Total hotties Josh Brolin and Javier Bardem goof around on the red carpet at the 17th Annual Gotham Awards in Brooklyn.

Hey, Josh, why don’t you take that award off your knee and toss me over it instead? You can spank me all you want, baby.

Sorry for the gay headline.

I couldn’t resist.

Plus, this story is so boring. I wanted to add some flair.

Usher’s wife, Tameka Foster, popped out their kid on Monday night.

Usher Raymond V was born in Atlanta, Ga. at 9:55 p.m., and weighed in at 7 lbs. 9 oz., according to the statement.

And please don’t be retarded like me and be all like, “His last name is V? How random is that? Why not give him a normal last name? Like your last name? Freakazoid.”

Because then I realized that it’s V like 5. Like he’s the fifth. I’m not sure if the problem is that I’m still sick or the problem is that I’m still dumb. Or both.

“When I found out that I was pregnant, there was just something inside of me that felt a responsibility to mend any issues that I’ve had with my parents in the past, because, listen, I’ve put them through a lot.”

Nicole Richie, to Access Hollywood.

Nicole adds that she doesn’t know the sex of the baby, mostly at the request of Joel Madden. “If he wasn’t at every doctor’s appointment, I probably would have found out by now just behind his back and not told him,” she says.

Did you miss the announcement of the winners? Watch it here!

And check out Helio and Julianne’s final dance number.

The driver Britney Spears hired has quit, claiming that driving Britney is a liability.

Sorry posting was slow/non-existent today, guys. I’m really sick. Hopefully tomorrow things will be better and all will be back to normal.

Bitch canceled the rest of her tour. She just can’t handle it, she says, with her hubby in the slammer.

“I can’t give it my all onstage without my Blake. I’m so sorry but I don’t want to do the shows half-heartedly. I love singing. My husband is everything to me and without him it’s just not the same.”

Maybe it’s just not the same to you, but it’s the same to your fans, bitch. You have an obligation to them.

Amy, this has nothing to do with Blake. It has to do with your addiction. You’ve been high as a kite at your past few shows, almost incoherent. You cannot stay sober for a goddamn second with all this stress in your life. That’s the problem.

Go to rehab, bitch.

So last night started out like any other night. We were cooking BBQ in my friend’s backyard, the boys were watching football, I was coughing violently and persistently (I am very sick today, kids, so consider it an expression of my love for you that I am conscious and writing), and we were generally acting like very cool people.

And then my friend starts talking on one of those wireless Bluetooth headsets and the other guys are like, “Oh, man, he’s gone over to the dark side.”

And I mention that with that piece in his ear he looks like those Star Trek aliens that are all like “Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated,” and I’m like, “What was the name of those aliens???” And no one can remember, but my friend with the earpiece is like, “I never watched the ones with Captain Picard. He’s really more of a politician than a leader.”

And I’m like, “What the fuck? How can you say that about Picard? He is the ultimate leader.”

And he’s like, “No, Kirk was a leader,” and I’m like, “Um, no, Kirk was a pussy.”

And this continues for some time until we have to abandon the notion that we are, in any way, the cool kids.

I love me some Jean-Luc.

At the Evening Standard Theatre Awards in London.

Things looked hopeful last night, but Washington Redskins defensive back Sean Taylor did not make it through to morning.

He passed away early Tuesday morning.

He was shot in the groin in his home early Monday morning. The blood loss proved to be too severe, it seems.

I’m sure details will trickle out in time.