Unsurprisingly, Britney Spears' name comes up; not only is she guilty of using her handlers to hijack an evening's set list with overplayed Madonna and Prince tunes, but the only reliable method for curtailing her attention-whoring activities is to humiliate her off the stage with the music of her currently much more successful devirginizer. Also revealed: Brad Pitt possesses the ability to dance, and Hillary Clinton thinks that she can connect with young voters through 16-year-old Jesus Jones songs.

• Yo on E! [E! Online]

• Beatty and Hyde [TMZ]

The Standard Hotel: You are likely to find at least three things at the Standard: a plastic but beautiful bartender, some leggy drunk girl toppling over her shoes, and a c-list celebrity doing coke in the bathroom. The odds just work out that way. Whether the rampant cocaine use in the nicely modernist bathrooms have anything to do with HotelChatter editor Davie's love affair with the place is unclear.

Star Shoes: Great music venue and band hang out, this former shoe boutique is all 50's formica and American irony. They have DJs and live soul, funk, and hip-hop, and it feels less like LA than most places in Hollywood. Maroon 5 used to hang out here back before they hit it big. And you can bet Adam Levine was coked up when he wrote "Hard to Breathe" and the porcelain toilet top is infamous as high-quality blow snortpad.

Voda: Our LA operative says, "A little less celebrity and a LOT more douchey, Voda is an insufferable vodka bar in Santa Monica that I've started writing about three times but each time I have had to give up because I couldn't think of anything nice to say." Aw, well here's a nice thing: they have a waterfall, 50 types of Vodka and long lines of coke in the women's bathroom.

The rest of Gridskipper's list is here. But should you find venues open to the general public too inclusive for your tastes, Star magazine reports on two other options popular with VIPs: drug parties in the Hills, and Lindsay Lohan's bathroom.

• Long Lines in LA [Gridskipper]
• Secret Drug Parties Of The Stars [City Rag]

· In easily the most newsworthy development of the night, TMZ found itself caught in the middle of a fight between general-use celebutard Paris Hilton and semi-famous Dancing with the Stars contestant Shanna Moakler, a shocking episode of Mutually Assured Bimbo Destruction that ended with both filing police reports, and during which at least one weave was tragically sacrificed to Travis Barker's irresistible charms. [TMZ]
· Can Bobby Brown get into Hyde on a Tuesday night? You see this one coming all the way down the Sunset Strip, but we must: Hell to the no. That didn't feel very good. [TMZ]
· In stunning role-reversal between doorman and prospective bar patron, some guy from Prison Break whom we've never heard of (i.e., it wasn't the Human Stain guy) spoke truth to power, telling a bouncer that his shaving habits should keep him on the wrong side of the velvet rope. [TMZ]
· Famous-type people Dave Navarro and Michelle Trachtenberg were allowed entry to the club, as was infamous Paris Hilton nightvision doggystyler Rick Salomon. [TMZ]

But the real action was happening inside the Sunset Boulevard club, where, sources say, Nicole Richie was getting into the party spirit with her spirit of choice: Tequila! "She was so wasted!" said an attendant, who also said that Ms. Richie's drinking partner, Mary-Kate Olsen, was not doing anything to help the situation. "She was dancing on the tables and then she started giving lap dances to her friends and random guys, too."

And then it happened, under the copper ceiling, amidst the hanging candles. "Nicole puked right on the floor, like right in the middle of the club," said the source. "Everyone saw! But I guess she didn't care. She kept partying."

"She loves tequila," said the source, a friend of Ms. Richie's. "But you know, she's so small—and she probably didn't eat anything that day. So you know, she probably had a couple shots and it just happened. She was just having a good time."

It might seem odd that Richie would act so nonchalant after vomiting in the middle of the club, but as a VIP patron, she knew that a Hyde staffer would quickly alert her if her body had thrown up a critical internal organ after finding no recently consumed food to reject. Hot clubs like Hyde know that if they don't provide that level of service to their cherished celebrity clientele, they'll just take their gilded puke to a more welcoming establishment up the street.

• Letter From L.A.: Nicole Richie Lapdances, Blows Chunks At Ronson Bash [The Transom]
• Previously: Healthy, Glowing Lindsay Lohan Drinks Bottled Spring Water At Hollywood's Most Wholesome Clubhouse [Defamer]

But I think not. Lindsay, the only member of the Star/Us Weekly crowd with a future in acting, looked positively jaunty wearing a little hat when I saw her at L.A.'s hot new club Hyde. This is a place — believe it or not — where young people in the business come to talk and eat chocolate-chip cookies. There's dancing, too, mostly to music from the 1970s and '80s. Last night the crowd was grooving to "Come on Eileen" and "Kids in America."

