The Awful Truth

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Billy-Ray Cyrus, visiting the vet with his pooch in Studio City. BRC wore designer jeans and a designer shirt, natch, what the hell did ya expect with all that Hannah Montana money? Goodwill threads? B.R.'s mutt had long black and brown hair, so very snuggable. Billy-R. asked another vetgoer, in his delicious Southern twang, what was wrong with her pup, so sweet. Our vet eyes kept thinking during their canine convo, "You're daughter is worth five jagillion dollars." She also mentioned he smelled real nice. That must be some strong cologne to smell it apart from all that dog in the joint. Also of the four-legged variety was...

Ben Affleck, lunching away at Shutters on the Beach in Santa Monica on a Monday afternoon. B.A. dressed casual, havin' a bro-to-bro brunch with a non-Damon dude, looking totally scruffy but still sexy said our snack-stuffing eyes. Question is, where were Jen and Violet? Not surprising, they were nowhere to be seen.

—With additional English-screwin' reporting by Becky Bain and Taryn Ryder

NBC Photo: Paul Drinkwater

Check out tomorrow's Truth, Lies & Ted for some great man crap the wannabe first lady pulled in college, babes. Great stuff. If you’ve never really trusted that bullet-proofed coifed blonde’s ways but just couldn’t put your finger on why, I’ve got scoop for you on how daddy’s little operator has been vroom-vrooming it for a long time.

And now I’m hearing yet more tattle-tale biz on the broad—and how she behaves around the opposite sex—from more recent, grown-up first-handers. Hubby J maybe isn’t the only questionable character in that union, after all. Not at all. Nervous, Cindy? You should be.

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Fret not Nick Lachey and Vanessa Minnillo fans—all five of ya. Those whispers that the squeaky duo are going through a rough patch are simply untrue, says a friend of the annoyingly perky couple. False, mind you!

'Nessa was seen out in New Yawk with a mystery dude this week while promoting her new flick Disaster Movie. (The fact alone that Van has resorted to paltry parody movies shows her career is in mucho more trouble than her relationship.) Howev, a pal tells us that the dark-haired dude—who's gay, so breathe easy—is a Survivor alum V.M. met through her mutual Survivor amigo. Goes to show ya: Reality-show stars who can't do better stick together.

Says a tattler (apologist is more like it) on Nick and Vanessa, they're "Just fine. They're completely in love." So what was with Man-hon's "friendly" dinner with former flame Orlando Bloom a couple of months ago? Or Nick's pics with all those college chicks at Matt Leinart's? Whatev, it's the 21st century, we're down with an open type of relaysh. What we have a bigger prob with is a couple who's completely devoid of personality, tho.

—With additional English-screwin' reporting by Becky Bain and Taryn Ryder

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Tilda Swinton, Frances McDormand, Brad Pitt and George Clooney are bookended by the Coen Brothers while promoting Burn After Reading at the Venice Film Festival. They all may be a part of the same flick, but they fer sure ain't sharing a similar fashion sense.

Joel and Ethan are behind-the-scenes director types, so we'll give their humdrum outfits a pass (tho ya think you could sport a tie or something when screening your movie?) Francie McD, howevs, looks like a schoolteacher at a liberal arts college in the '50s—that, or a World War II nurse. If only she had a nice retro 'do to match, but no, babe didn't even pack a comb in her carry-on.

Brad looks like a shiny pimp made out of limestone, and Cloonz could dress up as the Easter bunny and still look doable, that's never been his problem. Trouble is, the dull-colored suits are getting way boring, Georgie-Boy. We'd love to see ya sparkle with some hot pink hot pants for once. Take a fashion tip from slightly creepy and always kooky Tildy, who looks like she took a tumble in a sushi restaurant and had a bucket load of roe splashed on her shoulders.

This sextet is far from sexy, more so ridiculous standing next to one another. Prolly fits their quirkfest film down to a T.

—With additional English-screwin' reporting by Becky Bain

Getty Images, Flynetonline.com

It’s Michael Jackson’s big 5-0 this Friday, and we’re wondering what on earth to get the guy who has everything—besides a career, a good rep, a working schnoz and enough moola to keep Neverland Ranch open for business. We hope his legion of lawyers sends over a birthday bouquet, because they sure can afford it after all the cash they’ve made off their client over the last few decades.

