Reason number 4,583 not to go to the ballet: they named Paula Abdul 2007’s “Woman of the Year.” Ballerinas must really dig percocet and Grey Goose. TMZ reports

The former Laker Girl, choreographer and “A.I.” judge has been named the Nevada Ballet Theater’s 2007 “Woman of the Year.” A rep for the Theater said Paula’s “warm personality and talent have touched every aspect of the arts and entertainment world. Paula exemplifies the qualities we look for in an honoree.”

When asked at a press conference how she felt about receiving this honor, Paula Abdul began winking maniacally and gesturing towards the overhead lights. There was a moment of confused silence before a disgusted reporter finally ventured, “Paula, do you even know what fucking day this is?” To which Paula cheerily replied, “Seven!” And then she clapped her hands together and screamed, “Woo! Funky Town!” before she fell out of her chair on stage. True story.

There was plenty of ugly at this year’s Screen Actors Guild Awards. Nothing quite as ugly as Paris Hilton in a top hat crouching over a pisser, but still ugly. I put that picture of Paris up as a palate-cleanser of sorts, so you could refer back to it between photographs of the worst-dressed. It helps to distinguish between “disgustingly vomit-inducingly hideous” and “just an ugly dress.” You know, for perspective.

All the uglies after the jump.

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The Screen Actors Guild Awards, the most useless of the many self-congratulatory Hollywood award shows, was held last night at the Shrine Exposition Center in L.A. One step shy of being “High School Superlatives,” the SAG awards are chosen by fellow celebrity actors and actresses, making them pretty much completely meaningless as far as awards go. But it’s still an excuse for the beautiful and famous to festoon themselves in their red carpet best, and an excuse for me to judge and mock their chosen attire, so I’ll take it any way I can get it. I’ll save the pith and vinegar for the next post and give you the best-dressed first.

For a complete list of nominees and winners, click here, loser. The rest of you, la crème de la crème after the jump.

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Nadia Bjorlin makes the silent “j” so sexy. (UseMyComputer)

Bill O’Reily wants to serve for the Great Satan. (RADAR)

Model Rachel Hunter’s still got it, baby. (Drunken Stepfather)

“Circle Circle Dot Dot,” Jamie Kennedy’s stop motion masterpiece! (YouTube)

Nobody wants to see Kelly Osbourne naked. (popbytes)

Paris Hilton camel toe number 1,963. (IBBB)

Pam Anderson lands perma-bachelor George Clooney. Maybe he’s into Hepatitis C or something. (Gabsmash)

Alyson Hannigan tries her damndest to be sexy. (The Bastardly)

Joel Madden from Good Charlotte and some other douche from a crappy band go at it on tape. Catfight! Catfight! (The Blemish)

Despite the stringent absolutely-positively-no-leaving-’till-you’re-completely-sober policy you usually encounter at a rehab facility, actress Lindsay Lohan has managed to spend more than half of her week-long stay at the Wonderland center out on the town. TMZ reports:

…Sources say [Lindsay's] fellow residents at the Wonderland rehab facility are annoyed that Lindsay is getting special treatment. Lohan, who checked into [Wonderland] days ago, left rehab for day-trips on Monday and Wednesday as well as yesterday. On Monday, Lindsay left for her condo. On Wednesday, spies spotted her at Newsroom Cafe having lunch with friends. And of course, yesterday’s field trip.

Leslie Sloane Zelnik, Lindsay’s high-powered publicist, told TMZ, “This isn’t the Betty Ford Clinic, it’s not a lockdown facility. There is personal time. All these naysayers who keep blogging and speaking out, like the ‘Today’ show, they don’t know what she’s going through, they’re not there. They shouldn’t speak until they’ve gone through something like that.”

Well, I have been through rehab, so I can say whatever the hell I want about it. You know, when I was in there, they never let me lunch with pals or take my Mercedes out for a spin. I had to ask permission to take a dump, for Christ’s sake. I even had to give the security guards blow jobs when I wanted to get out and score a little coke. Oh, wait… it’s all making sense now, isn’t it? Nothing buys you a little “time off for good behavior” like parking on your knees in the men’s bathroom.

Sienna Miller must have been bawling her eyes out at the “Factory Girl” premiere in Santa Barbara yesterday, because about fourteen pounds of mascara and eyeliner seem to have pooled beneath her eyes. That’s a little less of a “smoky eye” and more of what we in the industry call “an unhappy prostitute.” Or “tenth-grade goth chick.” Or the “Jared Leto I-should-have-my-ass-kicked faggot look.” Not a good look for anyone, really, unless you’re a despondent whore who forgot to do her algebra homework and wants to get beat up after sixth period. Then, it’s spot-on.

More of the unhappy prostitute after the jump.

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Actress Nicole Kidman was uninjured in a minor car accident on the set of her new movie yesterday, but who cares about that when eighties hair band Van Halen will be touring with original frontman David Lee Roth! No more Van Hagar, VH purists. The Post-Chronicle reports:

Van Halen’s reunion plans are set in stone. After months of speculation, the group will hit the road this summer (07) with original frontman David Lee Roth and leader Eddie Van Halen’s teenage son Wolfgang on bass. According to billboard.com a contract has already been signed between Van Halen and tour promoter Live Nation, who will produce a 40-date trek, marking Roth’s first dates with his old bandmates in over 20 years.

