· The last week before the Oscars, and so much yet to do! We've got to stalk Zac Efron's seat in the big blue Kodak Theater! We have to fill out our In Memoriam montage ballots! We have to get our party-crashing schedule in order! And in the end, it won't even be the show we dream of. Stupid Oscars.

· It was skeeviness as usual this week in the Chris Brown/Rihanna saga. Then someone leaked a photo.

· We presume that if and/or when Jimmy Kimmel grows balls and cuts Nightline's throat, we'll honor him with a commemorative late-night montage of his own.

· Formula for determining Kate Winslet's odds of winning an Oscar: (Number of nude scenes in nominated film) / (number of years her toughest competition has been acting). Doesn't look too good.

· Now hiring: ABC's art department. Must know Photoshop, but only barely.

· If you're an auction hound who likes bidding on things like Oscar junk or Michael Jackson's portraits of Albert Einstein, it was your lucky week!

· Contrary to convention, the people behind Watchmen absolutely do want you to try Billy Crudup's magical blue wang stunts at home.

· Which doesn't mean that Watchmen is any good, of course. Public Enemies on the other hand... And don't even get us started about the promised masterpiece that is What What (In the Butt) — The Movie.

· Tragedy struck Mickey Rourke when his beloved chihuahua Loki died, relegating him to the least interesting Oscar date possible. But! If his sense of spontaneity and adventure strikes, Vegas may let him borrow Natalia Montalvo for a night.

· And as if Loki's death weren't bad enough, 97.1 kicked the bucket today as well. We hate to think these waves come in threes — what could possibly be next?

· The ugly Chris Brown-Rihanna saga broke last weekend, blew up all week, spawned the text-message mystery of the young year and will apparently be settled by Jay-Z. Any questions?
· Mickey Rourke may show up stag and guzzle awards-show Champagne from the bottle these days, but we prefer to remember the good old baby-faced brooder days.
· Joaquin Phoenix's Two Lovers director regretfully confessed to greasing his star's slippery slope into the Letterman Celebrity Grinder.
· What's the only thing that could enliven Slumdog Millionaire's BAFTA monopoly? A hungry Sharon Stone cougar attack on its star, natch.
· This week in untoward liaisons: Madonna and Jesus. Salma Hayek and an African baby. Craigslisters and at least one Disney or Warners exec.
· Sure, TV on the Radio sounded rotten on SNL. But at least Radiohead and the USC Marching Band didn't kick their asses at the Grammys.
· Hey — Observe and Report looks pretty good! Inglourious Basterds looks... not terrible! And then there's Osbournes Reloaded. Watch at your own risk.
· Tough talent decisions gave American Idol's judges fits, but at least everyone can agree on the exquisite taste of Paula Abdul's new skull-plate jewelry.
· ABC experienced some turnover — Katherine Heigl (maybe) and Nicollette Sheridan are out, Bob Fosse and Martha Graham are in.
· Oprah Winfrey added Dr. Oz and Gwyneth Paltrow to her mortal-enemies list.
· Mike White traveled the world with his father on The Amazing Race and lived to tell — us!

· How do you like your Christian Bale Meltdown of the Century: Straight, or with a few delicious mixers?
· Oh, and one more fun fact to add to your pocket guide to Bale-provoking cinematographer Shane Hurlbut: He's a light-tweaking douche.
· Between the movie spots, the porn, and Bruce Springsteen's crotch, America got its fill of Super Bowl XLIII.
· Ben Lyons's umbrella wasn't quite big enough to keep Benjamin Button dry during an unseasonably harsh hate storm.
· Entering the stretch run, Mickey Rourke's Oscar campaign continued its usual one-step-forward, two-steps-back pace.
· Which was still better than Miley Cyrus, who perfected her own zero-steps-forward, two-steps-back awards-season technique.
· Neither Isla Fisher nor Bikini Girl could catch a break.
· We'd dispatch million-dollar mall cop Paul Blart to resolve this Push squabble between Lionsgate and the Weinsteins, but now we're not so sure we can trust him either.
· Just when we thought all hope was lost, Jude Law came along and dazzled us in drag. We owe him one.
· Vivica A. Fox sure was some fairweather Psychic Friend.

