Whassup my blog-hags! I wanna start today by responding to all y'all who've been sending me nasty bitchmails complaining that I'm not updating TMI often enough. Well, biznatches…you'll be happy to know that I caved to your pissy demands and as a direct result quit my job without notice as a hospice care worker for the terminally ill, officially cut ties with all friends and family, and discontinued all non-gossip related activities…including basic human needs such as eating, bathing, and watching Gilmore Girls. Don't worry…those patients dying of Cancer will be fine. I've got more important things to attend to, like freebasing Red Bull so I can stay up for days at a time, relentlessly scanning the internet so I can bring you unflattering pictures of Posh Spice to write catty things about. Snarky, borderline-libelously juicy gossip doesn't just monger itself, you know…it's all up to me, your deliciously defaming diva of dish. Oh yeah, IT'S ON NOW BEYOCHES...

Omigod! Do you guys see the premiere of The World's Most Amazing Race last night? What could be more fabulously exploitaining than watching Angelina Jolie and Madonna dragging their weary husbands across the globe in a white-knuckled chase to see who can assemble the most exotically diverse, adorably ethnic collection of children before the United Nations steps in and imposes sanctions? It kind of plays out like a live action version of Pokemon, and it makes even less sense. Let's take a look at the current standings:

It's a dead heat! Keep in mind, though, that Madonna would be way further ahead if she didn't impulsively sacrifice those Aborigine triplets to that Kabbalah god in the Australian outback. Yo go Mads! Although I must confess a bias due to the fact that as a gay man, I'm legally obligated to unconditionally support Madonna, even if she were to do something utterly reprehensible such as reinvent herself as a self-obsessed, fading pop star, struggling to stay relevant while defiantly challenging the Bush agenda by speaking with a vague British accent and releasing trance remixes of "Vogue" that are unlistenable to anyone who isn't fiercely queer AND on 47 pills of Ecstasy. JEEZ, I hope I never have to face THAT reality. Fingers Crossed!

Strung-out Babyshambles frontman Pete Doherty surprised nobody last night by allegedly going on a drug-fueled rampage at backstage party in which he decapitated fiancée Kate Moss, grinded her drug-addled remains into a fine opiate powder, and then lustily smoked them in a makeshift bong he'd resourcefully fashioned out of her hollowed-out, disembodied skull. Scotland Yard is considering investigating the incident.

SUPER-SAD CELEBRITY BREAKUP ALERT! Awww! Steichsa, my oh-so clever nickname for that white-hot fling between uber-gorgeous starlet Mischa Barton and uber-handicapped theoretical physicist Steven Hawking, is rumored to have suddenly and surprisingly rolled to an abrupt and jarring stop. A heartbroken Mischa confides to US Weekly in a candid interview that hit newsstands today that she became fed up with Stephen's rabid sex addiction and that "90% of the time he'd be using that speech machine thingy to download creepy Asian wheelchair-fetish porn from the internet . Whatevs." Steven countered in Physics Today, viscously unloading on "that skinny bitch," revealing she was "like having sex with a black hole…from which no pleasure could escape."   A mutual friend reveals that Mischa is recovering from the breakup by "getting to know Mischa," evidenced by her being spotted earlier this week in the shadowy corners of Hollywood hotspot The Viper Room canoodling with herself .

If you're anything like me, your genitalia is all atwitter in fevered anticipation of the upcoming sure-fire mega-blockbuster retro toy epic Gobots: The Movie. Without giving away too many spoilers, my sources tell me that GBTM tells the shocking true story of the sudden invasion of planet Earth by an overwhelming force of poorly conceived and constructed robots that transform into even more disappointing vehicles in a diabolical plan to conquer the galaxy. Unfortunately, their invasion comes well over 20 years too late, as the Gobots are soundly defeated by their own crushing lameness and sub-par business plan, and are doomed to the pathetic fate of collecting dust in somebody's Mom's basement.

Speaking of hot new movies, you just gotsta check out the new straight-to-DVD Disney release Freaky Friday 2: I Wanna Rock! It answers that age-old question: "What happens when a child's wish leads to a wacky karmic mix-up that causes a mediocre 35 year-old actor to switch bodies with an overdramatic eight year-old girl who dreams of being the biggest rock star in the whole wild world? " The answer: Something really fucking close to 30 Seconds To Mars, although this film is technically not a documentary.

I have a major development in the Gossip Jihad I declared on TomKat last week. I've had my penis tucked between my legs with giddiness ever since I came across this stunning photo confirming my long-standing suspicion that Tomkat's eerily normal–looking Suri has a dangerously mutated fraternal twin that was born bearing all of the couple's recessesive genes, including Katie's squirrel-sized, erratic brain and multiple sets of freakish, retractable Cruise teeth like the monster from Alien. The couple has successfully kept their potentially explosive embarrassment a secret up to now, attempting several times to abandon it on the doorstep of the Church of Scientology Celebrity Center in Hollywood. Unfortunately, it is rumored to have found its way back to their Beverly Hills mansion each time, apparently guided by its innate, genetic predisposition to be an unbearably annoying attention-whore.