Hyde is kind of a relief, I think, for Hollywood's young hotties. It's like being in a rich person's really cool den. Nicole Richie, the Olsen twins and members of Maroon 5 made the scene last night, and that was supposed to be a quiet evening. I also ran into the slightly older and very good actor Troy Garity, son of Jane Fonda and Tom Hayden, with his beautiful girlfriend, Simone Bent. They just hosted a fundraiser for Homies Unidos, a new foundation dedicated to ending gang violence, while Troy sat sifting through scripts, looking for his next film. [....]

And Lindsay? She's in love with Harry Morton, son of Hard Rock Caf founder Peter Morton and grandson of Arnie, he of Morton's steak houses. Even though Lindsay was chastised last week by her "Georgia Rule" producer James Robinson, it doesn't seem like it could be for anything other than having her head in the clouds. When I saw her just after midnight, she was carrying a bottle of ... water.

A place where Underage Hollywood congregates to showily chug bottled water in front of sympathetic gossip columnists, and where Slightly Older Hollywood kicks back with a plate of freshly baked cookies (it must have been too dark to notice the milk mustaches) to mull the next move in both their careers and charitable endeavors sounds like paradise, doesn't it? We don't know how Friedman neglected to mention the cardboard box full of abandoned puppies by the club's entrance, from which each patron is encouraged to select a new canine friend on their way out to the valet line. We hear that Lohan adopted two that night, then left a check for $6 million made out to the ASPCA pinned to the collar of the poor, adorable pug she just couldn't fit in her purse.

• Lindsay Lohan Is Alive and Well [Fox 411]

Hyde — Monday night madness... Ok, so it's been a while since I ventured out of my garret bungalow beneath the bouganvilla draped stairs, nestled in West Hollywood, and boy did last night make up for lost time. I saw EVERYONE... well, maybe not everyone, but so many celebs! The nicest actress in the world : January Jones, totally sober, offering to give her buddies a ride home. Smokin' Monica Keena (back to blonde), and her usual male-harem, including Largo performing comic Kevin Seccia, and a tall strawberry blonde producer. The Mo-Ke gang was chillin' while Monica and Kirsten Dunst were having an old home week reunion. When I got back from the ladies' I had the pleasure(?) of seeing Brandon Davis and Paris Hilton (when you get sober, aren't you supposed to cool it with the heiress drinking buddies?) No one yelled 'firecrotch,' so I think it's safe to assume Lindsay wasn't even in the state... Last but not least, Lil' Miss Ragamuffin Mary Kate Olsen. So small, so draped in fabric.

The second report follows after the jump:

Nothing notable at the Roosevelt followed by what I thought would be a dud evening at Hyde. My friend told me to come to the bathroom with her and I almost resisted- when I walked in there she was.. Paris Hilton. I think she's much hotter in person- strikingly so.. wow. I was surprised Paris wasn't super thin- she's skinny but in a normal way. She was with a brunette of similar height/body- but I didn't recognize her. Amanda Demme was there and didn't seem as cold as my previous impressions of her. Kirsten Dunst walked past me and I didn't even notice- my friend had to point her out. On the way out one of the Olsen Twins was looking very emaciated & bag ladylike- grinding with one of the pillars as if it was a poll. I felt like I was watching Jon Benet (minus the makeup/hair) during the talent portion of a pageant- it just felt wrong!

Bonus roll call of famous-type people at Hyde on Friday night:

Brett Ratner, Nick, Jessica, Olsen Sister + Chris Rock + Kato Kaelin @ Hyde last night...it was the caricature night — fucking kato kaelin sighting made my night.

• Swinging Producers Ready To Shoot Fame-Seeking Fish In Tiny Nightclub Barrel [Defamer]
• Great Moments In Velvet Rope History: Hyde Turns Away Obnoxious Billionaire [Defamer]

THINGS got ugly at the Hollywood Roosevelt over the weekend when a top Paramount exec was allegedly man handled, threatened and thrown out of the hotel by a doorman. Dee Poku, vice president of the studio's international marketing division, told Page Six, "They were pretty disgusting." While she wouldn't elaborate, a close pal said the drama erupted when Poku "was politely asking for one more guest on the list to get in to join a birthday party she was attending inside."

