Katy Perry is all in a tizzy because someone dared to suggest that she may have been getting cozy with Twilight star Robert Pattinson. Says NineMSN,

The wide-eyed popette was outraged to hear rumours she had been “flirting outrageously” with Twilight’s Robert Pattinson at an LA karaoke bar, after which she apparently left with him in the same car.

“Read a bunch of yesterdays news – B**LOCKS,” she Twittered.

“Ppl should know by now that I don’t do vampires, but I do DO @rustyrockets [Brand's Twitter username]. Don’t get it TWISTED!”

Now, I’m no squealing fan of Robert Pattinson, but I’d take it as a step up to be associated with him rather than oily-looking, hairy, looks-like-a-cult-leader Russell Brand. Plus the fact that he’s put his slimy sausage into every available orifice that he’s run across. He’s probably breeding his own special Brand of an STD. Brand-get it? Ha ha. I amuse myself greatly.

Adam Lambert wants you to know that his father is totally cool with his son’s simulated oral sex and S&M-laden shitty performance at the American Music Awards. Don’t you wish your dad was that hip and with it? MTV.com goes on,

The “Idol” runner-up also took some time to clear up rumors that have been floating around about him. “I haven’t started a makeup line. I might, but I haven’t yet,” he said. “My father was rumored to be mortified by what I did [at the 'American Music Awards'] and that we’re not speaking. That’s a rumor. … I think Bill O’Reilly perpetuated that. Lovely man. Everyone’s entitled to their opinion. [My dad and I] were laughing about it … so that was a rumor.”

Dad’s a real pal. I bet he washes his butt plugs for him and everything.

Here he is at the Z100 Jingle Ball, looking like a complete tool.

Lindsay Lohan’s swath of freckled destruction and epic failure continue! Rooting herself more firmly onto the “Do Not Invite” list, her supposed talks about joining the House of Ungaro has the current head designer threatening to leave if he catches wind of her. The New York Post reports,

Lohan is in Paris, according to multiple sources, talking to the House of Emanuel Ungaro about signing on as a “creative consultant” for the fashion line. But the current head designer of Ungaro, Esteban Cortazar, is not greeting the rehabbed starlet with open arms.

“Esteban is threatening to leave the company if they bring Lindsay on as a consultant,” said a fashion insider. “It has been a revolving door of designers there and if he leaves, his team will go with him.”

Ungaro owner Asim Abdullah signed Colombian-born Cortazar in 2007 at the age of 23. The young designer put his own line — which he’d launched in 2002 — on hold to join the troubled Ungaro house, and received warm reviews for the first Ungaro runway collection he debuted in March of last year.

Meanwhile Lohan, between a series of box-office bombs and highly publicized romances, has dabbled in fashion by designing a line of leggings and launching her own spray tan.

According to our source, “Ungaro thinks Lindsay is going to bring the company new energy and new buzz, but she is going to be the nail in the coffin. Nobody will take them seriously ever again.”

A rep for the House of Ungaro did not return our calls or e-mails. A lawyer for Cortazar had “no comment.”

Dabbled in fashion? Leggings are two pieces of fabric sewn together, usually with only one seam. They don’t even have to be cut specially to fit the body since they’re made of freaking spandex. It’s not rocket science, people. I’m pretty sure if I gave the local adult day care center some spandex, a sewing machine, and a Bedazzler, you’d get better shit than she can put out.

Sam Ronson and Lindsay arriving at Sam’s house at 2:45 AM:

Paris Hilton’s reps are denying the heiress is pregnant after pictures of her with a protruding belly sparked baby rumors yesterday. London’s The Sun says

Many websites claimed Paris is sporting a mini baby bump underneath her floaty green dress. But the party girl’s representatives have been quick to deny she’s pregnant, insisting these claims are “completely false”.

Of course she’s not pregnant. No sperm could survive in that kind of hostile environment more than ten minutes. Fifteen, tops. I’d be willing to bet that if you looked inside her vagina a half hour after intercourse, there’d just be a lot of bubbling and hissing sounds, like you were frying bacon in hydrochloric acid. And you might see occasional shriveled and disfigured spermatozoa emerge from the mist, rattling chains and moaning like some kind of a seminal Jacob Marley on Christmas Eve, and right in front of the cervix would be a hand-lettered sign that read “The End Is Near — John 3:16.” You’d be better off spilling your seed in a ten-gallon drum of radioactive waste than dropping a load in Paris Hilton. At least your baby has a chance of turning out to be a superhero that way.