You’ll remember Bo Derek’s braids and bathing suit from the iconic movie “Ten.” And now here’s the Courtney Stodden version, “Maybe a Six in Bar Lighting.”

The sexual assault and battery lawsuit that Masseur Number 2 filed against John Travolta last week won’t be going to trial, not because it’s baseless and without merit, but because both he and Travolta have agreed the case should be heard in mediation. And what does mediation entail, exactly? I’m glad you asked. Radar Online says:

“Both sides will agree to keep all transcripts sealed, as well as all witness statements, depositions, etc. The lawsuit will be heard by a private judge, who will decide how much money if any the accuser will receive. All of the proceedings will be strictly confidential.

This is done for a plethora of reasons, mainly, this will allow the masseur’s identity from being made public, and it would just be a media circus if it did go to trial. This will be the best way for the case to be heard with minimal disruption to John Travolta and the masseur’s life.”

And just as a recap, masseur number 2′s suit alleges:

While working at an unspecified resort in Atlanta, January 28, 2012, Doe Plantiff No. 2 did an in-room massage on Travolta, as the massage came to an end “Travolta suddenly turned on his stomach with his legs wide open with a full erection. He then tried to force Doe Plaintiff No. 2′s hand on Travolta’s scrotum.

Then, Travolta started to grab, rub and caress Doe Plaintiff no. 2′s upper thighs and buttocks….Travolta still had an erection and wanted his abdominals done, but Travolta’s erection was in the way and he refused to have his penis covered by a sheet of a pillow case cover…Travolta started masturbating about 15 minutes left in the session, and Doe Plaintiff No.2, said he had to go.”

It’s a tale as old as time. Boy meets man, man gets massage, man tries to make boy touch his scrotum and then jerks off when boy refuses. I think we’ve all been to sleep-away camp before.

To un-gay this post, some candids Sports Illustrated covergirl Kate Upton took during her SI shoot:

Statistics indicate you’re more likely to encounter an Asian Crested Ibis on your way to work than see Lindsay Lohan in a bra, but lo and behold, she’s actually wearing one in these pictures. That probably means odds are good that one of us is getting struck by lightning this afternoon.

In L.A. on Friday afternoon:

Sorry about the erratic posting today and yesterday. I didn’t want to tell you this, because I know how you worry, but… I was the victim of a hate crime. Yes. Two nights ago after I did a pub crawl with a couple of friends, someone broke into my house, overturned several pieces of furniture, put frozen lasagna still in the box in the oven on broil, which ultimately set fire to the kitchen. They also pissed in my bed and barfed in my hair. If that’s not a hate crime, I don’t know what is. Somehow I slept through the whole thing, so I assume they were ninjas or maybe Navy SEALs.

Anyway, I’m gonna post tomorrow, too, to make up for the lack of consistent snark, so check back. I also have more pics of former Playboy model Shauna Sand out on the beach, totally blowing some guy and then fucking him right there in front of the paparazzi on the beach. I don’t think her daughters will be as ashamed of their mother’s whoring as much as they’re ashamed that she would fuck a guy wearing acid-washed daisy dukes. I doubt they’ll ever fully recover.

UPDATE: Now with twice the denim hot pants fun!

In case the giant stars didn’t tip you off, these pics are so, SO NSFW:

I promised yesterday that I wouldn’t talk any more about the Met Gala, but then I found these pictures of Gwyneth Paltrow in a bonafide mullet dress with half her tit hanging out, and now here we are, talking about the Met Gala again. Okay, so I lied to you. Big deal. People lie all the time. Like when they told you those pants didn’t make your ass look huge, for instance. Get used to it.

There’s been much speculation that squeaky-clean country star Taylor Swift got her boobs done after photos of her looking decidedly bustier (before pic for comparison) surfaced online last week. See, this is exactly why I don’t wear low-cut dresses. Or ever go outside. People are always trying to take pictures of your tits and put them on the internet. Plus, with their infinitely superior technology, it’s almost impossible to distinguish the alien cyborgs from the real humans anymore.

The only way you could make a video of this year’s Sports Illustrated cover girl Kate Upton dancing in a bikini unsexy is if you threw in some footage of a creepy balding sex offender and shot it the living room of his dead grandmother’s home. And here I mean “dead grandmother” in the “bludgeoned to death with her own oxygen tank and buried her under the floorboards” sense of the word, because Terry Richardson is a fucking weirdo. The video looks like something that Detectives Stabler and Benson would turn over as evidence to the prosecution on an episode of SVU.