That's when the doorman inexplicably "verbally threatened" her, "grabbed her and threw her out into the street. She is totally traumatized," the friend said. The jolted exec, who is said to be mulling legal action, told a friend via e-mail: "I was in tears - they were so mean." The hotel said in a statement: "The guest was disrupting the hotel's security procedures with regards to checking IDs and asked to leave. We do not enjoy asking our patrons to leave, but were left no other choice. This particular guest was disruptive for over an hour."

The Roosevelt has obviously taken a less celebrity-obsessed approach to building buzz these days; under the Demme regime, the above story would've involved a dispassionate Amanda ordering one of her doormen to stungun the testicles of a second-tier One Tree Hill cast member, then having someone immediately call Page Six to brag about it. If the New Roosevelt can offer nothing better than an obscure Paramount exec having an hourlong hissy hit, they're going to have a hard time keeping their name in the tabloids.

• STUDIO EXEC GETS HOTEL BOOT [Page Six]

Girl: Do you work at MTV? Johnny Hollywood: No, but I used to. Girl: So what do you do now? JH: Well, actually...stall...stall...wait for it...stall...now I'm an independent manager of writers and directors. Girl: Oh......cool. So you must know some people. JH: Well, I wouldn't really say I know a lot of people, but I get it done.

Full versions of the redundant party-reporting goodness follow after the jump:

So the ostensible "perks" of my job saw me gracing the Stone Rose opening party at the newly painted Sofitel Hotel last night. Luckily about 500 of my closest friends also attended. Who knows how well Rande Gerber's newest lounge/club/douchebag breeding pond will do inside the Sofitel, which has a "Q" score hovering near the negative numbers. But not for me to judge. I can, however, judge the C/D/F-list crowd that basically crossed all clearly delineated LA social lines last night. —Rande and Cindy (who is very tall and very hot) were cuddling in the center of the bar all night, being harassed now and then but generally left alone. Despite rumors that the two have an "arrangement"—I mean the dude is a fucking nightclub owner!!!!—they seemed legit. —Escaped to the terrace and ran smack into the ominpresent D-lister Lance Bass engaged in deep conversation with previously-extorted-but-now-exonerated-by-the-sweet-scales-of-lady-justice Joe Francis who spent a lot of the subsequent time at the party running around the outdoor space frantically searching the crowd. Always fun to watch the trashy hoors do the double-take when they recognize him. —Omarosa (the Patrick Ewing double) from the Apprentice also on the patio holding court with whomever was interested...Sadly, more than a few were interested.

—Allison Janney looking like a soccer mom. She was way out of place among the Persian Mafia, Hollywood Club Rats, waves of painfully dressed Flackettes from every agency in town, coked out models, coked out run-of-the-mill tramps, coked-out sluts, and tons of Johnny Hollywoods.

Sample of (actual) overheard conversation:

Girl: Do you work at MTV?
Johnny Hollywood: No, but I used to.
Girl: So what do you do now?
JH: Well, actually...stall...stall...wait for it...stall...now I'm an independent manager of writers and directors.
Girl: Oh......cool. So you must know some people.
JH: Well, I wouldn't really say I know a lot of people, but I get it done.

On the plus side. Tons of free shellfish, sushi and great desserts (cupcakes, crackerjacks, rice krispy treats). Also open bar.

But, the biggest douchebag at the whole thing, of course, was ME! Simply because I went and then had to wait 25 minutes for my car at the valet.

The end.

And our second report, which we promise was authored by a high-level Defamer operative despite the misleading use of CELEBRITY CAPS:

Snuck into the SOFITEL hotel and STONE ROSE bar opening party last night and into a magical world of free Scotch, breaded meatballs, and B-, C-, and D-list celebrities. Arrived to see LANCE BASS (extra bug-eyed, it's getting worse as he ages) waiting in the lobby for people to notice him. It worked, chicks all over him. Out back, Harold (JOHN CHO is it?) with more hot girls and Jessica Simpson's assistant (CEE-CEE?) standing near the dessert bar (3 flavors of rice krispie treats!)