· Someone pushed pretty awards princess Slumdog Millionaire into the Oscar-latrine shit-pile.
· Meanwhile, Milk gathered steam, partially at the unfortunate, Fatone-y expense of James Franco.
· Q: Hey, SAG president Alan Rosenberg! Do you know your union is so utterly fucked that even Justine Bateman can't remain quiet any longer? A: Know it? Hell, I wrote it!
· If Jacksonville had just had an Easter Beary hanging around its American Idol auditions, everyone would have been so, so much happier.
· Sadly, Mickey Rourke's thrilling extracurricular wrestling exploits — from WrestleMania 25 to Evan Rachel Wood's tongue — were refuted and denied.
· Wow, Sly Stallone — what's your nutrition secret? Oh. Never mind.
· In semi-related news, lean Green Hornet jiltee Seth Rogen probably won't succeed Jessica Simpson as the spokesperson for the Speedfit™.
· Elsewhere in Oscar prophecy: Benjamin Button. 0-for-13. Take it to the bank.
· On the occasion of Bart Simpson pimping Scientology and the Olsens' star being vandalized, officials confirmed that in fact nothing is sacred.
· You have to admit: The boys from Kris Kross did inherit their mother's eyes.

We saw a bunch of movies, some of which we loved to pieces. (And some not so much.) We heard some juicy rumors. We heard from Paul Giamatti, John Krasinski, Sam Rockwell, and Bobcat Goldthwait. We saw Ralph Macchio defy time. We recognized patterns and learned new things. We saw feuds end and new ones begin. Then we got sick and came home.
· Oh year—there was also a little something called the Oscar nominations. We liveblogged all four minutes of them, then noted the snubs (poor Wall-E), the subplots, and gave Revolutionary Road one final fuck-you goodbye before noticing how everything eventually comes full circle.

· The Golden Globes were great and everything, but what do they mean? And will Darren Aronofsky get to keep his finger when the FCC is done with it?
· So you might have heard we're going to Sundance. If you happen to be there and can't find a film to buy, just feel free to order us 750,000 drinks.
· SAG's chief negotiator survived a bloody coup in the ongoing Labor Soap Opera of the Century.
· Kate Winslet's breasts landed on Oprah Winfrey's good side. Doubt director John Patrick Shanley, not so much.
· Glenn Close was cited on charges of lewd and lascivious acts with the Walk of Fame.
· The Olsen Twins approve of Tyler Perry's latest ad campaign.
· A haunted Whitney Port recovered after Mother Nature's withering assault on her bikini.
· Hey, Boss — the plane! Uh, Boss? Boss!

· The Jett Travolta tragedy unfolded with too much information and, mere hours later, not enough. Then, right on cue, Lisa Marie Presley cleared everything up.
· This Week in Awards Hell: Bashir stunned WALL-E. The PGA boosted. The WGA snubbed. The DGA sleepwalked. The people spoke (drunkenly). And Dakota Fanning became an Honorary Sista.
· We also celebrated the Listys, a two-part ceremony honoring film criticism's most illustrious and/or incomprehensible Top 10 lists.
· While Lisa Rinna chatted us up about the Golden Globes, the founder of the Razzies explained his awards' baffling Spirit snub.
· Relationships imploded for juggsy clairvoyants, Lindsay Lohan (we think), and the unfortunate son of trigger-happy chopper mom Mrs. B.
· Boy! That saucy Josh Brolin sure knows how to party, doesn't he?
· Jeremy Piven SushiGate worsened this week with his ill-conceived visit to The View and rumors of a lawsuit. Meanwhile, his aggrieved Speed the Plow producers shocked the Broadway establishment by casting Terry Bradshaw in Piven's old role.
· Weary Barbara Walters resolved to be nice to her View co-hosts in 2009. That could have gone better.
· Patrick Swayze might not be as ill as you thought. Michael Jackson, on the other hand...
· MTV Exec #1: "So, get anything nice for the holidays?" MTV Exec #2: "Eh, the usual. A box of shit. You?"

