So I’m being a generally pathetic human being today, ingesting the sweet, sweet liquor of E!’s High Maintenance 90210, when I recognize one of the high-profile clients. I just can’t place how. Her name is Allison Pearson. I watch her. I know her. I recognize the obnoxious face, the inane laughter, the vapid expressions. Did I go to high school with her? Hm. No. Did we date the same guy? Seems likely. But no. Did I throw a drink at her at a bar? Wishful thinking. How do I know this girl?

I Google her, and the geniuses at Pop Culture Whore come to my rescue. She’s that nauseating girl from True Life: I’m Getting Plastic Surgery, which aired on MTV six years ago. Allison was nineteen back then, and whoring around with her BFF Rachael, alternating their waking hours between laying in tanning beds and getting plastic surgery. Her goal in life was to be in Playboy, or at least to get into parties at the Playboy Mansion. I laughed at her them, and hoped that within a year she’d be back home in Ohio or wherever, her spirit irreparably broken.

So what the fuck? Now this bitch is married to some successful music producer and spending $20K on necklaces? These things are not supposed to happen to bad people like her! She contributes absolutely zero value to this world. You know what? Let me amend that. She contributes negative value to society. She can’t even organize her own closet. She spends all day drinking with her personal assistant. So not only is she failing to contribute to our planet, she is sucking any potential value-added behavior from another human being. I’ll admit that terrorism is to be frowned upon, but Allison Pearson is what’s wrong with the world.

In happier news, she’s totally put on ten or fifteen pounds since the MTV taping, and she looks a little big around the hips. Yeeeee!

Those folks who took over Paris Hilton’s storage locker when she forgot to pay the monthly fee on it have finally released the info they found within. Among it: pictures of Paris smoking a tampon. [Gawker]

Rose McGowan’s looking a little ragged these days. [popbytes]

Jen Aniston’s rep is just plain tired of lying. He admits his client had a nose job this weekend. [The Superficial]

Singer Brandy was the cause of a disturbing Los Angeles wreck. No, not Moesha. [Bossip]

Look, I tried, but I can’t beat Seth and Mark on this, so I’m just going to steal their headline: ABC Sends Isaiah Washington to Gayhab. [Defamer]

Clearly the most effective way to get your estranged wife to seek help for her drinking problem is to whine about it to Star magazine. Right, K-Fed? [IBBB]

Hugh Hefner takes time out of his busy day to call Kelly Osbourne ugly. [Agent Bedhead]

So for some odd reason I have about three friends that know this dance by heart. It is white boy soul. White boys that are dancing to the beat of the “man.” Oh ya. Shake it.

AH HA HA HA HA HA! Okay, I wasn’t even going to run this story, and then I thought up that headline, and I was just pleased as punch with it. So here goes:

According to TMZ, Rachel Ray, whose fascinating cooking show was eventually introduced to daytime TV by Oprah, had some disparaging remarks for the talk show queen during a December 2005 dinner. Ray, after throwing back several glasses of wine, reportedly mentioned a still from Beloved that hangs in the Harpo Productions office, showing Oprah in a skirt from the slavery era and with scars on her back. “Why is she wearing slave drag?” commented Ray. “She obviously has problems being black.” What does that even mean? Like, I understand that it’s not a very nice thing to say, but I don’t understand how you get from Oprah in a slave skirt to the “obvious” conclusion that she “has problems being black.” But I can’t say this is the first time something about Rachel Ray didn’t make any sense to me. There are plenty of other mystifying things about her. Like how she’s famous. And why no one’s shot her. Rachel also allegedly called Brad Pitt a “pussy” and Angelina Jolie a “skanky, backdoor cunt,” and she’s totally right on both counts. Two out of three ain’t bad, Rach.

Ray’s camp denies that she made any of those comments, of course, and, unless someone has this on tape, it’s pretty much destined to become a non-story, because I trust Rachel has enough sense not to repeat it in a press conference, Isaiah-style.

I was so excited for Tuesday. On January 23, Anna Nicole Smith was supposed to bring her new baby, Dannielynn (okay, if I can’t ever spell this name right on the first try, how does Anna Nicole even have a chance?), in for paternity testing, per a court order. Larry Birkhead, Smith’s former paramour, had asked for the test, contesting Anna’s claim that the girl’s father is Anna’s lawyer, super-stud Howard K. Stern. Birkhead claims the baby is his.

However, it turns out that Anna Nicole’s crack legal team has potency outside of the reproductive arena. They were able to convince an L.A. judge to stay the order, citing something about how the case was never tried in the Bahamas (pay no attention to anything about the legal aspects of this case I may mention — I have no idea what I’m talking about). So, alas, this is not the week we all get to hear Anna Nicole’s explanation of how exactly she could be so completely wrong about who fathered her child.

But never fear! We will not be completely without Anna’s unique brand of articulate. TMZ obtained a private AOL Instant Messenger convo between Anna and Larry Birkhead. This is possible because TMZ employs some of the most talented Internet hackers on the planet — namely, Larry Birkhead (handle: N0 tr0jAn). Here’s the text of the convo, which led me to actually pray that this child’s father is Howard K. Stern, because at least he had a strong enough grasp on verb conjugation to get through law school.

Anna Nicole: quit trash me at the casino
Larry: not at a casino
Anna Nicole: go fuck my mom to
Anna Nicole: Yall are sick
Larry: show up for the test with the baby\
Anna Nicole: don’t think so
Anna Nicole: u wish
Larry: everybody just want u to do right thing is all
Anna Nicole: in your dreams

Here at The Beet, we just wishes for there be resolushun in this matter before Danilyn be’s old enuf to understand what go on around her.

For some reason I like Mandy Moore. Does that make me a housewife from Peoria? Perhaps. So when I saw this story over at the little startup site (CNN) I was troubled. Not so troubled that I went out and punched an old person or anything; but concerned enough that I’m putting this out in the blogosphere so that if anyone knows Mandy they can tell her Lars is pulling for her and if need be will snuggle.

What I’m talking about here is that Mandy said:

“A few months ago I felt really low, really sad. Depressed for no reason.”

She goes on to mention how her break-up with Zach Braff (the original Seth Cohen) and tennis semi-okay star Andy Roddick left her feeling blue. Luckily, in the grand tradition of Hollywood she’s fine now, probably because she ate seaweed or just figured out that “being fun is more fun.” Whatever the case she’s writing a new album and she’s apologetic about her past run-ins with musical creativity.

“I feel bad that people wasted their money on such trite, blah pop music,” says Moore about her earlier music.

Hey current Mandy, go easy on past Mandy, I like them both. Plus I’d never buy your music, so no hard feelings either way. Also, when there was one set of footprints that was when I carried you.