I just misted my perm with a little more Aqua Net and ripped the sleeves of my t-shirt. Hell, yes! Don’t think I won’t still be taking my power drill to the concerts, though. Roth or not, I still “love my baby’s poundcake.”

There are only three things “khaki” should ever mean to you:

1. UPS driver

2. Navy chief

3. Crocodile Hunter

I don’t see any packages, anchors, or dead Australians — just a lot of khaki and oily skin. Victoria Beckham strikes out again.

More of Posh leaving the Gaultier Show after the jump.

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Britney and her flappy puss bid Isaac Cohen adieu. (Metadish)

Now you can pay to see Paris Hilton’s tits, snatch, and Valtrex prescriptions! Where do I sign up? (About: Gossip)

Don’t forget about the erotic wealth that are Scott Baio’s sex stories! (Seriously? OMG)

Forbes Magazine makes number two on Perez Hilton. No, wait, that’s supposed to be “makes Perez Hilton number two.” My mistake. (A Socialite’s Life)

Jessica Biel’s back on the market! (Egotastic)

Mick Jagger has a tiny wiener — so says Janice Dickinson, and she should know. (CityRag)

Chin-off: Sienna Miller vs. Jay Leno. (Best Week Ever)

“The Agency” takes a hard look at the sexy, coked-up, vomit-inducing world of brokering professional models. (VH1)

A little too much “Sundance” can make your ass go numb. (Pajiba)

A high-ranking Scientology leader is proclaiming actor Tom Cruise to be the new “Christ” of Scientology. According to Britain’s The Sun,

The Mission: Impossible star has been told he has been “chosen” to spread the word of his faith throughout the world.. and leader David Miscavige believes that in future, Cruise will be worshipped like Jesus for his work to raise awareness of the religion.

A source close to the actor said: “Like Christ, he’s been criticised for his views. But future generations will realise he was right.”

I buckled down with a copy of the Bible, and even cross-referenced it with the Greek Septuagint for thoroughness, and I couldn’t find a single scripture in which Tom Cruise was analogous to Jesus Christ. It would seem that there just aren’t any passages that have the Messiah getting pounded in the ass by another dude. Weird, I know. And I double-checked, just to make sure — the bleeding anal fissures that result from a night of gay intercourse can’t be considered stigmata, either, in that Jesus never actually took it in the pooper. Sorry to disappoint, folks, but it’s all right there in the good book.

A couple of shots after the jump of wife Mary Magdelene Katie Holmes at the Giorgio Armani show in Paris yesterday. Apparently Tom isn’t the only one wearing shaping garments in the family! Woo, woo!

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Depite Jessica Simpson joining new “boyfriend” John Mayer on his tour in Florida, it seems that their kinda-sorta-not-really relationship has already begun to fizzle. Page Six reports:

Jessica Simpson and John Mayer’s dates may be more fun for the paparazzi than for the couple. Spies at Nobu in South Beach [said] that, despite the ruckus caused by their entrance, the two barely spoke on their Tuesday night date. “John was extremely quiet and didn’t speak a lot,” said a source, while Jessica “just gave a lot of puppy-dog looks and twirled and twisted her hair.”

That doesn’t strike me one bit as disconcerting. “Making puppy dog faces” and “twirling her hair” is pretty much status quo for Jessica Simpson. Also “being mystified by her own reflection” and “blinking at bright shapes and colors.” I’d say it’s a good sign for the couple if she’s not wearing a helmet and tied to the water fountain with a leash.

More of the couple’s saggy-tittied date at Nobu after the jump.

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You may have noticed that model-turned-mogul Tyra Banks has been looking a tad “zaftig” lately. After an unflattering shot of her in a bathing suit deemed her “Tyra Porkchop” and “Fatty Fatty Boombalatty” in the tabloids and gossip blogs, Ms. Banks finally decided to address her newfound weight gain. People magazine reveals:

As for how Banks feels about her own 5′10″ body – which she says is at 161 lbs. these days, about 30 lbs. heavier than when she landed on the cover of Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issue in 1997 – she says: “I still feel hot, but every day is different. It’s when I put on the jeans that used to fit a year ago and don’t fit now and give me the muffin top, that’s when I say, ‘Damn!’”

In other words, yes: She has put on weight. In fact, Banks says that since she retired from modeling in 2005, the number on the scale has fluctuated from 148 lbs. to 162 lbs. “I feel more comfortable when I’m lighter – I sleep better, I snore less…” she admits. [But it would appear] that by adding a little padding, Banks the businesswoman has earned a bit of credibility: Her talk show is now entering its second season, and the most recent season of Top Model delivered its strongest ratings ever. “(TV execs) think it’s better when I’m at 155 lbs. – at 145, they feel I’m not as relatable,” she explains.

What kind of bizarro world do we live in when fat people are embraced instead of eschewed? Don’t think for a minute that the word “chew” being embedded in the verb “eschew” is any coincidence. I’m sure there are more like that, but I couldn’t find another word for “shun” that had the word “cheesecake-gobbling-glutton” inside of it. There’s probably one in French or something.