Screenwriter Diablo Cody, a/k/a Brook Busey, could not get with the program w/r/t today's internet awesomeness.

Television doctor Drew Pinksy engaged in some self-inflicted distress, at the airport. Worrisome.

Don't you know who CNN's TJ Holmes is, department story lady? Not your peon.

Actress Erika Christensen seeks man to receive home-cooked meals. Line forms to the left. In her Twitter stream.

In an obvious bid for attention, Mashable's Ben Parr called a feature he not only read, but also tweeted, "lazy" ....as if that were a bad thing!

Did you witness the media elite tweet something indiscreet? Please email us your favorite tweets - or send us more Twitter usernames.

Gourmet Editor Ruth Reichl took a moment to tweet as she packed up her office, made redundant by Condé Nast.

The guy behind I Can Has Cheezburger offered to take over — err, "Haz" — Reichl's magazine.

Diablo Cody got maternal in her own unique way.

Joy Behar might be late to the Letterman scandal, but she'll make up for it by being pun-ny.

Nilay Patel of Engadget simply wants the day's tech news to actually be new. Is that so much to ask?

Did you witness the media elite tweet something indiscreet? Please email us your favorite tweets - or send us more Twitter usernames.

6. Megan Fox and Amanda Seyfried's Kiss Isn't That Exploitative

By the time I saw a screening of Jennifer's Body last week, the "lesbian kiss" clip was already partially online, and seemed just as eye-rollingly marketing department-mandated as one would expect. But it actually fits nicely into the plot — in the full scene, Needy (Amanda Seyfried) is suspicious of Jennifer (Megan Fox), and Jennifer is trying to win her back the only way she knows how — with her overpowering sexuality. Besides, it's played for laughs when Needy suddenly realizes they're kissing and pushes Jennifer away and is all like "Wait, what?" about it.

5. The Diablo Cody-isms Aren't As Distracting As They Were In Juno

Jennifer's Body probably could have done without "Moveon, Dot Org!", but generally, the weird Diablo Cody alien teenspeak is limited to one character — Jennifer — which makes it seem like it's her tic, not the entire movie's. And when I'm watching a horror movie, I like knowing there's always another pop culture allusion just around the corner. This movie isn't trying to be Citizen Kane. I might even start calling my best friends Monistat and Vagisil...well...or not. But teenagers do tend to have their own language, and if it was okay in Heathers, it's okay here.

4. Adam Brody's Dead-On Brandon Flowers Impression

Adam plays the eyelinered lead singer of the indie band Low Shoulder, whose single "Through The Trees" goes platinum after it becomes the official song of the Devil's Kettle Tragedy. Though Adam claims in interviews that he based his character on several famous lead singers, come on, it's Brandon Flowers from The Killers all the way. He even grows a Flowers-esque mustache after he gets famous. It adds another layer to think of his ruthless evil famewhore character being based on Flowers the goodie two-shoes Mormon.

3. J.K. Simmons As the Wig-Wearing Science Teacher With A Hook For A Hand

Because J.K. Simmons is always funny, and because the hook is never explained or even mentioned.

2. Megan Fox....Can...Actually...Like...Act?

Bad news for Megan Fox's legions of haters: she may have dumb tattoos, say silly things in interviews, and possess exactly one mouth-agape red-carpet facial expression, but in this movie at least, Megan Fox's ability to play the full range of her ditzy-yet-utterly-enthralling high school alpha-female character is undeniable. (Amanda Seyfriend is also terrific, but we already knew that.) You just can't stop watching Megan, and after this mesmerizing performance, her sudden massive fame seems a little bit more understandable. I'm sorry if this upsets anyone. It's just true. Bitch can act, and we need to accept it and move on (dot org).

1. It's An Empowerment Movie For Former Wallflower Sidekicks Everywhere

Most of us have, at some point in our lives, found ourselves playing sidekick to an underminer-y, narcissistic, "best friend." (This is based on anecdotal, not scientific, research, but it's totally true.) We tend to grow out of it by our late '20s unless we're characters on Sex and the City, but if the low-self-in-relation-to-Miss-Superstar-esteem memories still linger, Jennifer's Body is THE movie to see to permanently exorcise your inner nerdy sidekick forever. It's a horror movie about toxic friendships! Why didn't anyone think of that before? The last two scenes of Jennifer's Body will make any former wallflower feel like a badass, giving us more than we ever expected from a cheap horror movie: an hour and a half of therapy. See it with a friend you (actually, really) love!

Singer Jessica Simpson's missing dog might as well be her actual human baby, the baby she inadvertently fed to coyotes.

Kirstie Alley, the actress and Scientologist, has been hoodwinked into spending exorbitant amounts of money to achieve arbitrary nonsensical goals inside a made-up world created expressly for the purpose of separating people from their money. Go figure.

Mark Glaser, PBS' media critic, didn't know the power of his own tweets.

Diablo Cody craved a long-delayed three way with Ben & Jerry.

CNN's Situation Room has finally been hooked up to Twitter, as Wolf Blitzer joins the microblogging service. Finally, someone has brought a rapid, disjointed discussion of the news cycle to Twitter.

Did you witness the media elite tweet something indiscreet? Please email us your favorite tweets - or send us more Twitter usernames.

• Demi Moore threw her daughter Rumer Willis a 21st birthday party in Vegas over the weekend complete with male strippers! Also in attendance were Rumer's dad Bruce Willis and stepdad Ashton Kutcher, who did not play any part in the beefcake festivities as far as I can tell. [Orlando Sentinel and People]
  
  
• Desperate to get his daughter back in the spotlight again, Jessica Simpson's father Joe is nagging American Idol producers to hire Jessica to be Paula Abdul's replacement. [Page Six]
  
  
• The Jackson shitshow continues to ramble on — over the weekend news broke that Michael Jackson's body was frozen by his mother in a secret freezer, now Joe Jackson is claiming, over a lunch of ribs and jalapeno bread, that the family has finally settled on Jacko's burial arrangements. [Mirror and Gatecrasher]
  
  
• Producers of Diablo Cody's new film Jennifer's Body are planning on making a big deal out of a make-out scene between Megan Fox and Amanda Seyfried as a part of the film's publicity push. [Page Six]
  
  
• Here are the latest Britney Spears bikini pics, this time she's looking sort of curvy while playing around in a pool with her children. [Sun]
  
  
• Lady Gaga's manager says that she uses men like candy — she peels off the wrapper and just chews them up! No word from the manager if she uses her poon or peen or both to do so. [Sun]
  
  
• Colin Farrell actually met the one female fan that he won't sleep with when some crazy lady jumped into a car he was driving while filming a movie scene. He reportedly began screaming like someone was trying to kill him. [Mirror]
  
  
• Jennifer Love Hewitt is playing sports in a bikini again, this time it's tennis, and she's wearing wedge heels to increase the degree of difficulty. [Daily Mail]
  
  
• Hugh Grant is once again talking about his possibly retiring from acting because he says he's been freezing up more and more on camera. [Daily Mail]
  
  
• Special Topics In Calamity Physics author Marisha Pessl is divorcing her hedge-fund manager husband. [Page Six]

• Orlando Bloom, who isn't exactly Hollywood's most in-demand actor at the moment, has turned down the opportunity to reprise his role as Will Turner because he's head-over-heels in love with his girlfriend, Miranda Kerr. [Daily Mail]
  
  
• Megan Fox says that playing a classmate-eating high school zombie in Diablo Cody's new flick, Jennifer's Body, was damn sexy. Megan Fox just thinks everything she does is sexy, and sadly, she's probably right. [Sun]
  
  
• Tara Reid has overcome numerous botched plastic surgeries to emerge as some sort of deformed stick figure. But hey, at least she's still getting noticed by the tabloids! [Sun]
  
  
• Susie Essman, when she's not hilariously cursing people out like she does Larry David on Curb Your Enthusiasm, dates losers. At least she used to, according to her new book. [Daily News]
  
  
• Jon Gosselin is a big spender. He paid $950 for a pair of wingtips in the Hamptons over the weekend, shoes he probably wore to kick some skank to the curb, because that's what Jon Gosselin does. [Page Six]
  
  
• Paris Hilton is claiming that Michael Jackson named his daughter Paris after her, hoping that she'd be the same type of little snow angel that Paris is whenever she grows up. [Sun]
  
  
• Hayden Panettiere was lauded by PETA recently for throwing a fit on a film set when a leaf-blower was used to clear a flock of birds from a tree. [Page Six]
  
