the usually chin-up cherub looked more Demi than Bruce, with her supershort pixie cut, just like her mama in Ghost. Guess now we know they make our snoop's drinky-poos extra strong at Safari Sam’s. Hopefully abstaining from alcohol in the afternoon was...

Mischa Barton, looking all sorts of frazzled while fooding it up with friends in Old Town Pasadena. The three chums chowed down on some Italian eats midday at Mi Piace—well, M.B.’s buds did, at least, while M-Bart kept her mouth and hands busy smooching and petting her adorable little pup who felt quite at home on her lap. Mi-Mi kept the animal theme alive while brazenly wearing a bizarre long-sleeved cheetah-print muumuu—so many hyphens, so little time. She finished off the ensemble with an unkempt coif of yellow hair paired with some revealing brunette regrowth on top. Did we mention Misch was walking around without shoes on? Bare feet are so Britney circa 2004. The DUI dollface had just returned from Germany, so maybe it was the jetlag that convinced her to wear such freakish fashion in public. Actually eating across town was...

Joan Rivers, gobbling and gabbing with daughter Melissa while dining at Santa Monica’s sophisticated seafood spot Ocean. The former E! Fashion Policewoman, whose face is prolly as fresh as the fish she was eating, was all smiles while celebrating the success of her new autobiographical play, Joan Rivers: A Work in Progress by a Life in Progress. The show’s getting semirave reviews from Hell-Ay theatergoers, though I can’t figure out who in the hell likes live theater in L.A., unless it’s inside a strip joint? Either way, looks like the sassy stand-up may be able to afford a few more facelifts in her lifetime, for sure. Something tells me that carved-up route will hardly ever be the puss-choice for Oscar nominee and SNL host...

Ellen Page, along with Wilco, wearing jeans and celebrating their big SNL gig at the after-party, Sapa, InWhySee. Catherine Keener, John Krasinski, Rashida Jones and Juno dude Jason Reitman all helped Ms. P, a decent drinker by her own accord, destroy a few bottles of Veuve Clicquot—not to mention some sliders with fries. Ah, to be 21 again. All the booze ‘n’ grease you want! (Oh, please. Don’t ever want to go there again, trust.)