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Celebs Gone Wild!


E! Online Photo

Thu Jun 16, 1:36 AM ET

 

Celebs Gone Wild!

Everybody knows this hookup with Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise is absolutely embryonic when compared with the dissolution of the dynamic duo formerly known as Brad and Jennifer, right? Right.

But let's give these overjazzed couples a friggin' rest (for a coupla damn paragraphs at least) and focus our jaded attention on the elegant do Sandra Bullock 'n' Jesse James are cookin' up for the summer. Sound familiar? Gosh, wonder why? In Santa Barbara, natch, where J.Lo was hoping to spit those sappy vows out to Ben Affleck.

It seems Sandy-pants has a much tighter grip on Jesse's you-know-what region and is steering her hog-revving baddie toy toward more megaswank 'n' satin ways for the naughty nuptials. Oui, J.J., you must shave, and no, mister, you damned well better not wear your leathuh jacket, sez bitchin' Ms. B. Now, if only Dina Lohan could lasso in (yeah, right) her hard-socializing daughter Lindsay from her soiree-busting path.

I hear L2 was partying away moments ago in Puerta Vallarta with a raunchier set at the extravagant bedroom pad belonging to none other than Joe Francis, the dude responsible for such Masterpiece Theater-esque titles as Girls Gone Wild and Guys Gone Wild. Jeez, Linds. I'm actually worried. Didja make it outta there alive?

Actually, ya did. So glad. 'Course, you walked straight into a nasty pack o' those paparazzi jerks outside the News Room immediately upon your Southern California arrival, as luckless fate would have it.

But, then, as ya told me last week, "It happens," right? When you're famous 'n' all.

Lake Cuckoo

Back at George Clooney's superposh, superprivate Lake Como getaway (Ocean's 12 was shooting nearby, just to give you an idea how long ago this was), all the tacky, not so whispered tawk was about how Brad was already getting the charitable itch to visit less privileged countries to try and do what he could to help.

Jen, so these repeat dinner guests insist, was not as benevolently minded at that time. "She wanted to stay in Beverly Hills," relayed a Lake Como guest. "She made it plain to Brad she wasn't going anywhere."

Angelina Jolie was inclined to help out. Obviously.

(Production-wise, Mr. and Mrs. Smith and Ocean's Twelve did coincide, so there's a very good chance Jolie's worldly influence could already have taken place at this early stage in whatever kind of relationship they ended up having--and have today.)

"Not true," responded a press rep for the divorcing Aniston. "Jennifer is very supportive of the charity work Brad does."

Which, of course, is true. That point's not really being debated. It's that Jennifer didn't want to go globe-trotting, but alas, press-person Aniston also says this ain't the real McCoy, regarding his client's true feelings.

Glad to hear it, aren't you? Further scuttlebutt exists regarding what may or may not be coming outta Jen's pretty puss: namely, all that biz she's supposedly screaming to Vanity Fair about how very friggin' happy she would have been to have Brad's babies.

I threw that one to the former Friends femme's flack, as well. "Yes, there is a Vanity Fair story and, no, the quotes are completely fabricated," replied the exhausted PR man. "The main interview for the piece has not even been scheduled, and Jennifer did not discuss any of those things with (the writer)."

Jeez. Where do these things get started? Can't vouch for the VF rumors, but I know my Clooney gang members know of what they gab. Wouldn't have mentioned otherwise.

And ain't it funny that now, while Brad is preaching Africa and Angelina is keeping her prickly reps on speed-dial for handling anybody who infers she may be poking around a married man, Jen's off doing some things she loves most (save downing margaritas): shopping and shooting.

Gotta Have Plastic "She was absolutely charming to the girls at Ralph Lauren." --Fellow ritzy Chicagoan shopper, who witnessed Ms. Aniston, trim and supercute in jeans, a bohemian top and tall espadrilles, pick out a few fancy threads while in town shooting The Break Up, with Vince Vaughn

All is fair in love and war on Michigan Avenue. By all midwestern accounts, Ms. A. has been putting up a brave, albeit windblown front in the face of steamy billboards featuring her soon-to-be ex and his curvy costar plastered every-friggin'-where.

"She's been shooting at the Drake," relayed my Chicago Desk. "She uses the private entrance. Huge shades. But she's always got a smile on her face, I'll say that much. She's been staying at the Westin, though. I hear she's coping just fine, you know?"

Yep, I sure do. But under what hotel-guest name, I wonder? Lara Croft, maybe? Nah...

You keep charging everything to that hubby while you can, sweetheart!

Breather Begins

Wonder what kind of charge accounts the rumored next Mrs. Tom Cruise will be opening? And from what I hear down altar-alley, that new title for the perfectly adorable Katie Holmes--who I always thought was so bitchy and perky and charming (particularly in flicks like Pieces of April)--might be happening very soon. Like, minutes.

But actually, more startling in this work-obsessed town, is the agent-gab that K.H. is rumored to be taking some time off from her pro schedule, so she can wholly and completely concentrate on all things Cruise. Sure sounds like a gal with an any-minute white-picket-fence plan to moi!

But that's just fussy ol' me. What do Katie's peeps have to poop, I wonder? "All we can say right now," responded Ms. H.'s sweet-as-10-percent-pie reps, "is that Katie is really, really happy right now."


   

 

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