Maher told Gawker that Staub claimed to have slept with Don Johnson. Which pretty much makes sense, given Maher's accounts of coke-fueled orgies in Miami in the late 1980s. Miami Vice shot on location there, and the woman Maher describes —the bisexual "paid escort" and stripper who was "messed up on cocaine"—certainly sounds like the type who might find a way to snuggle up to a nearby TV star.

We asked Johnson about the claim—like he'd remember!—and here's what he said:

Not every guy who drove a Ferrari and didn't shave was me.

So true. It could just as easily have been Philip Michael Thomas.

I’m no opera buff, but I heard that David Cronenberg was directing an opera version of The Fly and I wanted to go. When I saw that decent tickets were like $250 each, I decided to pretend I was a journalist and get in for free. This worked shockingly well. Not only did I get orchestra seats to The Fly, but also tickets to Il Trittico (a Puccini trilogy directed by William Friedkin and Woody Allen) as well as an invitation to the opening weekend black tie gala. In other words, my ass got hooked up.

I arrived at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion on Friday night, at least 20 years younger than everyone else and certainly the only one in a rented Men’s Wearhouse tuxedo. The women, bronzed and tucked within an inch of their lives, were draped in gowns that looked like fine Renaissance tapestries. Golf ball-sized bangles hung from their elongated earlobes. The men had self-tying bow ties and wore patent leather loafers without socks—a move only extremely successful people and total douches can pull off. The crowd even smelled rich. No Axe body spray here, this was strictly a Creed gathering, filled with people who made their money long ago. These guys didn’t have to worry about whether the studio would greenlight their next project; they were too busy donating wings to museums. I grabbed some complimentary champagne and drank a flute or five, thinking it would help me blend in a little better.

The opera began and I was carried all the way to intermission afloat on a sea of alcohol. So much for the performance. Before I knew it, I was in the lobby with the swells once again. There was a reception for the media but I decided to skip it, preferring to stay with my rich brethren. I noticed that a select few of them were making their way to the left side of the auditorium and I decided to follow. They were filing into the Founder’s Room— an exclusive members only club within the already exclusive club of people who attend the opera on opening night. I snuck in, which was surprisingly easy to do because security doesn’t assume anyone would be so uncouth as to pull a stunt like that. The room was a gorgeous wood-paneled affair and the people here made the people in the lobby seem like paupers. There were even some celebs. Michael Eisner stood alone in the corner thumbing through a program. Martin Short walked by entertaining a group of dowagers who cackled at every word he said. William Petersen talked shop with some ancient executives. Don Johnson (!) strutted around with his amazingly tall ex-model wife. Josh Groban was being Josh Groban. I drank more free champagne to steel myself for the opera’s final act.

Soon enough the show was over and it was time for the opening night gala dinner. Only large donors to the opera were invited to this shindig and I was one of the lucky few members of the media asked to cover it. The courtyard of the Music Center had been converted into a banquet hall. Crystal stemware, silver, and a centerpiece of expensive roses graced every table. I was seated off to the side with the other journalists, but they were professional opera journalists, and therefore far classier than I. We dined on filet mignon and creamed Tuscan black kale catered by Patina. A live orchestra tinkled out standards and I fortified myself with still more champagne. Placido Domingo, living legend and director of the L.A.O. took the mike. In his glamorously Italian-accented yet boring speech, he thanked the opera’s many benefactors and introduced the cast and crew. Then he singled out Woody Allen.

Earlier in the evening Woody made his operatic debut by directing Gianni Schicchi, the only comedic opera in Puccini’s Il Trittico. It was a smashing success and received a standing ovation, but the famous recluse never came out for a curtain call. Many of us wondered if he even bothered to show up at all. I certainly didn’t expect him to be at the gala dinner. But as soon as Placido said his name, Woody stood up and shyly waved to the crowd. He had skipped the tux in favor of his traditional uniform-the famous thick black glasses, khaki pants, frayed Oxford shirt, and a blue blazer—and it made him look more like a living cartoon character than a real human being. It’s rare that anyone gets a chance to be near Woody in the flesh, especially Los Angelinos, and within seconds well-wishers mobbed him. Most memorably, Don Johnson came up to him brimming with confidence. “I’m a big star,” thought Don. “There’s no way Woody wouldn’t be psyched to meet me.” But when he tapped Woody on the shoulder and shook his hand, Woody said hi, and then immediately turned to talk to someone else. Obviously Woody Allen could give a shit about Don Johnson. For the briefest second, a look of embarrassment flashed across Don’s face, but then he bucked up and went back to his model wife, pretending all was right in the world.

After that, the evening pretty much died down. I drank the last of my free champagne and floated off into the night vowing to become super rich so I could hobnob like this every year.

[Photo Credits: FilmMagic]

In today's episode: Don Johnson; Topher Grace, Seth Gabel, Robert Rodriguez and Rose McGowan; Drew Barrymore and Justin Long; Seth MacFarlane, Steve Harwell, Reid Scott and Michael Bunin; Dominic Monaghan; Michael Ovitz; John Cho; Dita Von Teese; Adrian Grenier; Monica Keena and David Anders; Gregg Araki and James Duval; Dizzy Reed; William Mapother; Brandon Davis and Danny Bonaduce.

