Lindsay Lohan accepts an award at the Capri Film Festival.

OMG.

Why?????

Paris Hilton and K-Fed party the night away at PURE in Las Vegas.

What is Britney going to do to retaliate for this????

BRING ON THE CRAZY!!!!

The America’s Next Top Model winner showed up at the Grand Opening of Jay-Z’s 40/40 Club At The Palazzo Hotel in Vegas last night.

She looks like she’s going to prom!

Pregnant!!!

This is NOT a fat girl. This is a baaaaaaad dress.

Also there: Beyonce Knowles, wearing those shoes that are all the rage lately. They make me want to die. It looks like she broke her foot, and this is the fancy high-tech cast they made for her.

Dude.

I don’t give a fuck. I might care if this Rhys Ifans dude was hot, but he looks like he just stepped off the set of a Tim Burton film. Where he’d been shooting heroin between takes. In a bathtub. With a blow-dryer. While eating human brains.

I could go on if you want.

Anyway, Sienna hasn’t announced it, but the photo agencies seem pretty sure of it. They keep running these photos lately like, “Sienna Miller and fiance Rhys Ifans” blah blah blah blah.

Jesus, guys, can you believe this dude gets to put his penis in Sienna Miller and you don’t?

These have been around for a couple days, but, tragically, I suck at my job, so I’ve just now stumbled upon them.

Man, she looks like she had a rough night.

I almost feel bad for her. But then I think of what a happy day I had when I checked my email and learned that Mischa Barton had scored herself a DUI. Seriously, I got jack shit for Christmas this year. My dad wrote me a check and my mom puts about the same effort into Christmas as she does into Arbor Day, so the Mischa Barton DUI was like the pony I never got. (Note to parents for future: the pony should be pink and it should sing.) So then I think of my happiness and then I’m not sad for Mischa anymore. There’s a term for that. I think it’s “schadenfreude.” Webster’s defines it as “satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else’s misfortune.”

That’s cool, Websters. You call it “schadenfreude.” I call it “what I do for a living.”

I’ve been listening to this song all week. It just gets stuck in my damn head, and I start to crave it. It is possible I have an addictive personality.

Leona Lewis won the most recent season of Britain’s Pop Idol, and this is her debut single.

Also: does anyone know where I can find a video of Liz Phair’s “H.W.C.”? I’m obsessing over that song lately, too, and I want to run it on here, but I can’t find a damn video with the song in it.

Miley.

We’ve talked about this.

I need you drinking.

You sure as hell better be stuffing baggies of cocaine up that dog’s asshole so you can take them on the airplane. Otherwise I’m gonna give you a serious whooping.

If you’re gonna stick around, sweetie, you need to get interesting. This Hannah Montana shit is only gonna take you so far.

Image via Splash

He looks sad. And drunk. And gross.

Maybe Cheetos will cheer him up. Or a bacon cheeseburger. Or an entire cheesecake. Or whatever the hell he’s been cramming down his throat since he used to be hot.

Seriously, who’s casting serial killers these days? They need to get Vince Vaughn’s agent on the line. Because while I used to look at Vince Vaughn and be like, “Gosh, I’d sure like to have sex with that man,” now I look at him and think, “Gosh, I sure hope he doesn’t kill me with a fork and then grind me up and eat me with a spoon.” Seriously. Homeboy looks creepy.

Image via WENN