Someone* sent me these pictures of what is supposed to be George Clooney’s new girlfriend Elisabetta Canalis topless. Now, I can’t vouch for their authenticity, because half the pictures don’t even look like the same girl and her nipples look completely different in every shot. I’m talking size, color, Montgomery tubercles density — the works. But one thing I do know is that she played a nun who shows her tits in some movie called “Virgin Territory,” and frankly, that’s all the proof I needed to go ahead and run with it. Also, there were boobs. If it’s fancy “accuracy” and “facts” you want, I’m pretty sure that dude from PBS has a blog.

_{*Alert reader DeezNuts. Thank you from the back of my tonsils!}

Meet George Clooney’s latest conquest, MTV Italy TRL host Elisabetta Canalis. George was photographed canoodling with the 30-year old in Rome over the weekend. It’s great, I suppose, if you’re into the whole “super-flexible swimsuit model” thing. Personally, it’s not really my cup of tea. I think “Rubenesque gossip blogger/Star Wars buff with a barely-noticeable limp” would be a way better match for the Silver Fox. Call me, George!

PHOTO SOURCE: Bauer-Griffin

This is George Clooney’s latest floozy.  It should shock no one to learn that she’s a cocktail waitress, although at least this one doesn’t have my name, thank God.  No, this one’s name is Lucy Wolvert.  She’s from Miami and she’s 23 (Clooney, by the way, is 48).  She’s an “aspiring model” (translation: starfucker) and she has a MySpace which she hasn’t updated since 2006 and is mostly all about how in love she is with some frat-looking dude named Landon.  She seems like she’s pretty much clinically retarded, which incidentally appears to be exactly Clooney’s type.

George Clooney is coming to the legal defense of Cindy Crawford’s husband’s Rande Gerber, who is currently embroiled in a sexual assault lawsuit filed by a pair of former waitresses who claim they were 86ed from his restaurant after refusing his sexual advances. According to Us Weekly

While working at [Gerber's] Moonstone Lounge in San Diego, one of the women claims the supermodel’s husband attempted to kiss her three times during the night, then “put his hand up [her] dress in between her legs in an attempt to fondle her crotch.”

“I was with Rande the entire night — as were a lot of people,” [Clooney] said in a statement Monday. “They will all say the same thing that I’m saying. This event never happened. Period.”

A Gerber Group spokesperson [said] “Mr. Gerber and Mr. Clooney will take lie detector tests to prove that the allegations against Mr. Gerber are false.”

That Gerber fellow better pray that his judge is a woman, because everybody knows that no female mortal can resist the mischievous grin and smoldering eyes of the Silver-Haired Rake. His mere presence makes bras spontaneously unhook themselves and panties disappear into thin air. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up on the floor of a Toledo airport bar bathroom without any underpants to speak of. It’s just a shame that I always somehow manage to miss actually seeing him when he’s there.

Wife Cindy looking gorgeous at the Costume Gala Institute last night:

If you doubted for a second that the folks at PETA were absolutely batshit insane, here’s one for you: CloFu! NY Daily News breaks down the insanity:

Someone sent PETA a towel soaked in the actor’s perspiration – apparently picked up at a Washington D.C. gym – and now the organization has proposed using some sort of new-fangled gastronomic technology to convert the scent into a flavor.

PETA’s president sent Clooney a letter seeing if he’d support the idea, to which the actor replied, “As a mammal, I’m offended,” in an interview with the Washington Post.

The animal rights group’s president believes the allure of the hunky actor’s aroma might draw new fans for tofu – which PETA says is often falsely accused of being bland.

“We believe CloFu would be delicious served by itself or over rice with a light soy sauce and sautéed collards, in a casserole with melted vegan cheese and olives,” said PETA head Ingrid Newkirk.

PETA also believes that it’s better for people to die from AIDS and other deadly illnesses than to use effing rats to test pharmaceuticals, so I’d take any culinary suggestions from them with a 2-ton block of salt. Futards.

Big news today for “E.R.” fans — George Clooney will be returning for the show’s big finale. According to People Magazine

Sources [say] that ER co-creator John Wells has ordered a closed set to keep Clooney’s appearance under wraps. It’s not known how many episodes will feature Clooney as the show films its final season.

I was so excited when I heard this. Finally, an actor worthy enough to wear the bejeweled belt of Beloth the Wise! Someone with enough emotional depth to play Murtagh, son of Morzan, last of the Forsworn! You know, because the first movie sucked so hard. But then my mom told me that “E.R.” stood for “Emergency Room,” not for “Eragon Returns,” and that I should get a job and get off the goddamn computer already. She may have bested me this time, but she will never learn my true name in the ancient language and be able to control my life! Victory is mine!

On the set of “Men Who Stare at Goats”:

Silver-haired rake George Clooney has once again found his way back to ex-girlfriend Krista Allen of “Baywatch” and “Emmanuelle” fame. My guess is that his penis led the way. For those of you counting, this would be their third attempt in less than six years. According to Rush and Molloy

Their on-and-off long-running romance began in 2002. George and Krista dated for close to two years till Allen broke it off in March 2004. Then he and Krista tried again in 2006. After that, he dated Sarah Larson for most of a year.