· A well-preserved Don Johnson was having lunch outside at Le Petit Greek on Larchmont today (9/26). Had this been twenty some-odd years ago, I would've been so excited instead of mildly/hardly amused.

· Post-Arcade Fire at Magnolia on Sunset. Saw a baseball-capped Topher Grace with pervy/sweaty/stabby Nip/Tuck kid, Seth Gabel. They chatted up some girls on the patio before walking off down Sunset. Thirty minutes and one burger later, saw Robert Rodriguez and Rose McGowan walking towards us arm and arm. She stopped at the valet stand and waited as an attendant got her car, while Rodriguez kept strolling along by himself. After getting her SUV, McGowan drove and caught up with the still ambling Rodriguez further down Sunset where he then got in. Those two head cases seem made for each other.

· Bizarre assortment of C-level celebs at Bar Lubitsch last night (9/26), plus one good one. The C-team: Seth "Family Guy" MacFarlane, the lead singer of Smashmouth (Steve Harwell, and two of the dudes from TBS' "My Boys". ("Brendan" (Reid Scott) and "Kenny" (Michael Bunin), hanging together. life imitating TV art.)

The good one: Drew Barrymore. She's been there a few times lately... with the Mac guy (Justin Long). Didn't see him last night, though. Had a weird feeling when she was standing by our table. I thought, " Who is that? Did I go to high school with that girl? Did we go on a blind date once? Wait, no, it's Drew Barrymore. Right on."

· Saw Dominic Monaghan at the Klaxon's concert at the Henry Fonda (Sept. 26). No girlfriend in sight, but that's probably because she wasn't fired from LOST like he was and is currently filming in Hawaii. Dude is super short - although since he played a hobbit in three movies that's probably too obvious of an observation.

· Last Tuesday Michael Ovitz, wife Judy and three children being congratulated by former CAA cohorts at Ovitz's new restaurant Kumo on Melrose.

· 9/26: Dinner at Canele in Atwater Village, saw John Cho or as my friend who spotted him first put it, "the only Asian actor I recognize, you know, the dude from Harold & Kumar." Ahh... I don't think she watches HEROES. Being 1 and 1/2 asians between the two of us, I replied (silently), "more recognizable roles for Asian-American actors!" Anywho, he's a handsome fellow.

· Saw Dita Von Teese at the Hollywood Bowl Sunday 9/23 for the Rufus Wainwright show (which was amazing). She was waiting in the Will Call line with a less fabulous friend. She looked incredible with perfect hair and make up, and a gorgeous outfit. Unfortunately that outfit covered her well, no free show for us.

· 9/19 7:30pm - Saw Adrian Grenier at LACMA for the Muse reception before the "Into the Wild" screening. He was flanked by two blonde girls who looked like they couldn't tell a Cezanne from a Hockney. He couldn't have cared less about them, choosing instead to direct his attention to the stage where The Good Listeners were performing. He was wearing a black fleece and dark pants, requisite face fuzz, all of which looked good on him. Total cutie.

· Wed, 9/26: The Coronet on La Cienega - Spotted Monica Keena (Dawson's Creek, various guest star roles—she was the girl with the pole through her gut on Grey's Anatomy) sitting at a booth along the bar. Couldn't see who she was with at first, but noticed that she's looking aaaaaaawfully plastic. Remember the 30 Rock episode where Jane Krakowski's character has a ton of work done and Tina Fey goes on about her looking like a burn victim? I feel like a bitch saying it, but poor Monica is approaching that territory. Or maybe she hasn't had any work done and just has a naturally tight skinned-big lipped face! Oh, but then, when she left, I saw she was following David Anders (one of the new Heroes, formerly of Alias) out of the bar. She's very tiny. He's very hot.

· Saw Gregg Araki and James Duval holding court at the Editors show Monday night @ The Wiltern

· Just got back to town and my Internet connection, but did have one very small celebrity sighting to share from a recent trip to Los Angeles. Last Thursday night (9/20), at the Supersuckers gig at the Key Club, just happened to run into Dizzy Reed, keyboard player for Guns and Roses. I know it's not much, but I would hope it's at least a TINY bit more interesting than Nate Corddry or some of the other "who?" I have seen listed in the sightings.

· 2 quasi-celeb sightings in 1 day, although I doubt the first really counts:

Sunday 9/23- a brunching Brandon Davis, famous for being greasy, sleeping with celebutards, and calling Lindsay a "firecrotch", eating with 3 disheveled friends at Mauro's Cafe in Fred Segal. He looked less greasy and bloated than usual. I was sitting next to his table and believe I overheard him talking about a recent visit to the doctor. Draw your own conclusions...

Sunday 9/23- 8 PM
Went out with a few friends for a low-key pastrami-on-rye dinner. Standing with us waiting to be seated was William Mapother- Ethan on Lost and as Tom Cruise's cousin. He was by himself with a stack of magazines and asked to be seated in the back. He was reading intensely the entire time. Very low-key, tall, and better looking than expected. Still creeped me out to come face to face with one of The Others.

· Sep 25 On the JetBlue bus from JFK to Burbank. Danny Bonaduce himself, looking very LA in bestudded jeans, designer tee, and a very, very sparkly rhinestone belt buckle. I had to put my shades on, the glow was so intense. He went to the back of the bus, BTW.