M.J.’s big day comes right after another iconic pop star, Madonna, entered her golden years looking buff and bangin’, about to embark on another sold-out world tour. And right on the cusp of that alleged A-Rod romance! Madge still gets tangled up with would-be-lover rumors, 'cause people totally believe this sex siren can get all the guys drooling, even while turning 50.

Sorry, can’t say the same for Jacko—M.J. looked 50 (if not older) at least five records ago, so what’s the point in a throwing a party? Let’s just celebrate the fact the dude’s made it through an abusive childhood, being set on fire, an infinite amount of plastic surgery, even more trials and being married to Lisa Marie Presley—and he’s still kickin’.

That’s more drama than most people could handle in a lifetime, let alone just 50 years. We think it’ll be another half century before plastic surgery gets advanced enough to make him appear human again. In the meantime, Mike, can we gift ya another mask?

Oh, by the legal by, just checked in with the Los Angeles district attorney’s office. I thought maybe, just maybe, they’d have a little prezzie for you, like, perhaps another molestation charge or damning deposition (I’ve read plenty of them, trust). But alas, nope. The pissy legal eagles said no new M.J. kiddie trials or cases were currently on the calendar. Maybe for your 51st, darling?

—With additional English-screwin’ reporting by Becky Bain.

FAME PICTURES

Don't know if Paris and Benji's lunching habits are convincing anybody that they're just too, too still together (we'll reserve comment, just this once—don't get used to it). But look, just thought we should let you all know somebody's got it in for the musical Madden half that's supposedly all in love with the Bel-Air broad.

"He looks just like Uncle Fester," snipped a superclose hanger-on to the vertically and follicly challenged celebrity. But, darlings, what's really shocking is just how close this hangin' hon is to Mr. M. Think closer than my cat's ass to the clumping stuff.

Courtesy: LG Villa; Jordan Strauss / Getty Images

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B-day boy Brody Jenner flew down to Cabo San Lucas for his big 2-5, and it wasn't long after the plane took off that the shirt to come off as well.

B.J. ain't exactly high in our Do-Me Meter annals of brawndom, but we're as superficial as the rest: We'd do him—we just wouldn't cuddle afterward.

At least the guy knows it's his manly mug and pert pecs that keep his name in the news—that and his pretty reality pets like Lauren Conrad, who was also makin' the party rounds in Mexico. So, Brodes, what's the surfboard hiding there? Some shrinkage? Or something quite the opposite? Do tell.

—With additional English-screwin' reporting by Becky Bain

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Pam Anderson just makes it too easy—in a lot of ways, actually, but mostly in the cleavage department.

Is one supposed to start covering up more once one trudges through one's forties (not that I would know crap about that, at all)? Or is one better suited to start letting it all hang out before all the equipment simply drops to the floor?

Pam-poo's a tough call here. If she threw on a cowl-neck cashmere or a stiff-ass Chanel suit once in awhile, those poppin' babies would be all the more welcome once in a while. But 24-7 Stripperella wear? Doesn't it kinda machine-gun the mood? Sharon Stone, dare I pay the bitch a compliment, is genius at going back 'n' forth between the virgin-AARP-slut thing, and I must admit it works. At least for her sexuality, not her movies.

So try out a few virginal threads once in a while, P.A. You'll be amazed at how rehorned up we'll all feel, promise.

Jason LaVeris/Getty Images, Jean Baptiste Lacroix/Getty Images

There's no better place for a Beverly Hills 90210 bash than...Malibu? Wrong ZIP, but right piss-ass 'tude. Super egos and superficiality are never geographically specific. Our very own private eyeballs were, yes, on the scene in the 'Bu last weekend when the 90210 stars, new and old, came out to celebrate another year of H'wood running out of fresh ideas.

Unless you count an African-American kid joining the cast and some better hairstyles, that's about as updated as it gets.

Visions for nostalgic eyes included Shannen Doherty and Jennie Garth, both slated to star in the new season, 'course. Shan-doll donned a black dress with a plunging neck, a good wardrobe choice for someone either known for being a bitch or a witch (on Charmed, of course). Jen-hon, who never said no to any attendee desiring a pic with the Kelly Taylor, was rockin' her new Dancing With the Stars-trained bod, wearing a slinky black 'n' white strapless number with some serious stilettos.

