In Which Two Men Fight Over Paris Hilton: An Existential Consideration of The Distance Between FoothillsS

Paris Hilton's mans and ex-mans got into a fight and hopefully punched each other in the face. Adam Lambert and Ke$ha sucked face. Susan Sarandon got puked on by a tranny. Hillary Duff: engaged. Presenting your Saturday Morning Gossip Roundup:

  • So, in case you didn't realize this, Paris Hilton is Alive and Kicking and On Ice, and her and Doug Reinhardt and Brandon Fuckface Davis (his Hebrew name, for the record) had some kind of drams at her birthday party when F. Davis and Reinhardt, her current "squeeze," got into some kind of beef over Paris, and by "beef" I mean it was ostensibly a fight over Paris but really just something to do with their strange penises. Anyway, the point is, two rich assholes got into a fight and one of them got kicked out of a party for being too drunk (F. Davis). So, really, who's worse: the Asshole getting kicked out of the Asshole Party, or the guy who gets to stay? Related: there are questions in life, and then, there are questions that matter. [Page Six]

  • Adam Lambert made out with Ke$ha at a club. Now, tell me: when HumongoFace-N-Furter and Shift-4 make out in a club for people like us to look at and try to extrapolate some greater knowledge of the cosmos out of, does anything happen? Is some kind of super celebrity bacteria transferred? Do protons freak out somewhere? I'm convinced there has to be some kind of physio-chemical reaction somewhere in some other part of the universe, like a star being aborted in the second term, or something. Anyway. Pedicures on my toes, toes is a really catchy line. I wish I can explain why. [NYDN]

  • The same club that saw Adam Lambert get pissed on by a burlesque tranny performer—The Box—has now seen Susan Sarandon get puked on by a burlesque tranny performer. Basically, if there's a celebrity who needs to get their freak on in public but can't because they have an image to maintain, they should hit The Box. Also, "puked on by a burlesque tranny performer" is how it feels every time I cash a paycheck from this job. There is, without a doubt, a terrible joy to the experience. Or something? By the way, this is the first of my last four days on the job. [Page Six]

  • Kelly Osbourne got really thin and her diet did not involve her father's patented Bat-Eating Cleanse. [NYDN]

  • Kate Moss made the first lady of Foggy London Town move out of the way at a fashion show. Remember when Kate Moss used to be edgy? Back when she was dating Pete Doherty, this item would've been about Kate Moss shiv'ing someone. Or being eaten by a sandwich. [Page Six]

  • Hilary Duff is getting married to a guy from the Edmonton Oilers. He could probably kick my ass so I won't talk any shit. Mazel tov, kids. For what it's worth, you don't have my blessing without a pre-nup. It's just that I care about everyone, here. [NYDN]

  • Someone pointed out the fact that Roman Polanski's new movie is about people "confined" to a "compound" on Martha's Vineyard, and that he's currently on house arrest at a Swiss Chalet. Except the difference is that one's real and one's fake and one involves a guy who's about to be sentenced for raping a girl and the other one involves a guy who's about to be sentenced for raping a girl making money for being a movie director. So, there's that. [Page Six]

  • Audrina Patridge has an accused stalker and he was arrested. To be crazy enough to stalk someone is bad enough, to be that crazy and to know who Audrina Patridge is and have a reason to stalk her is another thing entirely. It sucks to be some people, and it really sucks to be other people. [NYDN]

  • You know what's awesome about Olympic skiier Julia Mancuso? Everything. [People]

  • Mick Jagger was doing his awesome trademark cockeyed dirtybird dance for all the cool kids at Kenmare earlier this week, which is supposed to be the new Beatrice Inn, which you don't give a shit about, and really, you shouldn't. What you should care about, though, is this: What if the cool new dance crazy became Mick Jagger's old-school peacock-on-acid routine? Is this something that would make hipsters or whatever we're calling them these days at least moderately likable to you? This world is set so far apart and it'd be nice to see some of us meet in the middle, so, you know, I'm trying to negotiate something here. You can't knock me for trying. Maybe you can, but whatever. Just do it. I don't care. [Page Six]

Another one in the bin! And yes, I'm leaving, and no, it has nothing to do with anybody else. I love this job and well, I'd deliver a more formal announcement, and maybe I will, but honestly, we've got four more days, let's just have fun and play some really great jams for my departed boss Gabriel, who basically was the man. Truly. I think it goes without saying, but the bottom of a gossip roundup that has a picture of someone representing one of the most disproportionately off living-well-to-good-for-the-universe-ratio doing some dumbass shit sitting atop it is no place or way to eulogize the tenure of someone who did some pretty great things, so we'll save the real deal for later, probably next Sunday. On that note:

Yesterday was Gabriel's last day, and Monday is Remy's first day, which means that technically (or something) I just moved up to Editor-In-Chief of this here website for the next 48 hours. SO, if you have something we can spend lots of money on, like a good story or pictures of George W. Bush sodomizing a Muppet, we'll buy it and make you rich and put it all over this here website, and I'll probably throw some CAN HAZ CHEEZEBURGER nonsense on there for good measure. But seriously, Nick already emailed me last night warning me to "keep the anarchy in the comments," and I'm not sure what that means, but you know, that's all on you guys. Does anybody remember laughter? Business as usual. One, two, you know what to do:

[Photo of Paris Hilton trying to clear out her sinuses via Getty Images]