  
• Blake Fielder-Civil, Amy Winehouse's ex-husband, says that she almost died in his arms after going on a three day binge on heroine and crack. [Daily Mail]
  
  
• Here's a new and innovative way to pick up girls in clubs compliments of Adrian Grenier—line up a bunch of tequila shots on the bar and pass them out to willing females. Amazing. [Page Six]
  
  
• Sienna Miller is not happy with the look of a doll made in her likeness in conjunction with the new G.I. Joe movie. She says that the doll squints too much. [Mirror]

Actress Diablo Cody is so badly addicted to cultural references, she can't stop dropping them, on Twitter even, about her own therapy, even. (We'd suggest counseling, but that would apparently just feed the cycle.)

CNET's Rafe Needleman scolded his inner geek, via his outer geek.

News anchor Rick Sanchez actually apologized for the lack of savage physical violence on CNN. ABOUT TIME.

Joe Randazzo, Onion editor, questioned the ethics of New York Times, actual serious newspaper. And he had a point!

LA Weekly's Alexia Tsotsis, recently of Gawker, found Nikki Finke's tech coverage highly inappropriate.

Did you witness the media elite tweet something indiscreet? Please email us your favorite tweets - or send us more Twitter usernames.

Because it looks like it could be funny? Look, we're not fans of Cody's snappy, reference-laden "writing" any more now than we were when Juno came out or United States of Tara (a show that got better only after Cody stopped writing episodes) debuted. But couldn't that jerky dialogue and look-Ma-no-hands kind of sardonic bravado acquit itself nicely in a silly/scary horror comedy? The Girl Gets Revenge trope worked fairly well in Teeth, and we all remember the nerdy Blockbuster clerk's wet dream that was Scream. Smoosh those two things together and you just might get Jennifer's Body. Something so head-poundingly annoying it's oddly entertaining. Y'know?

[via ShockTilYouDrop]

Juno scribe Diablo Cody talked about dicks.

Washington Post tech reporter Rob Pegoraro discussed his email habits.

Gourmet editor Ruth Reichl discomfited everyone who hadn't realized she was dressed up as Gene Simmons.

Chicago Sun-Times D.C. bureau chief Lynn Sweet fed our Michelle Obama obsession.

Today Show videoblog correspondent Sara Haines looked forward to puppies.

Did you witness the media elite tweet something indiscreet? Please email us your favorite tweets — or send us more Twitter usernames.

Lady screenwriters? Just a thought: If you don't want people to fixate on your sexuality maybe don't blurt out to a Times writer, "We've all seen each other naked."

Or call your drunken limousine rides "super porno."

But having talked about your work on a would-be series called Sluts, and having dubbed yourselves "The Fempire," it sounded a bit disingenuous when you all complained about "pressure to look photogenic in a way that is not demanded of male screenwriters."

That's surely true of the Femperors. But these aren't hermit screenwriters, hunkered down in Los Angeles apartments, avoiding the sort of Times reporters who would call them "gorgeous" in the second paragraph.

No, these are women with moxie, and ambition. This profile has the feel of, oh, a group bid to launch some sort of lady Entourage, maybe? The photogenic, novelist author of the Times piece would fit snugly into such a project.

Whatever their specific dreams, Entourage-scale aspirations will be judged with the likes of Adrian Grenier and Jeremy Piven in mind. As Cody knows all too well, making those sorts of references and comparisons is utterly second-nature to viewers. And one suspects Cody and her friends, despite protestations to the contrary, don't need to be reminded of it.

In perhaps the most notorious example of a suddenly superfluous tattoo, Johnny Depp had "Winona Forever" inked onto his arm in a tribute to then-fiancée Winona Ryder. Depp eventually had his tattoo changed to read "Wino Forever," eschewing the somewhat more enigmatic, possibly golf-related "Win a Fore."


Jude Law quoted the Beatles in a forearm tattoo honoring wife Sadie Frost: "You came along to turn on everything, Sexy Sadie." The two divorced after six years of marriage, and Law has covered up the lyric with a tattoo of a heart.


As soon as Juno was released, Oscar-winning screenwriter Diablo Cody announced that she was single and looking to mingle with all eligible homeskillets by inking over her husband's name.


Instead of covering up her "Billy Bob" tattoo, Angelina Jolie simply had it lasered off after she split up with Billy Bob Thornton. In response, Jennifer Aniston finally rubbed off a Magic Marker tribute to Tate Donovan on her inner thigh.


Tom Arnold had a variety of terrifying Roseanne-related tattoos inflicted onto his body when the two were married, including one on his hindquarters. All four tattoos have reportedly been lasered off; we are declining to look for visual proof and will take him at his word.


When Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee split, she had her ring finger tattoo modified from "Tommy" to "Mommy." No word on whether Lee was able to cover up the "Pamela" he had tattooed onto his penis; if there are any groupies out there with Hep C and stories about a schlong scrawled with "Penisla," let us know.

· Bob Iger, on the other hand, had an 11% sweeter 2008 than the year before. He's the happiest honcho on Earth!
· Vulture casts The Miracle of Flight 1549, with the unusual choice of The Magnetic Fields's Stephin Merritt in the role of that talkative dude you might have have seen here, or on just about any other news outlet in the hours following the emergency landing.
· Does anyone recognize Wheelie Boy from the 1971 motocross documentary On Any Sunday? Somebody's looking for him.
· Wondering where Lonny Ross was in last night's 30 Rock? Well then, stop fast forwarding past the commercials!

The pilot is now streaming at the Showtime website (type in TARA when prompted for a password). What Cody has come up with is Tara, a depressive housewife and muralist-for-hire, played by Toni Collette with the open-mouthed neediness she's capitalized upon since Muriel's Wedding. But unlike Muriel, there's nothing here to make us particularly care about Tara. She's not quite pathetic enough, or crazy enough, or manipulative enough. She possesses none of the guile or sex appeal that made Mary-Louise Parker's pot-dealing mom in Weeds so instantly engaging, none of the ferocity and purposefulness of the women at the center of The Closer and Damages, none of the stifled ambition propelling the Mad Men girls. Tara might talk a lot, but she arrives utterly inert, without any reason to exist.

What Tara does have, however, is a hook. She suffers from dissociative identity disorder, a very real affliction which in Hollywood's hands always seems to offer actors a showcase to flaunt one's broad-ranged capacity for flimsy stereotyping. Why perform one character well, the thinking seems to go, when you can instead embody a half-dozen lazily rendered caricatures, spanning generations, socio-economic backgrounds, and colorful slang lexicons?

And so, just as the mind starts to wander away from the neither remarkable nor well-observed struggles of Tara, her long-suffering and sketchily motivated husband Max (John Corbett), and their two Junospeak-afflicted children (we meet the daughter shortly after she's taken the Morning After pill; their teenage son, meanwhile, is forced to utter the line, "Aunt Charmaine is a hosebeast," among other humiliations), we're introduced to Tara's alter egos: T, the slutty tween, Buck, the trash-mouthed trucker, and, in a future installment, Alice, the happy 1950s homemaker. We'd prefer a Hills marathon, a Larry the Cable Guy special, and some Leave it to Beaver to this. At least there's some authenticity in that artifice.

Of signing on for the series, Collette has said, "I never even contemplated working in TV. And this script arrived and as soon as I finished it I closed the last page and said, 'I have to do this.' It's so well-written, it's like a dream job." We hope that was T talking, because watching the finished product was also something of a dream—one of those meandering and pointless dreams that seems to last forever, but fails to provide a single memorable moment when it's over. The United States of Tara isn't just bad. It's bad four times over.

• The United States of Tara [sho.com]

Boomp3.com

At the 12th annual Hollywood Film Festival awards, popular culture impresario Diablo Cody decided to celebrate Halloween a few days earlier, doing her best zombie walk down the red carpet. Cody described herself as a fresh zombie, just a couple of hours old, but also felt she could go another way with her outfit. Cody said, “It’s a tad Stepfordy too. Like if Pris from Blade Runner was somebody’s wife.”

[Photo Credit: Getty Images]

*A Call To The Bullpen is a work of fiction. Although the pictures we use are most certainly real, Defamer does not purport that any of the incidents or quotations you see in this piece actually happened. Lighten up, people ... it's a joke.

"I was getting contacted by so many people regarding the plight of young pregnancy that I was beginning to think I was the leading obstetrician in this country or something," Diablo said at the MTV Networks Election Effect Panel Discussion in NYC.

She laughed off questions about her teen comedy "glamorizing teen pregnancy."

