“Last year, when no one understood what I was saying, and even though I’ve never been drunk in my life, I’m accused of filling my Coca-Cola cup with alcohol. Yeah, that was really fun for me.”

First off, Paula, way to remember to plug Coca-Cola even in the midst of a conversation about your alcoholism. You’re a real pro.

Also, dear, if I were you, I’d cop to the drinking. Because if you’re claiming you gave an interview like this sober, well, you leave the rest of us no choice but to assume you are functionally retarded. Come on, Paula? How about some information, please?

Straight up now, tell me, you don’t really wanna drug yourself forever?

Oh oh oh….

Or you slur your speech ‘cuz you hurt your tongue?

Straight up now, tell me, that you never touch booze or weed, not ever?

Oh oh oh…

Are you really just that dumb?

Lohan’s ex-boyfriend, Harry Morton, is rumored to be sober, and I’m sure Lindsay had some exposure to twelve-step programs during her relationship with him. Such chips are also sometimes given as “hope chips,” to people with fewer than ninety days sober, to encourage them to reach that goal. At least we now know that Lindsay has heard of AA. You have to start somewhere.

Whatever Richie was ingesting that night (we’ve ruled out food) didn’t sit well with her, because she passed out at Hollywood club Hyde around 2 am on Sunday. The club manager wanted to call an ambulance, but Richie’s friends insisted they would take her to a hospital themselves, carrying the celebutante out the back door.

Lohan didn’t fare much better. She was spotted sitting in her car at 6:45 Sunday morning, convinced that the paparazzi tailing her were trying to hit her car. She seemed “out of it” and looked as though she’d been crying. My guess is she wasn’t driving to an early-morning mass after a good night’s sleep.

All this comes as News of the World releases an exclusive interview with Lohan, in which she talks about her battle with anorexia and bulimia. She discusses a night in 2004, where she feared for her life at the house of then-boyfriend Wilmer Valderrama. “I felt so sick,” she said. “I lay down on the bed and started getting these shooting pains. I was screaming, throwing things, because the pains were so intense in my head.” Regarding ex-boyfriend Harry Morton: “I have only been in love once and that was with Wilmer.” Ouch.

Joking aside, I hope Nicole and Lindsay become willing to take the actions they need to get healthy again. Come on, girls! Look at Courtney Love. You can still do strange, obnoxious, publicity-generating things — and we’ll still make fun of you — just do them sober.

The latest stop on Nick’s “Fuck Paris Hilton/Watch My TV Show” tour is Britain’s News of the World, where Carter states that Paris “was a drunken prude who as far as I can see did not really like sex. She relied on drugs and drinks to give her confidence in the bedroom and was more often than not too wasted to even perform. I lost count of the nights I had to pick her off the floor and drag her to bed passed out.”

He accuses Hilton of smuggling drugs overseas, stating that “if she was going overseas, she’d cut a hole in her teddy and stuff it with cannabis. She had to have her own private stash with her at all times regardless of the consequences.”

Continues Carter: “The only thing that made her happy was her own reflection. She spends so much time looking at herself in the mirror telling herself how gorgeous she is.”

Keep it up, Nick. We’re digging it now.

[via Horny Oyster]

I was so excited to run this with the headline “George Michael’s Double Whammy,” but E! Online got to it first. Damn.

I’d rather not be so harsh as to say “George Michael was found intoxicated and passed out at the wheel of his car for the second time in eight months.” Instead, let’s look at it as “George Michael was found intoxicated and passed out at the wheel of his car for the first time since February!” Because eight months is an admirable length of time to stay conscious at the wheel when you drink and drive like he does. Michael was arrested early Sunday morning in London on suspicion of drug possession, after being awoken, of course.

His partner, Kenny Goss, said “He’s fine and I’ve got him a McDonalds,” from which we can conclude only that Goss himself was still drunk at the time of the interview. Best of luck to Michael and Goss, and to the entire city of London. And, E! Online, I call dibs on the “Triple Whammy” headline in May.

(Hey Tiffy — it’s not quite the coke arrest we were hoping for, but I think we can say our prayers were answered.)

Update: I thought about this more, and the only CMA/AA meetings on a Wednesday (when these photos were taken) end at 8 pm, and there’s no way it was this bright out at 8 pm this late in September. I live in this city. Still, the WHRC is most definitely a 12-step center.

• God bless the British press. They’ve got a pic of cocaine in its natural habitat — the inside of Kate Moss’s nose.
• If the standard blow-up doll isn’t doing the trick anymore, you can bid on an actual Fembot on eBay.
• Nick Carter: “Paris Hilton is a psychotic evil whore blah blah blah blah hey by the way I have a television show coming out.”
• Jamie Pressly gets engaged and Kate Hudson files for divorce.
• Do you want a George W. Bush butt plug? Perhaps for use in conjunction with your Fembot? Okay, okay. Just promise you’ll think about it.
• ABC’s website has a clip of the Terri Irwin interview that will air on 20/20 tonight.
• I can’t believe I am linking to Perez Hilton just because I agree with his taste, but I am. Regina Spektor rocks, and when you’re done listening to the new Killers album, you should check her out.
• Lost star Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje ayddibug ukilolopoti yi Abptu daka-daka shrekpiti.

The beverage, targeted at party-goers (really? why?), is supposedly 3.5x stronger than Red Bull (its inventor, Jamey Kirby, says it is “350 percent stronger,” because, you know, that sounds like more), and — get this — has a secret ingredient to imitate the mouth- and throat-numbing properties of actual cocaine.

Their website looks pretty low-budg, which is fine, because you don’t really need a complicated marketing strategy when you’ve named your product after the hippest life-destroying addictive illegal drug on the market. You know everyone at Hansens is slapping their foreheads this week. “Fuck, dude, what were we thinking? Monster? Shit.”

I think we’re seeing a resurgence in the marketing-by-controversy approach, between this and Survivor: Racist. I hold Ann Coulter single-handedly responsible.