Throughout, says a friend, “Krista just can’t get over him.” And something about Krista brings him back.

And I have a hunch that “something” isn’t her secret recipe for Beef Wellington or her infectious joie de vivre. Unless “Beef Wellington” is slang for “vagina” and “joie de vivre” is a fancy way of saying “boobies boobies boobs boobs boobs,” in which case I’d say it’s definitely her Beef Wellington and her joie de vivre.

George Clooney’s yacht stands an impressive 175 feet long, regularly makes stops along the French Riviera, and comes equipped with supermodel Cindy Crawford lounging around topless. My ‘84 Chevy Caprice, on the other hand, has an analog tape deck, a gear shift held together with duct tape, and a distinctive odor from the “red beans and rice” incident my freshman year. But I didn’t pay $120 million dollars for it, so in your fucking face, George Clooney!

Pull out your push-ups, ladies — George Clooney is single again! People Magazine reports

George Clooney and his girlfriend Sarah Larson have split up after a year of dating. Though there was speculation that Clooney would end his longtime bachelorhood, in March the actor shot down rumors of an engagement.

Well, it’s like they say — “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” Especially when there’s a whole dairy farm full of nubile young cows with big fake udders who’ll let you tag team with your best buddy anytime you want. That doesn’t fly in all fifty states, of course, but you’re cool if you stick with Arkansas and West Virginia. That’s why they call those states “The Velvet Underground,” if you know what I mean. Wink, wink.

Check out George’s new fake teeth after the jump

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Recognize the chick on all fours tonguing the magazine laying on the ground? I didn’t think you would. The above photo is one of many less-than-demure shots of George Clooney’s girlfriend Sarah Larson, a “model” from Vegas, taken a month after they were first introduced. Star Magazine says

“She’s been described as having a successful runway and print modeling career. But until recently, her “modeling career” consisted mostly of being paid by promoters… to attend special events in sexy outfits and party with her wild girlfriends! Sarah… loves to drink. She likes to get wasted when she goes out.”

And therein lies the rub, ladies. Despite a man’s willingness to drop $29.95 and two hours on a Saturday watching footage of young coeds exposing their breasts and soaping each other up in front of an audience of intoxicated post-pubescent males, the response is decidedly less positive when said footage includes you. Especially if he is unaware said footage existed beforehand. Doubly especially if said footage may or may not have been filmed while he was holed up in your honeymoon suite with a case of the shits while you “went for a nature tour to Chichen Itza.” Trust me, “I was in college” and “Me no hablo ingles” will only work so many times before they start demanding paternity tests again.

More NSFW pictures here.

It really got ugly when George Clooney ran into his best friend Brad Pitt’s ex-wife Jennifer Aniston outside Bar Nineteen12 at the Night Before gala in Beverly Hills on Saturday. And by “got ugly” I mean “she sprinted away huffily.” Take that, you silver-haired rake! OK! Magazine says

“George attempted to be friendly, but Jen wasn’t having it,” one eyewitness tells OK!. “After enduring a few minutes of the actor’s presence, Jen turned on her heels and made a beeline for the Sunset Ballroom.” Courtney, naturally joined Jen, leaving… husband David [Arquette] to make awkward small talk with George.

Nothing shows somebody who’s boss like running away from them. Like France in World War II or my birth father when I was four, it’s the only way to truly convey what a sniveling little coward you are. Wetting your pants and screaming for mommy comes in at a distant second.

I know when I think “Fabio,” the first thing that comes to mind is “a good ass-kicking.” Apparently, it’s the same for George Clooney, too. According to Page Six

On Friday, Clooney and gal pal Sarah Larsen were having dinner at L.A. eatery Madeo next to Fabio and a group of women. All was well until one of Fabio’s pals started taking pictures of her friends. According to numerous eyewitnesses, Clooney, assuming the woman was taking snaps of him, asked her to stop - prompting Fabio to explain that the shots were of his group, not Clooney, and to tell the superstar, “Stop being a diva.” Clooney started arguing back, and he and Fabio then got into a shoving match. “The waiters broke it up before it got out of hand,” a witness told In Touch. Clooney then paid his check and left before finishing his meal. According to another In Touch witness, “George looked annoyed when Fabio went to his table. George stood up, dropped the F-bomb and then went to push him . . . George was drinking . . . He wasn’t drunk, but he certainly wasn’t stone sober, either.” Fabio’s manager told the magazine, “George is lucky he didn’t end up in the ER.”

To which George Clooney replied, “Ah, but I was on ER!” There was a moment of confused silence and a couple of indignant mane tosses. Then Fabio’s left eye began to twitch. All he managed to get out was a frantic “I khant bayleeve ees naught buttah!” before his finally head exploded in a mist of bronzer and Axe deodorant body spray. See, that’s what you call “winning a war with words,” my friends. Infinitely better than “winning a diploma from your six-week anger management course.” At least that’s what my parole officer keeps telling me.

A little George in some stills from Ocean’s 13 for the ladies because I hate him with that beard he’s got now: