Daywalkers.

Okay, okay, okay. I'm back, after a long move to a faraway city and a busy search for income. Ladies and gents, the economy thrives! Ye unemployed, merely turn your eyes to Craigslist, a wonderland of opportunity! What recession?

Anyway, I'd like to thank Lord Jesus for throwing me into the deep end of the celebrity gossip pool without my swimmies. Mark Sanford was enough material for a whole week; but Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays and MICHAEL JACKSON? Thanks for the leap of faith, big guy, but I'm going to pass on this one. Watch CNN or something.

I prefer to focus on more, how should I put this... relevant celebrities. Like Jon Gosselin, for example. He's classic, like a Rolex watch. If you happen to have bought that watch in a basement on Canal Street, right next to the airbrushed t-shirt of Tupac. Just the other day, Gosselin was spotted meeting with Christian Audigier (of Ed Hardy fame) while in France with his girlfriend-on-the-side-of-the-side, Hailey Glassman. The couple became acquainted through Hailey's father, the surgeon who turned water into wine performed Kate's tummytuck.

Somebody must have spread word that babies dressed in eagles and rhinestones are total poon-magnets, because Gosselin is teaming up with Glassman and Audigier to design what promises to be it in this year's BabyDouche collection: a line of Ed Hardy clothing for children. In his tireless pursuit of the Father of the Year Award, Jon has nominated none other than The Eight to model the finished products. I managed to get a hold of a prototype earlier:


Social stigma is so the new size zero.

Speaking of the premature midlife crises, how about ol' Brit-Brit? The brown hair is BACK and it wants men for dinner, with a side of Frappucino and a few Xenadrine. So what does a breakdown in one's early 30s look like? I have constructed a venn diagram to aid my discussion:



The best advice I can give is this: if you notice your thirty-year-old friend is beginning to sport a tie-dyed studded t-shirt with "LIVE FREE OR DIE" smeared across the chest, come prepared. His transformation into the snarling, lusting, Red Bull-slurping monster will occur at midnight of the next full moon. He can only be stopped by Marlboro Reds and a check-in at the Promises Rehabilitation Clinic. Or Tyra.