Also, KATO KAELIN standing next to OMAROSA, but I don't think they talked. At the VIP bar the skeletal remains of ALLISON JANNEY actually looked do-able (remember when she was the homophobic neighbor's dumpy wife in American Beauty? That was like 7 years ago and she looks way better NOW) lounging near SAMMY HAGAR—sorry, just some porn star who looked like SAMMY HAGAR taking freak-train photos with four girls with huge plastic boobs. Inside sitting behind a security dude was RACHEL BILSON ADAM BRODY she looked bored and his nonjewfro is getting big again. Quote of the night from a 300lb guy in a Hawaiian shirt: "Nice red jacket and plaid pants, douchebag...and ICM sucks!" Rest of the night's a bit blurry but I could've sworn i saw VIN DIESEL in a beret as we were leaving (no ducks). and CINDY CRAWFORD taking off in a Bentley with that bartender she dates. She looked perhaps the hottest of all, which is amazing since i checked IMDb and she's 57 yrs old.

• Defamer Party Report: Superflush [Defamer]

"Not tonight, Brandon," was the verdict on Saturday from doorman at the nightclub Hyde. "What are you talking about?" said Mr. Davis, according to an onlooker. Mr. Davis had, among others, his brother and Sonia Kinski, daughter of Nastassja, in tow. The doorman said it again. "Not tonight, Brandon. Tonight's not your night." "He was shocked," said the onlooker, who was in line behind Mr. Davis. "This might have been the first time someone has ever told him no." But also: "What the fuck do they care what he says about Lindsay's vagina? The guy's a billionaire."

We're not sure if sins have since been forgiven and Davis allowed back in the club, but for one, shining night on a sidewalk in Hollywood, the message was clear: Slander a good customer's genitalia, and you will receive a time out no matter how much money your relatives have left you. Unless you're a really important person in the industry, in which case: Come on in and we'll make sure we keep that firecrotch on the other side of the room.

• The Transom: L.A. Nights: Paris Hilton and Brandon Davis [NY Observer]

Brian Grazer doesn't seem to be in any hurry to patch things up with his estranged wife, Gigi. The "Da Vinci Code" producer has been cruising the L.A. night with swinging single Steve Bing. They entertained a bevy of young things at Hyde the other night ...

We trust that anyone inclined to use this information to increase their chances of a private, bathroom stall audition doesn't need to be told to suppress the urge to expel a mouthful of Grey Goose upon hearing the pick-up lines, "I can make Opie make you a star," or "Liz Hurley still brags about the way I knocked her up."

• Surveillance (third item) [Rush & Molloy]

• Star Catcher LA: Lohan Hits Shag [TMZ.com]

An insider says Demme is "sending spies to Teddy's to see if any of her former customers are still going there, so she can blackball them." But from where? Demme doesn't have any establishments at the moment, though she's hosting parties at Pure in Las Vegas. Director Ted Demme's widow had a problem with allowing famous underage drinkers to imbibe freely at the bars she ran. Our source snarked, "She can't really work in L.A. anymore - who will give her a liquor license?"

The blackballing idea strikes us as patently ridiculous, as Demme certainly wouldn't expect her patrons to go on the wagon while she looks for a local gig. Once she sets up her velvet rope and gets back to the important work of making sure that every underage starlet in this town has a clean, not-so-well-lighted place where they can get shitfaced in the company of an acceptably exclusive crowd, all regrettable flings with other enablers will be forgiven.

• NONE OF CLUBS [Page Six]

Susan Blackman, a publicist and self-proclaimed "tastemaker" was not impressed by the males on view on a recent Saturday while enjoying cocktails in the cordoned-off VIP area at the Hollywood Ren-Mar Studios.

"There are no hot guys here," the 28-year-old said.

She and a girlfriend then recognized actor Michael Bellisario from the TV show "JAG," in a mesh trucker baseball cap, and rushed to talk to him.

Bellisario, 26, started coming to Xenii parties last June. He said he did not need to pay for membership because [co-owner Rob] Perry "wants Hollywood here. I spread the word."

The Times says that the media attention from the Abdul-related violence has some "in the club scene" wondering if the ten-month old party might be dangerously close to buzz-depleting overexposure, but we think the concept has legs: Unattractive, unconnected men in Hollywood with too much money have long been searching for a prostiution-free way to try and fuck actresses and models without having to go through the time and expense of becoming movie producers.

• Gatsbies and the Wannabes [LAT]

The woman, one of Piven's best friends, apparently was too "tired" to walk to Piven's car after leaving Shag, according to Piven's publicist. Piven, who didn't valet his car, agreed to carry her.

Piven was able to get the young woman safely in his car and drove away.