ANYBODY that's ever seen an episode of Bravo's Project Runway has drawn the same logical conclusion and joined in the universal consensus that fashionista guru Tim Gunn is queerer than a 3-way between Oscar Wilde and Wham! That's why I've been sitting in a frozen, mouth agape stare ever since he was officially outed as a not-gay by these earth-shattering papazarri photos of Tim sunning his ghostly pale, semi-translucent frame in Turks and Caicos with Lindsay Lohan and then perv-groping a drunken, impressionable and underage Project Runway intern at a NYC Fashion Week after-party. Oh Boo! I guess this teaches us all an important lesson: mincing around in skin tight black pants while compulsively repeating a mantra of "Make it work!" doesn't necessarily make you gay, even though it probably should.

You old-school TMI blog-hags out there will remember that I've long contended that Tyra Banks is the most vile, egomaniacal hellspawn to ever catwalk the face of the earth, including Janice Dickinson and Hitler. What's surprising is her shockingly precipitous transmogrification into outrageously untalented drag-queen RuPaul over the course of this "cycle" of ANTM. But don't worry Tyra…the news isn't all bad. You're still in the running to become America 's Next Top Tranny.

Holy shizz y'all…have you heard the new Morrissey? It's an AMAZING live concept album that explores the alienation, shame and emotional torment that results when a 45 year-old man takes his shirt off in public one too many times. Color my mind blown, sisterchild.

If you've experienced any problems with your internet connection recently, it's likely because the web's collective gag reflex has been working overtime ever since the Nicole Richie Sex Tape was leaked on the unsuspecting public, officially making it the most embarrassing production that Lionel Richie has been connected with since Dancing On a Ceiling. Truth be told, I think that Bichie has looked better, but you know what they say…that nightvision effect always adds 10 pounds.

Ashlee Simpson has apparently taken her plastic surgery obsession to drastic new heights, joining forces with Clear Channel in the effort to further her pop career by commissioning a team of the world's top biological surgeons, who have successfully performed a complex series of experimental identity-alerting procedures including retinal transplants, fingerprint removal, and DNA re-engineering. The dramatic results legally classify her as an entirely new person, albeit one that still sings impossibly shittily. Insanely frustrated sis Jess continued her tireless campaign to make Ashlee look even better by comparison when she inexplicably responded by undergoing emergency boob-droop and mom-ass implant procedures. WTF?!!!

Just when my emotional wounds had healed following the death of my beloved Croc Hunter (fuck you stingrays!), they have been ripped open anew by the senseless and bizarre murder of one of my childhood crushes, TV Heath Superhero Slim Goobody. TMZ.com reports that Slim was mercilessly beaten to death by an enraged mob of close-minded parents during the taping of his highly anticipated comeback special, his bloodthirsty attackers taking full advantage of the fact that his most vulnerable organs were conveniently highlighted for them. Slim's production company claims his passing to be only a minor career setback however, as "Grim Deadbody" will continue to tour the country, enlightening elementary school students of the wonders of rigor mortis and decomposition. It is rumored that his unitard will be donated to science. LOLRIP.

Hey, have you guys noticed that Paris Hilton is kind of slutty?  After years of careful, studied observation, I can now validate this long-standing rumor as TOTALLY true by the scientific method of hypothesis, theory, and fact. Case in point: yesterday, the Center For Disease Control released a dire warning to the public reporting a powerful strain of a heretofore undiscovered venereal disease, more powerful than AIDS, that can be contracted from simply listening to her new single. On the heels of that shocker comes today's announcement that the Department of Homeland Security has foiled a fiendish Al-Qaeda plot to kidnap her vagina and harness it's destructive powers as a biological weapon, news that solidifies her worldwide reputation as a rank, stanky skank…

…who I had the absolute privilege of partying with last Saturday night at MisShapes in NYC y'all! HOLLA!!! Isn't she SO glamorously nepotastic and famously rich?!! Some of you might call me a hypocrite for consorting with the very targets of my relentlessly vitriolic gossip fodder, but what can I say? I'm drawn like a moth to fame!

Speaking of AWESOME me-related gossip, if these pictures I found on my trusty jewel-encrusted pink Sidekick this morning are any indication, I must have had some kind of wild night last evening! I had actually just planned to spend a quiet night indoors catching up on some much-needed sleep after a particularly frenzied blog binge…

However, judging from these photos, I apparently overdosed on Ambien, ended up at the 2006 MTV VDA Awards, chilled with K-Fed and Fergie backstage, then somehow joined Lance Bass for the first gay spacewalk in human history, and wrapped up the night by aggregiously violating the restraining order that Justin Timberlake has against me by abducting and imprisoning him in my basement sex dungeon. Whew! I have no idea how I slept through all of that, but alls I know is that when I woke up this morning my Sidekick was up my ass, I didn't remember any of it, and I was sore EVERYWHERE. Oh shit, wait a second …I think I hear Justin trying to escape! Gotta go. Peace out, bitches!