Vince Vaughn is really, really pissed he got caught making out with a homely blonde in London last week. The actor plans to take legal action against the British tabloids the Sun and the Daily Mirror, as well as against the New York Post for suggesting that he and Aniston had split, or that he had cheated on her.

On Wednesday’s Oprah, Aniston reiterated that all was well in paradise — she and Vince were still together, and she is still so totally over that Brad Pitt guy.

Is this really what it takes to get these two to admit they were even together in the first place?

• Is Natalie Portman dating British billionaire Nat Rotschild? Say it ain’t so!
• Mary-Kate Olsen is totally her new boyfriend’s Mini Me.
• While taping Oprah on Wednesday, Jennfer Aniston claims she and Vince Vaughn have not broken up, but also notes that they’re not engaged. Um, did anyone mention to Ms. Aniston that there are pictures of the man she’s not broken up with making out with a woman who’s not her floating all over the Internet?
• I’d be excited to run into Counting Crows’ Adam Duritz pretty much anywhere, with the exception being on my boyfriend’s back. (In tattoo form.)
• I haven’t written much (read: anything) about the YouTube channel Diddy started with Burger King; while I consider myself Web 2.0-savvy, I have to admit, I just don’t understand how it could possibly work. I feel a little better about that, now, because neither does most of the country.
• Premiere Magazine lists The 50 Biggest Hollywood Disasters, for your trainwreck-viewing pleasure.

Seriously, The Sun is on fire. (Har har har). Now if only they could find a copy-editor who knows how to spell “theater.”

• Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston broke up over the phone.
• Madonna selects an African child to adopt with the same obsessive attention to detail and God complex that make her live performances such extraordinary spectacles.

• Mischa Barton and Nicole Richie are dunzo. Barton says Richie’s “fickle,” by which she of course means “starving.”

• Having properly atoned for a year of sins on Yom Kippur, Mel Gibson’s drinking again.
• Ashlee Simpson denies hooking up with Nick Carter while he was with Paris Hilton, using her own special brand of eloquence: “No! That is so random. When I heard that, I was dying laughing.”

Don’t get me wrong: I’m still mad at Brad Pitt. When he walked out on Jennifer Aniston, I felt like he took all my fairytale-marriage-to-Brad-Pitt dreams along with him. You’d think they would have evaporated when he married Jennifer Aniston, and, consequently, not me, but somehow they persisted still. Like I could have my fairytale marriage to Brad Pitt through Rachel Green. I soaked up every minute of our power-couple union. What kind of person operates in such a distorted, delusional reality? I’ll tell you: it’s the same kind of person who writes a celebrity gossip blog.

So when he left us for that whorecake of a U.N. Goodwill Ambassador (that’s not even a real ambassador, I’ll have you know), I was pissed. It was totally uncool. I felt jilted, betrayed. I was mad at him.

Then he shows up on the cover of Esquire looking ridiculously hot and broody, and what does he say about his relationship with Captain Whorebreath?

“Angie and I will consider tying the knot when everyone else in the country who wants to be married is legally able.”

And when you set aside the fact that Brad Pitt just boldly advocated polygamy and child brides to a well-respected men’s publication, it’s really a very nice sentiment, and I may take his photo off my dartboard, just for this week.

Am I the only writer in the blogosphere more interested in the “Simpsons Strike Back at Dad” headline? Images of Jessica and Ashlee in super-cute guerilla gear, storming the Joe Simpson compound with M-16s and grenades, demanding the prompt return of their innocence, reputations, original noses, and chances of ever having a healthy relationship with a man?

But, alas, the blogosphere is abuzz with this news; it’s likely that the only person on the planet more apathetic than I toward the looming Vaughniston alliance is Brad Pitt.

Hey, Brad, if you’re reading this, you should totally come over tonight. We don’t have to do this alone. We can wade through our Vaughniston ennui hand-in-hand. I have whipped cream and a cat you can call Maddox. Just say you’ll think about it.

Update: Jen’s rep says it’s not true. You know, this is really the bloggers’ fault. If we would only buzz about Us Weekly every day enthusiastically no matter what forever and ever amen, they wouldn’t have to do this sort of thing to us. Jesus. Now wash up the blood, sweetie, and start dinner. That’s a good girl.

Brad: I still have the whipped cream and the cat. Let’s not allow this shocking turn of events to spoil our dreams. Call me.