There was something different about 32-year-old Rosario Dawson at the 98th Annual White House Correspondents Association dinner this weekend, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Mostly because putting a finger on it would have violated the restraining order and ergo the terms of my probation, and God knows I can’t afford another strike. It’s not like I live in Los Angeles or have the last name “Lohan.” Radar Online’s plastic surgeon-on-tap Dr. Anthony Youn says:

“Comicon hottie Rosario Dawson appears to have grown super heroine-sized breasts. Her chest size looks like it’s gone from a B to a D, likely from a set of large breast implants…. if her surgery was recent, it’s possible her breasts will settle down a bit.”

Any doctor who prefaces his professional medical opinion with the words “Comicon hottie” deserves to be taken out back and flogged with his own medical degree. I just assume it’s printed on bamboo and held together with clay and twine and other equally valuable third-world-island commodities gathered near his alma mater.

Mustachioed behemoth Rosie O’Donnell was on the Today Show this week as part of the Today’s Professionals segment, and comments that she made about Lindsay Lohan’s downward spiral and Lifetime’s mistake casting her as Elizabeth Taylor in their new movie “Liz & Dick” had people so fired up that the Today Show brought her back today to defend her stance — namely that Lindsay Lohan is a fucking trainwreck caught in the dregs of addiction who hasn’t had a decent movie out “Mean Girls” opened 96 months ago. USA Today says:

Rosie stuck to her opinion about Lohan, recalling her as a “beautiful, talented little kid,” when she was doing Parent Trap. And then, “We’ve all seen what’s happened in the last decade and it’s tragic.”

“Listen, I’m 50 years old, and watching Whitney Houston’s funeral I remember thinking why didn’t more people say what they knew. We all knew. When she would not show up to do this show, not show up to my show. We watched Being Bobby Brown. It was like watching Sid and Nancy. They were people in the throes of addiction. But all we cared about was the ratings, not that this talented individual, this human being, this mother, this daughter, was worth saving and pulling out of the money market industry and I know only someone can be in control of their own sobriety, but to look at Lindsay Lohan you cannot help but feel for her. I do not think she’s untalented. I think she’s quite talented.”

And what does Lindsay think about Rosie’s completely factual and accurate statements about the current state of her career? See if you can guess:

Lohan isn’t too worried about Rosie’s rant. “I know that I’m great,” she told Access Hollywood. “I know Liz Taylor really well and we shared some makeup artists … same hairstylist. We’ve worked with a lot of the same people.”

With such a profound personal connection — makeup AND hair stylists! — they’re practically the same person. Except, you know, Elizabeth Taylor has two Academy Awards and a Screen Actors Guild’s Life Achievement Award, and all Lindsay has to show for the last six years is 10 Razzies and the herpes simplex virus. The same, only different.

Sonya’s in till Tuesday while I do some court-ordered drying out of my liver, but in the meantime, enjoy 90′s Victoria’s Secret model Stephanie Seymour in a see-through dress at the Tribeca Film Festival, because I’m a giver:

You know what they say — April showers bring May boners! And believe me, that hurt me more than it hurt you. Now go to your room and think about what you’ve done.

Minka Kelly and her wares :

Something called Retro Space unearthed a 32-year-old Victoria’s Secret catalog which is NOTHING like the current incarnation, most notably because it features un-airbrushed women without overinflated lips and breast implants and twenty-five pounds of hair extensions. The Daily Mail says:

Unlike the marketing imagery we see today, the ’79 cast of models have uneven skin tones, slight love handles and even sagging breasts.

Muscle lines – which would normally be softened – are prominent, waists are not carved away, and tan lines, nipples and even pubic hair are visible.

It’s so nice to see a real woman. Today’s Angels look more like the cloners on Kamino than anything that could actually bear children. And that’s what it’s ultimately all about, isn’t it? It just never sounds as sexy when you frame it along the lines of the biological imperative.

When I say “topless model jumping up and down on the beach,” a haughty women’s fashion magazine wouldn’t be the first periodical to come to mind. Yet there Bar Refeali is in all her naked bouncy toplessness in the April edition of Elle Espana. Don’t get me wrong — I’m all for buoyant naked supermodels and shameless pandering — but Elle magazine’s target demographic is women aged 18 – 49. That makes about as much sense as a bunch of pics of a man in a banana hammock with a perfectly waxed chest in “Field & Stream.”

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