· We remembered 2008: The videos. The passings. The politics. The hits. The favorites. And Viggo Mortensen couldn't buy a break. Seriously, thank God that's over.
· Kathy Griffin prepared for her New Year's heckler meltdown as anyone might: By having a word with Defamer.
· James Cialella — Benjamin Button shooter and American hero.
· Under no circumstances did Promises admit Tara Reid as part of a "buy four rehab stints, get your fifth one free" program.
· It's always the geek children who get hurt when their studio parents clash.
· The much-awaited collaboration between Steven Spielberg and Diablo Cody went about as well as could be expected. On the bright side, we can always fall back on Bromance.
· But the collaboration between Spielberg and Andy Warhol? That's entertainment.
· Kirk Cameron was the leading man in 2008's biggest indie hit. And he didn't even need to chase a stupid, money-crapping dog to do it.
· Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick were discovered to have fallen prey to alleged Ponzi schemer Bernie Madoff. But it could be worse: They could be repped by Dane Cook's brother.
· Pssst, buddy — wanna buy a gossip blog?

· The year's top-three meme-ready utterances: "Contract, Guy, Contract." "Google me, you dumb fuck." And "I THINK SHE ABOUT TO PULL SOME'N OUTTA HER PANTS!" Not necessarily in that order.

· Things were going great for the gays after finally welcoming Clay Aiken and Lindsay Lohan into the fold. And then came Proposition 8.

· Shia LaBeouf had his balls thwacked, hand shattered, pinkie nearly amputated and likeness stolen. But it could have been worse: At least he's not Mike Myers. Or Eddie Murphy. Or a Wachowski brother.

· With the tragic help of the late Heath Ledger — and despite the best saboteurial efforts of Momzo the Clown — The Dark Knight became the box-office phenomenon of the decade.

· Twilight, Iron Man, Sex and the City, and plunderrific Indiana Jones 4 were box-office sensations, Australia, Speed Racer and Zack and Miri Make a Porno went straight to Flopz™. And Delgo was Del-gone before we knew it.

· Lessons in love came hard to Anne Hathaway, who could have learned a thing or two about how to find a man from classy Bachelor contestant Stacey. Or, if she's after something more casual, Ben Lyons is always happy to oblige Hollywood's starfucking needs.

· The 2008 vintage of celebrity sex media proved disappointing at best, with Verne Troyer's frightening video tryst easily outmaneuvering Kristin Davis's racy amateur porn for the overall top spot. Linsday Lohan handily won the Glossy Nudes category, while Adrienne Bailon earned Best Nontroversy with a little help from the Worst Publicist in the World.

· Yet scandal-plagued tween darling Miley Cyrus ultimately emerged in a class by herself, devouring her clothes and going topless-ish for Vanity Fair. But so what, right? Teenagers fuck.

· After numerous teases and an awards-show casualty, the WGA strike finally concluded. Bored with all that peacetime labor harmony, a defiant SAG turned its own missiles on Hollywood.

· We were saddened to see the dissolution of power couples ranging from Madonna and Guy Ritchie to Star Jones and Al Reynolds. If only they had half the excuse that Sarah Silverman had for her temporary bust-up with Jimmy Kimmel.

· The View usurped The Hills as our favorite source of shrill, soul-debasing thrills.

· The Oscars and Emmys were nice and everything, but this year we finally discovered we're really more of a Video Music Awards kind of blog.

· A handful of doomed mini-majors were at the vanguard of the film industry's march toward recession. Harvey Weinstein, meanwhile, straggled behind the pack to bury his dead and plot his retreat.

· We got to know — like really got to know — the Jonas Brothers, Courtenay Semel, Dustin Lance Black and Tyler Perry. In 2009, we resolve to finally meet our beloved Archie.

· Scientology might have had its detractors, scandals and sword-swinging nemeses, but at least its members didn't go around Hollywood asking who this crazy Rosh Hashanah person is.

· We cornered Judd Apatow, Robert Pattinson, Sam Rockwell, Kathy Griffin, Stephen Daldry, John Cusack, Werner Herzog, Rob Corddry, Russell Brand, David Cronenberg, Etan Cohen, Vera Farmiga, Casey Wilson, Dave Holmes and Dennis Hopper into having a word with us. Not all at once, alas, though that would have been awesome.

· Tom Cruise slogged through '08 as well with an ailing studio and a bit of an eyepatch problem, culminating in his "Nazi apologia" Valkyrie. Katie Holmes avoided the whole mess by spending a few months on Broadway.

· The fearless leadership combo of Jeff Zucker and Ben Silverman continued to offer reason upon reason why NBC is your home for Must-Flee TV.

· ZOMG!!!! EARRRRRRRRRTHQUAAAAAKE!!!!

· Nothing surprised us more than Corey Haim's touching full-page contrition. Except maybe for Dolly Parton's unspeakbly filthy mouth.