It seems that Piven's Journey of a Lifetime to India changed him more profoundly than we'd imagined. Not only has he simplified his life by refusing to valet (an open declaration of war on the wasteful Hollywood lifestyle), the Piv cut short his evening to help a friend in need instead of having his assistant stash her in the car, crack a window, and return to the club to help him scout the remaining, still-upright talent.

UPDATE: Several readers, including one who claims to have been at Shag last night, have identified Piven's damsel-in-distress as Las Vegas star Vanessa Marcil, leaving us to wonder if only celebrities are eligible to receive his fireman-carry, club-to-curbside escort services.

[Photo: x17 video on TMZ]

• Piven to the Rescue! [TMZ.com]

The HOTTEST club in Vegas. LADIES FREE on my GUESTLIST!!! RSVP with your FULL name BEFORE 2pm on Friday If you have more than 2 guests, leave another ladies name, and I will add them as well.

Only Ladies names will be put on the list, Dress code will be STRICTLY enforced and as always all entry is at the Doorman's discretion. So come lookin good!

We know that it's common industry practice to try to keep the male-to-female clubgoer ratios skewed vaginaward, but with event promoters so dedicated to luring women into Hayden Christensen's birthday party, it will be almost statistically impossible for his publicist not to snap a picture of her client making out with an off-duty stripper, then leak it to the rags as evidence of his heterosexuality.

• Hayden Christensen's 25th Birthday - Friday @ TAO [MySpace]

"I'm definitely an artist-businesswoman, in the sense that I love to find things I'm passionate about, and make them known to the rest of the world," she said. "I'm a brander, a marketer. I'm an idol maker."

There is a touch of hyperbole to everything about Ms. Demme, and an intensity that is inescapable (though not necessarily the embodiment of Zen). She talks of her pride in making Teddy's "the No. 1 destination spot in the United States," and calls the club "my 'Pulp Fiction.' " ("It was a masterpiece.") Her biography, provided by a publicist, pronounces her "one of the very rare few that can be called an artist, entrepreneur, trendsetter, tastemaker, star maker and connoisseur without any trace of irony or hype." (Perhaps that should read "intended irony.") It observes that she is "an eerily well-rounded person" and "the hub of a wheel of activity that few could possibly appreciate." [...]

After her initial torrent of bravado, Ms. Demme seemed ready to accept some of the criticisms [about how she ran her nightclubs and reasons for bad press]. "My weakness in life, and it's always been my weakness, is I may say something that can be misinterpreted in the moment," she said. "I don't blame the other person, I blame myself. I've gotten better, and I will be even better." [...]

"I'm always going to be Amanda Demme. I'm never going to modify my behavior to work in a man's world," she said. "But I'll learn my lessons, and be a better human being, a better mother and a better friend." She paused. "Maybe," she said, and paused again, "maybe I have to not be so precious on certain things. And pick and choose my battles."

Such feats of humility are much more easily performed in the sanctuary of one's home than while playing gatekeeper at the club; we probably won't see how much preciousness Demme has abandoned until she sets up shop at her next venue. Consider it a bad sign for continuing self-effacement if she anoints her head bouncer "St. Peter" and soberly informs him to separate the "saved" from the "miserable, WB-level wretches" damned to partying at the Brent Bolthouse-sponsored night down the street.

• Rough Dawn for a Nighttime Queen [NY Times]

Jennifer Gross, Demme's rep, confirmed that the Roosevelt chose to exercise their right to buy out Demme and run the venues on their own. As to the reasons for Demme's departure, she called Page Six's report "innuendo and hearsay."

And Page Six:

AMANDA Demme may be down, but she's not yet out. Although the Hollywood Roosevelt is booting her and her clubs, Teddy's and the Tropicana, her rep says she's being "bought out" and thus will receive a hefty check for her efforts. Meanwhile, we hear Demme and her business partner, Michael Gruber, have been in talks with Pure in Las Vegas and the W Hotel chain to roll out a chain of Teddy's nationally. Demme's reps didn't return e-mails.

Again, we stress that we're not at all worried that she'll be gone from the scene for long (if at all) while her other deals go through. In the meantime, keep an eye out for her provisional space just outside of Privilege, Amanda Scheer Demme's Bottle Of Peppermint Schapps On A Dirty Cardboard Box Next to Wilmer Valderrama's Escalade.

