Oh look, there's video! Always seems to be, huh? The Sun, chronicler of the ages, tells us that Casey Affleck, Joaquin's brother-in-law and potential partner in hoaxery, was also in the crowd, filming away for this alleged documentary. The whole thing looks pretty staged—from Phoenix bragging about his millions of dollars in the bank, to the completely unsurprised and calm look on his face as he sets his mic down on the stage and heads into the audience for a bout of fisticuffs.

The audience was eating it up, chanting "Beat him up! Beat him up!", so that must have felt nice for Phoenix. No matter how out-to-lunch on various handfuls of drugs he may be, which Phoenix undoubtedly is, a performer still enjoys, nay requires!, the love of a sweaty, heaving audience. So even if it's a tiresome, indulgent meta joke, we're all at fault for perpetuating what has become an all too real and sad personal history.

Boomp3.com

A VIP host at the Venetian Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas made a quick phone call to reinstate his gym membership after hanging out with actor Ryan Phillippe poolside this weekend. The host was overheard as to have said, "I know that I canceled my membership three weeks. I know that ... Well, I just spent the last twenty minutes staring at the glistening abs of Ryan Phillippe ... He was in a bunch of movies ... Yeah, he was married to Reese Witherspoon ... Great guy, but you try standing next to him when he's not wearing a shirt ... Exactly ... Cool. Personal trainer. She's going to be hot, right? I mean, you can tell me. Okay, cool. See you tomorrow then."

[Photo Credit: Bauer-Griffin]

*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.

1) More Tips On Downsizing Prepubescent Son’s Balls! Simple, really: assign them the task of assisting your blatant famewhoredom, ignoring how obviously disinterested they are in participating, then follow up by denying you ever enlisted their help whatsoever. Most importantly, perform this task on television.

2) Repeatedly Remind Fragile Tween Daughter Just How Big Of A Failure She Is! With no call-backs or word from producers regarding Ali’s non-existent and doomed career as a white rapper, Dina reminds Ali that she only had “one shot and you don’t blow it.” Insinuating, of course, that she blew it. Resolution? Tell her to go ahead and be “a little girl.” Then proceed to make the easily influenced Ali jealous of your own fantastic body by subtly sauntering up to her after a work-out and displaying just how much hotter your abs are than hers.

3) Fix Your Kids’ Sour Moods (Caused By You, Naturally) By Embarrassing Yourself In Public! And what better way for Dina to do the above than “dance” in her own Vegas performance, failing to actually put any of those Rockette Lies to rest at all. And no, that wasn’t just your screen — Dina really did just use Bring It On’s guaranteed-to-fail Jazz Hands move. More than once. But as long as your kids are mortified by you, you’ve sacrificed your own dignity to make ‘em laugh. Like hyenas. At you. Success!

• LIVING LOHAN [E!]

Please know that from here on out, most links will be NSFW, as are the images after the jump.

So that picture of me above with that sex doll? That's a knock-off of a Real Doll. They are $5,000 (about $1,500 less than a Real Doll), and it's really obviously a jankier version. Some random dude walked over to us as I was feeling her up and he said, "Looks like my ex-wife. She couldn't cook, but man could she fuck." And then he walked away. I'm thinking those sort of one-way, TMI conversations with strangers is fairly commonplace here.

The lady working the booth wouldn't let me touch the doll's face, but I touched its "breast" instead and found out that it's made out of sticky material. (Either that or someone's already had their way with her). After we walked away from that booth, Jonno pulled out some Purell and I thought, "Oh, damn, good idea."

We turned the corner and saw the real Real Doll booth. The skin on the samples they had around were much smoother. It's kind of amazing to see them in real life, because they're just too realistic. Even the half-body versions were confusing me in my peripheral vision; I kept thinking they were people staring at me. And this display caught my eye:

You can swap out the peens for different lengths and girths, depending on your mood, I guess. When I saw all of them together I couldn't help but think about how everyone always raves about the buffets in Vegas.

Oh and this is the face of the doll that was featured in Lars and the Real Girl. (Not to be a square or a whatevs, but that poster of Ryan Gosling did a lot more for me and my vagina than anything else I'd seen on the floor today.)

There isn't much of a gay presence this year at the convention (or says Jonno, my tour guide), but I did meet these dudes from Naked Swords, an on-demand video site. Check out that bulge in the pants of the tan dude on the left.

Oh, so I've only got one toy so far. They wouldn't give it to me for free to test and review, but I got one for wholesale. It's called the Fukuoku Five-Finger Massage Glove. An older woman dressed as a cop with a badge that read "Sexy" used it on my back and it felt like heaven (I'll let you know how it feels on my vagina as soon as a I get a minute alone), while an older dude dressed in hospital scrubs was demonstrating an electric toothbrush vibrator on my neck and arms. He was a close talker. Oh, and then I caught what his hospital scrubs said:

That's "pussy shaver" in case you aren't able to make it out.