Def the Aaron Spelling gal that's aged the best since, sorry Tori. You didn't actually think you were going to win that one, did you? Flitting from marriage to marriage, will-bashing episode to the next, penning blab-all tomes, babes, that stress stuff ages the puss pronto!

S.D. musta figured that her comeback was being trampled by a way foxier femme 'cause she and J.G. spent the whole soiree mingling on opposite sides of the room. Wonder if both gals knew the claws would come out if they laid their eyes on one another off-set? We so hope Brenda and Kelly get into fisticuffs within the first five minutes of the pilot.

We'd consider that appointment television right there, wouldn't you? Naturally, you would. Are we forgetting somethin' here, though? Oh, right, all the fresh faces of the 90210 new class. The glam gang went virtually unnoticed the whole night—guess it's hard to tell one actor from another in a giant party crowd.

That'll probly change superquick once the show hits the tube—who knew what a Chace Crawford or an Ed Westwick was before Gossip Girl started making tween waves? Now we can't go to any H'wood hang without running into one of those dandy-lookin' G.G. prancers. Watch out, Gossip guys 'n' gals, you've got some just-as-pretty ass-candy headed your way in the fall. Yummy overload, look out!

Britney unforch won’t be performing at the VMA’s—first intelligent thing the girl’s done in a while. But B-babe did sorta make a return to the stage during her mother-figure Madonna’s new “Sticky and Sweet” tour. B.S.’s quick cameo, lasting the duration of the sex-ay song “Human Nature," had her trapped in a stalled elevator, writhing around sometimes in a hoodie, sometimes in a white tank top. Yeah, that’s it. No pythons, no pyrotechnics, no thanks.

This publicity stunt is so a step backward from the last time Brit-Brit and Madge shared a stage and a smooch. Couldn’t come up with anything more exciting than this? Just follow Brit around with a camera and you’re likely to get something more enthralling than getting stuck midfloor.

Maddy’s obvious Obama backing and McCain mudslinging (where M compares Barack to Gandhi and J.M. to Hitler) is def the far more interesting controversy on this tour, albeit a little exaggerated. Now those are two fellas we'd like to see trapped in an elevator together, writhing around to a Madonna song.

—With additional English-screwin’ reporting by Becky Bain

Mike Marsland/WireImage.com

Dear Ted:
You're an idiot.
—Siphesihle

Dear Sip:
With a name like yours, that’s a pretty rich statement.

Dear Ted:
A lot of your loyal fans are hating on the new format—and to be honest, I can understand how they feel, but you would have to do a lot worse for me to turn away from your column. And why is my new favorite hottie Christian Bale not winning points with you?
—Patricia

Dear Save the Bat:
On the contrary, my dear, I heart C.B.—talent and mattress wise. Just think he’s gotta work through those inner emotions, that’s all. Like you all need to do with my friggin’ yellow, which is here to stay.

Dear Ted:
Please don't be like Toothy himself when asked a tough question. Just give a simple answer. A yes or no will do. No beating around the bush or skirting the issue. Is there a Baby Tile?
—Tom, Mt. Laurel

Dear Gay Shooter:
Yes.

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Bonnie Hunt, bless her heart, is getting her own daytime talk show, hear? Gal’s like the poor man’s straight woman’s Ellen. Did Megan Mullally and Whoopi Goldberg’s hideous daytime experiences (The View, notwithstanding) not teach us anything? How about Bonnie-babe’s own canceled sitcom?

B.H.’s first guest will be Jumanji costar (yep, reaching that far back) Robin Williams. What, couldn’t get ahold of Tom Cruise or Renée Zellweger? At least Jerry Maguire was a more recent flick.

Don’t exactly smell smashing success here, though we do love Bonnie, just not in blab-tube format. Seriously, tho, Hunt-hon’s a talented comedian and actress, but up against Ellen, Oprah and The View crew, is there any room left during daylight hours?

Oh, and still, Bonnie-babe’s gab fest will hardly come close as the worst talk show of all time, an honor still belonging to Magic Johnson's The Magic Hour for the last decade. Unless, of course, Conan replacement Jimmy Fallon keeps chuckling at his own jokes on Late Night, which he most definitely will.

—With additional English-screwin’ reporting by Becky Bain