"If I would have know that I wielded that kind of power, I would have written a movie called Don't Vote for McCain," Diablo joked.

Later, Cody opined on Sarah Palin:

"I think Sarah Palin is creepy actually," Diablo says. "Creepier than McCain. But you know I think my beliefs have been very liberal my entire life, so naturally I'm voting for Obama. I used to think that McCain wouldn't make a bad President to be honest, but I think this election has exposed so much ugliness that its just cemented my beliefs."

Perhaps if Sarah Palin traded in her rimless Kawasakis for a pair of pink, heart-shaped sunglasses, the Republican ticket could see eye-to-eyewear with the Oscar-winning writer, but until that day comes, it appears that Cody is firmly on Team Letterman. And John? Don't even attempt a rebuttal. Diablo is simply better at this than you.

[Photo Credit: AP]

• Diablo Cody: Influence Broker? [OK!]

"Comedy should only be written about sensitive subjects."

"That's my philosophy. To say that we shouldn't have comedies about sensitive subjects is to denigrate comedy. Which to me is a very high art form."

It remains to be seen if this series will fulfill the promise of Juno and establish Cody as the great screenwriting voice of her generation, or if a surface treatment of a serious subject and penchant for dialogue like, "Craptards, mom! Dov Berkleman is coming over tonight to Schoolhouse my Rock, and I need to know if you're the 18-year-old slut or the 58-year-old clarinetist. For seriousballs!" will ultimately leave Tara viewers and Diablo fans alike severely disappointed.

• United States of Tara Preview [/Film]

A while back, there was a thoughtful article in the above-mentioned publication about Ellen Page and myself. The article was mostly about how passionately some people hate me. As I explained to my therapist the following day (ha) it's kind of weird to read something like that about yourself. On one hand, you feel defensive. On the other hand, you feel puzzled. You feel compelled to identify what it is about you that might inspire such vitriol. (I personally suspect the hate isn't that widespread; it's just loud.)

I thought about it. For months. I even wrote a screenplay on the theme. And then, finally, I figured it out.

I have a response to those who are still boring enough to lob insults in my direction. (Those of you who are friends, fans, enablers, or dislike my writing for legitimate, rational, nonpersonal reasons can tune out now if you like. This isn't for you.)

Anyone else? Bend thine ear:

I am not Charlie Kaufman or Sofia Coppola (much as I supplicate at their Cannes-weary feet.) I'm not Paul Thomas Anderson. I'm not even Paul W.S. Anderson. I am middle-class trash from the Midwest. I'm a competent nonfiction writer, an admittedly green screenwriter, and a product of Hollywood, USA. I am "Diablo Cody" and if you're not a fan, go rent Prospero's Books again and leave me the fuck alone.

I may have won 19 awards that you don't feel I earned, but it's neither original nor relevant to slag on Juno. Really. And you're not some bold, singular voice of dissent, You are exactly like everyone else in your zeitgeisty-demo-lifestyle pod. You are even like me. (I, too, loved Arrested Development! Aren't we a pretty pair of cultural mavericks? Hey, let's go bitch about how Black Kids are overrated!)

I'm sorry that while you were shooting your failed opus at Tisch, I was jamming toxic silicon toys up my ass for money. I get why you're bitter. I took exactly one film class in college and— with the curious exception of the Douglas Sirk unit—it bored the shit out of me. I also once got busted for loudly crinkling a bag of Jujubes during a classroom screening of Vivre Sa Vie. I don't deserve to be here. We've established that. But I'm here. Five million 12-year-olds think I'm Buck Henry. Accept it.

(Incidentally, if you were me for one day you'd crumble like fucking Stilton. I am better at this than you. You're not strong enough, Film_Fan78. Trust me.)

I'm sorry to all those violent, semi-literate fanboys who hate me for befriending their heroes. I can't help it if your favorite writer, actor, director, or talk show host likes me. Maybe you would too, if we actually met.

I know my name is fake and that it annoys you. What, do you hate Queen Latifah and Rip Torn, too? Writers and entertainers have been using pseudonyms for years. Chances are, you're spewing bile under an assumed screen name yourself. I'm sorry if you think I'm like some inked-up quasi-Suicide Girl derby cunt from 2002, but I like my fake name. It's engraved on an Oscar. Yours isn't.