We didn't do the whole floor today, since we still have all day tomorrow. We were kinda exhausted and hungry and had a bit of mall head. But just outside the convention center, in the hallway, I saw these women, who were AWESOME.

They aren't working a booth or with any company. They independently put out a DVD, the name of which I never caught. And they were a lot of fun. I went to take a picture of them, and some hotel security woman came over to me and was like, "No pictures in the hallway." The girl on the far right was like, "She can take a picture of me if she want. Go 'head, baby. Snap. Snap-snap. Snap it, girl."

Tonight we're going to a Village Voice/Babeland party, so I'll be reporting back from that. I'll also be posting some fashion galleries tomorrow. I'm praying that I get into some major shit tonight. I'm thinking it won't be too hard to achieve. Anyway, this is just the introduction to my Vegas Diary. Now that I've got all the boring shit out of the way, we can delve into the debauchery tomorrow.

Oh, and as I sign off, here is the view from my room:

Rita Rudner! Her eyes are freaking me out.

Earlier: All Dolled Up With No Place To Go

• Britney collapses at New Year's party [LV Review Journal]
• Swoon City for boozy Britney [NY Daily News]
• Spears falls asleep in Vegas nightclub [AP]

Several people correctly pointed out that one of Ephron's sons, Jacob Bernstein (from a previous marriage to Watergate reporter Carl Bernstein), is known for having supposedly leaked the identity of Watergate source "Deep Throat" while a nine-year-old at summer camp. Ergo, he's got a leaky history. Plus, he's also said to be great friends with Page Six's Paula Froelich. Other contestants preferred Georgette Mosbacher, redheaded Republican CEO of beauty corp Borghese, as the likely leak — she's besties with Page Six editor Richard Johnson. Barbara Walters explicitly denied being the leaker yesterday on The View, which could just be her way of throwing us off the trail. And just for kicks, one commenter pointed the finger at art dealers Serge and Tatiana Sorokko, presumably because they'd be aghast at Wynn's brutal treatment of his Picasso. Four suspects seems plenty, don't you think? So pick your perp.

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Earlier: Who Leaked Steve Wynn's Picasso Attack?

Clooney, who is investing millions of his own money in a $3 billion hotel and condo complex called Las Ramblas, has floated the idea of having a dress code in the casino similar to those enforced in many European casinos. [...]

"It doesn't make that much sense to me," said Jeff Voyles, a casino management instructor at the William F. Harrah College of Hotel Administration at UNLV. "I think they have hotel, condo and real estate guys giving them advice rather than gaming guys."

"You can't achieve the revenue you need (to make a casino profitable) by narrowing your focus," said Voyles, a casino executive at MGM Mirage. "Do you know how many millionaires are walking around Las Vegas wearing jeans and polo shirts? You cannot tell somebody who is 35 to 45 years old, very successful and makes a quarter of a million dollars per year that he has to wear a jacket."

A quarter of a million dollars a year? Clooney finds a forgotten half-mil in the pocket of his bathrobe on the way to the shower. At the Las Ramblas, people in the 250K tax bracket will be affixing those sanitary paper strips across the toilet bowls, wistfully imagining what it would be like to sip a stiff martini with the well-dressed high rollers at the craps table. This project isn't about making money, it's about class, about the spirit of Old Vegas. If Clooney and his pals were merely concerned with maximizing profits, would they be building incredibly expensive animatronic replicas of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra to prowl the casino floor, weaving from table to table and cold-cocking any mouthy gambler bold enough to complain when they get fresh with their tomatoes girlfriends? We think not.

• Dress code idea for planned casino could get cold shoulder [Las Vegas Sun]
• Previously: George Clooney Makes Casino Ownership Sounds So Easy [Defamer]

The idea of actually owning a casino came out of conversations between Clooney and [nightlife impresario Rande] Gerber when the actor was staying at the Bellagio filming "Ocean's Eleven," which came out in 2001. Clooney said the friends thought it would be "cool" to own something like the Bellagio, although much smaller and tailored to their own tastes.

Of course, like bedding struggling actresses and making macho guy-guy chemistry seem not so gay, it's never as effortless as Clooney makes it appear. His buddy's a connected multimillionaire nightclub owner who porks Cindy Crawford. After you and your pal finishing sighing into free vodka tonics and start brainstorming plans for a Playboy Mansion-themed casino, you hit on 17, lose the last of this month's rent money, then go home to pleasure yourselves to an escort handbill. (Not the same one, we hope.)

• George Clooney Making a Side Bet in Vegas [LAT]
• Clooney Bets on New Las Vegas Resort [AP]
• Pitt And Clooney, The New Kings Of Vegas [Defamer]