Blind Vice Friday reveals—almost—which megasuccessful star is cleaning up her habit, just so she can go right back out and shoot up again! Hideous! Almost as much Wilmer Valderrama's apparent new career. Plus, Jennifer Hudson's Sex lessons are de-lish!
“Myself."
—Terrence Howard when we asked him whom he was most looking forward to seeing at the BET awards
The Hustle & Flow fella wore a pastel blue suit jacket over all white, complete with a superfluous cane and his ever-present ego. A few moments went by before T.H. finally changed his answer. “I’m just kidding...Jennifer Hudson.” Nice recovery, Terry. Too bad it’s the worst lie we’ve heard since Britney said she’s over Justin.
Ter-hon’s Dreamgirl was just around the corner at the Shrine, looking fab in a spicy new minibob and a supertight, brown, bod-fitting frock. “After being in a movie like [Sex and the City], which is all about fashion, you can’t help but step your game up,” enthused Jen-babe. Maybe the movie shoulda come out before J-Hud wore that ridiculous silver shrug at the Oscars? Gal coulda been saved.
Nelly kept it casual in jeans and a black tee (which he more than happily removed later backstage to expose his gleamin’ abs), shielding his eyes with some shades while strutting on the carpet far more successfully than Ms. H could hope to accomplish. Hmmm, was it the superbright sun overhead or a fab way to mask a hangover? We asked the rapper what the line is between partying like a rap star and needing to go to rehab. “Luckily I’ve never had to go to rehab for anything, don’t think I ever will,” smirked Nel. “It’s all based around the DJ. If the DJ’s rockin’, it could be off the chain.” Good thing we don’t think Samantha Ronson's all that great at the turntables, looks like Lindsay's safe from another round of rehab for now.
Now, Jordin Sparks ain’t exactly the rock-star type. Chalk it up to Jordy being only 18, tho that hasn’t stopped her party-hopping H’wood peers. “I don’t really go to parties or anything. After this, I’m going home and sleeping...maybe get some Pinkberry and sleep.” Even celebs are addicted to the low-cal pseudoyogurt treat that had Hell-Ay in a dizzy tizzy, so absurd. I think heroin’s healthier, slight exaggeration, must admit. Seriously, Sparkie, sleep and fat-free treats? Guess that squeaky-clean image she had on Idol wasn’t all for show. But we still suspect David Archuleta of secretly being into S&M; you know nobody’s that saintly. Another slight exaggeration...Calm down you E! legal eagles.
Usher didn’t win any awards near downtown Hell-Ay, but the hip-hop singer has tons more to celebrate nowadays than scoring trophies. Ush-babe blabbed, “Having a child is by far one of the greatest complements to my life. I’m very proud to pass on my name.” Aw, cute. I could puke, but cute. And how does he keep his marriage strong despite breakup rumors, like the one that got him all riled up on TRL? “The less arguments, the better.” With your wife, we’re assuming he’s saying. He’s got no problem getting into fights with gossipmongers spreading split-up stories to their hearts' content.
Wonder if Ben Affleck’s next on that short-fuse list.
We sorta had higher hopes for Wilmer Valderrama back in the day. The guy was good-lookin’ and could even hold his own against more obvious hunk choice Ashton Kutcher on That '70s Show. Then he hooked up with Lindsay Lohan before she became the H’wood byword, and we were pretty sure W.V. was working his way up the T-town ranks a crazed, overly protected social scenster.
A-list, not so much, although the boy’s still making his rounds like anybody’s there. Valder-guy hit Sin City’s Wet Republic, the supercool pool celeb spot at the MGM Grand. Guess all the strip joints and blackjack tables couldn’t do the trick for this party boy...that or the sun was just too much to handle, since the already bronzed hon spent all weekend poolside, buried in a bungalow.
And not for the babes in bikinis, tho they were prolly icing on the bodyguarded cake. Wils actually acted as a witness to a marriage that happened at the wait-listing water hole. A couple W.V. is buds with got hitched, with Willmy and all the other swimmers and tanners in the joint standing by for the ceremony. Valder-hon spoke some sweet stuff, and after the couple did their I dos and dove in for a kiss, most half-naked folk applauded and took a shot of Patrón. OK, so it’s not so traditional, but what do ya expect in Vegas? Still 10 times classier than Britney's first wedding.
Cute stuff, Wilmer. Now forgive us if we’re way off, but didn’t you used to act? Are you planning on giving it all up to become a wedding officiator, à la Tori Spellling? Hitched By a Hottie, is that your new gig over at Oxygen? Plus, you club, doll-babe, like nobody’s biz. What have you morphed into, the male Tara Reid with a little love guru stuff thrown in for mushy measure?
Dr. Phil, getting down at the George Michael concert in Hell-Ay with his wife-unit, Robin. Phil and the wifey were escorted to front row seats at the Forum—had no idea the TV doc was so into '80s pop. McGraw donned jeans and a white oxford shirt—we totally woulda expected him to bring out the bling and Wham-style duds and break loose, but most rockin' out the dude did was high-fiving the concertgoers standing 'round him. Philly stood mostly still, while Rob-hon danced by his side, carrying a huge, tacky gold lamé—or do we mean lame?—bag, which was still not big enough to hide her shame. Par-tick when Georgy M called Dr. P out, saying, “he really should see someone about that.” Maybe Britney can recommend a shrink? Boppin' just as dubiously was...
Bruce Willis, taking in some tunes at the Radio Music City Hall. B.W. was checking out the sold-out Cure show, wearing jeans, a tan tee, a hat and white sneakers. Not exactly attire one would connect to goth '80s rockers, but to each his own. Bruce-babe, who our New Yawk source swears looks as young and fab as his Moonlighting days (is she on crack?), left his orchestra section seats and picked up a bunch of beers at the lobby bar. While there, Mr. W had an exchange with a female fan, or perhaps a former fan, as the woman called him “an asshole” loud enough for everybody to hear. Don’t piss off a Robert Smith fan, Willy. Sitting back with some more relaxing song selections was...
Minnie Driver, being all mellow with the music. Greek Theater, Hell-Ay. M.D. dug it with Robert Plant and Alison Krauss while wearing a black, sleeveless dress and draping a purple pashmina scarf when the sizzling sun went down and it got all chilly—like 70 degrees, a cold front nowadays in T-town. Ms. Min was accompanied by a blond guy and one other couple—could this mystery dude be the daddy of Drive-hon’s about-to-pop kid? Ya never know with this super hush-hush Brit, intent on being all ladylike with any info whatsoever, deftly knowing it’ll bring her far more attention than any silly People cover could ever do. At a concert, but as the entertainment as opposed to an onlooker was...
Rihanna, at Guesthouse nightclub in New Yawk, celebrating the re-release of her megahit album Good Girl Gone Bad—ya know, for the four or so people who haven’t picked it up yet. RiRi, wearing a short navy dress and some serious gold bling, performed on stage for half the night, obviously not one to take a night off. After her set of saucy moves, R-babe jumped in the DJ booth where DJ Reach was spinning, dancing all night long. Ri-hon, who's still a minor, believe it or not, wasn’t seen sipping any cocktails, good girl. Instead she kept her hands busy texting all night long. Could it be to alleged beau-friend Chris Brown? Either way, texting can be a more serious addiction than alcohol, espesh to teens, trust.
Fake à la Ferocity returns, and she'll be revisiting our Blind Vice annals often, me thinks, as the movie-star gal knows how to turn off her majorly addictive desires about as well as she knows how to get as high as Amy Winehouse's hair, not to mention boink whomever she damn pleases. I mean, we have one anally retentive train wreck here, babes. Read on...