· So long, Mr. Lisanti. You are missed. As are you, Miss McAleer. And you, Mr. Reinhardt. And you, Miss Friedman. And you, Mr. Graham. Happy new year to them and to you, Dear Reader. We'll see you in 2009!

· Our season was rich with holiday bounties: Fruity Efron. Half-dressed, all-smashed Anna Nicole family Christmases. Mary-Kate Olsen's discount shopping tips. And, for the culturewatcher who has everything, Defamer Claus's indispensable last-minute gift guide.
· SAG blinked.
· Jeremy Piven SushiGate continued this week as audiences and castmates alike revolted against the star's suspicious Broadway exit. And just in case his mercury-poisoning excuse is legit, the makers of that toxic WALL-E bento box have just the remedy.
· Elisabeth Hasselbeck needed a full year to accomplish the kind of View notoriety that Andy Dick achieved in one musical segment.
· Fill in the blank: Jennifer Aniston has had more baby food slathered on her than _______.
· If Scarlett Johansson's efforts at Kleenex philanthropy are too rich and/or intimate for your blood, try out Michael Bay's cheaper, awesomer variation on charity.
· The existence of a werewolf-chic drama named Bitches could only distract us so long from the shock of Robert Pattinson cutting his hair.
· The bad news: You won't be seeing a new Narnia film any time soon. The good news: You can always check out Howard the Duck free on Hulu. Or maybe it's good news, bad news. We can no longer be sure.
· Sorry, Kate Winslet, but frankly, The Reader is not the film you should be defending against rape charges right about now.
· Matthew McConaughey's advice for those viewers critically ill from overexposure to his romantic comedies? Just keep livin', of course.

· Going once! Going twice! And Scarlett Johanssen's snot-saturated Kleenex is sold to the anonymous fucking freak over there behind the computer.
· Of all the crazy things Tom Cruise has read about himself on the Internet, at least he didn't get caught up in Nicole Kidman's utterly horrifying didgeridoo-blowing scandal.
· This Week in Hardware: Heath won (again). Miley and Mariah inched closer to Oscar. Chicago worshipped Wall-E. And Kate Hudson needs a new agent.
· Cinema may never see another star-studded box-office failure the likes of Delgo. Buy your commemorative posters here.
· Worst Week went to sitcom heaven, Anthony Pellicano went to prison, and Sam Bottoms caught the perfect celestial wave.
· The increasingly divisive SAG labor battle now has its own holiday greeting cards available. One condition: You can't send them to AFTRA members.
· Your Broadway astrology report: Mercury is rising in the House of Piven. Mamet is in retrograde.
· The whore-plagued bachelors of Momma's Boys sure could use a yentazilla like Ellen DeGeneres right about now.
· Jennifer Aniston went the necktie-bribery route to avoid any heinous Marley & Me spoilers on The Late Show.
· When the apocalypse finally comes to NBC, is there any doubt that the unkillable Jay Leno will be nibbling off the carcesses of Jeff Zucker and Ben Silverman?
· We published a photograph of Scott Caan's junk. Don't mention it.

· People dealt with their body images in different ways this week. We slimmed down. Carrie Fisher accessorized.
· We sat through one middling awards announcement after another after another after another before the Golden Globes came to play with their heavyweight snub game.
· Things got a little lonely for Ben Silverman, who had nobody around to fetch him champagne after NBC retained Jay Leno. And neither Conan nor SAG have yet stopped by with congratulatory fruit baskets. What gives?
· Catherine Hardwicke's services were no longer needed on the Twilight franchise or her outgoing answering-machine message. Hollywood homonculus Chris Weitz is rumored to at least fill the Twlight vacancy.
· Morning-show and Letterman guest Paula Abdul began a safer, healthier new life as a talk-show refugee.
· Rob Corddry and Reader director Stephen Daldry kindly returned our telephone calls.
· Hey! Is that Emma Watson? And why is she all gussied up for a matinee at the Arclight?
· T.R. Knight appeared to be on the way out at Grey's Anatomy. Megan Mullally ignited her own mid-career meltdown in firm solidarity.
· Let's face it: Peter Chernin and Tom Rothman have far too much important, unfinished work to do at Fox to leave the studio now.
· Have you met our new friend Dong? He has a favor to ask.

Have a great weekend, everybody!