Listen: I've been telling stories my whole life. Even when I was a phone sex operator, I was the Mark Twain of extemporaneous jerk-off fiction. I took every perspiring creep on a fucking journey. I don't know how to do anything else.

I'm going to make more movies and shows. I doubt they'll all be good, but that's the nature of this life. Even though the public only knows me from one book, one movie, and several aborted blogs, I've spent the last few years hustling like Iceberg Slim out here to prove myself professionally. The people I currently work for, and with, are more than pleased with my post-Juno output. My pilot was so good (thanks, Toni Colette!) that it got picked up for series. That is rare, children. That is blue-rare.

In summation: you try it.

This is the last I have to say on the subject, unless I'm provoked by a journalist in which case I'll gladly reload. With relish, as Betty Rizzo might say. That said, I'm a 30-year-old woman with a dwindling interest in blog culture, and I don't have time to address this bullshit every time one of my projects comes out. I'm in love, I just bought a house, and my boss made E.T. I kind of have to focus on reality.

I may have won 19 awards that you don't feel I earned, but it's neither original nor relevant to slag on Juno. Really. And you're not some bold, singular voice of dissent, You are exactly like everyone else in your zeitgeisty-demo-lifestyle pod. You are even like me. (I, too, loved Arrested Development! Aren't we a pretty pair of cultural mavericks? Hey, let's go bitch about how Black Kids are overrated!)

Much, much more, after the jump:

I'm sorry that while you were shooting your failed opus at Tisch, I was jamming toxic silicon toys up my ass for money. I get why you're bitter. I took exactly one film class in college and— with the curious exception of the Douglas Sirk unit—it bored the shit out of me. I also once got busted for loudly crinkling a bag of Jujubes during a classroom screening of Vivre Sa Vie. I don't deserve to be here. We've established that. But I'm here. Five million 12-year-olds think I'm Buck Henry. Accept it.

(Incidentally, if you were me for one day you'd crumble like fucking Stilton. I am better at this than you. You're not strong enough, Film_Fan78. Trust me.)

I'm sorry to all those violent, semi-literate fanboys who hate me for befriending their heroes. I can't help it if your favorite writer, actor, director, or talk show host likes me. Maybe you would too, if we actually met.

I know my name is fake and that it annoys you. What, do you hate Queen Latifah and Rip Torn, too? Writers and entertainers have been using pseudonyms for years. Chances are, you're spewing bile under an assumed screen name yourself. I'm sorry if you think I'm like some inked-up quasi-Suicide Girl derby cunt from 2002, but I like my fake name. It's engraved on an Oscar. Yours isn't.

...In summation: you try it.

Having finally bitten the heads off her skeptics like a possessed, near-nude Megan Fox, Cody was content, though her example inspired backlashed Garden State auteur Zach Braff to make his own go of it. Resuscitating his long-dormant Xanga with a post entitled, "Hey Ya! (Outkast)," Braff went after the legion of Garden State lovers who had turned on him like a manic pixie dream girl gone fickle. "Does your People's Choice Award nomination say Zach Braff on it?" he wrote. "I don't think so. Laterzzz! (mood: ebullient)"

[Photo Credit: AP]

• Hello Again! (Starring Shelly Long) [Myspace]

• Jennifer Aniston was photographed holding hands on a Mexican beach with a MYSTERY MAN. He's OLDER. Also, she's just friends (third item) with actor Gerard Butler even though he was totally TOUCHING HER THIGH.
• Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt and their six kids live in $85,000-per-month French chateau that is a "pigsty," a "warzone" and that has a "completely fly-infested" kitchen. Also there's blue dye everywhere. [Star]
• Diablo Cody: "I’m sorry that while you were shooting your failed opus at Tisch, I was jamming toxic silicon toys up my ass for money." [Slashfilm]
• Animal-hating liar Paris Hilton is claiming 300,000 people applied to be on her show even though one of her auditions in midtown New York drew less than 40 people. She also claims she's going to "be in a lot" of real estate and hotels some day, unlike today when she lives in cardboard boxes or something.
• Brad Garrett from Everybody Loves Raymond is dating nothing but trouble. Hire-a-private-eye trouble. [P6]
• Meghan McCain has a "tiny blue star" tattoo near her foot. After the election, she's going to go even more crazy with some other tattoo. Wild. [P6]
• Jennifer Lopez is throwing her husband an $800,000 birthday party. [Scoop]