• ALL DEMME CLUBS [NY Post]
• Hollywood Hot Spot Shut Down [TMZ.com]
• Previously: Amanda Scheer Demme To Be Cast Out Of Her Celebrity-Worshipping Eden? [Defamer]

Our insider said, "The hotel is under a lot of pressure from the city to get Amanda out." Among the complaints:

* Underage drinking: "Every week there is another 18- or 19-year-old like Lindsay Lohan, Kirsten Dunst [Ed. note—Dunst is old enough to get hammered legally, even if Demme is running the bar.] or the Olsen twins in the clubs drinking and getting drunk."

* Noise violations: "Amanda was arrested last year for noise violations."

* The Courtney Love incident: Love left the Tropicana on a stretcher and then an ambulance in what was deemed to be an overdose, although her reps insisted she was just "exhausted."

* Demme's "mistreatment" of hotel guests: Page Six documented Demme turning away hotel guests from the pool area last summer and even forbidding a wedding party to enter, although the bride had been assured she would be able to use the pool.

* Discrimination: Last year, Super Bowl MVP Terrell Davis filed a racial discrimination suit against Demme after she had him booted from Teddy's. He claims she uttered racial epithets. Then, last month, an associate of Demme told Los Angeles magazine that rival club owner Brent Bolthouse would get nowhere now that he was partnered up with "the Jew" [Sam Nazarian].

Even if "the city" is truly less than pleased about the above sins (really, barely an average night at the Trop) and Demme is expelled from her cozy wombs at the Roosevelt, we have a feeling it won't be long before she sets up shop nearby. This is Hollywood, after all, where people will line up by the dozen if someone merely encircles an open manhole with a velvet rope and promises that Linday Lohan had fallen in and died just moments before.

• TOP L.A. CLUBS FACE THE BOOT [NY Post]

David Judaken, who owns Mood, told TMZ Thursday: "Thanks to your investigative reports, we are under investigation by several agencies." Judaken added that since our reports authorities have complimented him on the club's vigilance. He said the woman who was busted Thursday had an exceptionally good fake ID. He said his club has a "zero tolerance policy," adding, "My security doesn't even recognize celebrities or care." It is unclear in the video if Cavallari was carded before entering.

Dubious statements about the club's doormen's inability to spot a infiltrating Lohan or Olsen notwithstanding, we can hardly blame the Mood staff for letting the 17-year-old slip by. Judging from the video of the arrest her "exceptionally good fake ID" was obviously supplemented by the kind of back-up breast work that defies a parental plastic surgery consent form, indicating that she was at least 18 or 19 and could go relatively unnoticed by authorities once inside.

• Bust at Hot Hollywood Club [TMZ.com]
• Previously: Breaking! Underage Stars Party At Hollywood Clubs! [Defamer]

TMZ has video of other underage stars entering and leaving Mood — 19-year-old Mary-Kate Olsen, 19-year-old Lindsay Lohan, 20-year-old Frankie Muniz, and the list goes on, though we don't know what they did when they were inside. How do they get away with it? A Hollywood nightclub promoter, who asked to remain anonymous, was blunt: "Authorities know that there are underage celebrities inside drinking and if they don't care, why should we?" He added the obvious: "Celebrities help to make our clubs more exclusive.

Indeed, local nightclubs couldn't possibly achieve any kind of B-list cred without the possibility that one might experience the mind-melting cognitive dissonance of watching Malcolm in the Middle's boy genius sucking tequila out of a shot girl's navel. Even so, the responsible citizens of TMZ have alerted the Alcohol Beverage Control department about the clubs' permissive shenanigans; we expect a full investigation (complete with undercover infiltration of the club scene performed by a plea-bargaining pigeon from a WB drama), and that the secret scourge of underage celebrity patronage will be wiped out by the end of the month.

• Exclusive: Underage Stars Party Illegally at Clubs [TMZ.com]

Danny Masterson rocked the fashion shows today at Smashbox Studios, but when we bumped into him at Ashley Paige's swimsuit show, the conversation quickly turned to nightlife and Kid's Cotton Club, his glamorous jazz night at Guy's on Sundays. He told us he started the night to pay homage to New York City's jazz scene and to help inject LA with culture and class. "It's a night to pretend we're sophisticated when really everyone's a douche bag," he said. He also gave us some tips for getting past his velvet rope. First and foremost, Danny demands to see your pearly whites. If you're not smiling at the door, you're not getting in. He also says guys must wear a suit for entrance and that he'd rather rowdy frat dudes look for another venue to party in. Girls can show up in whatever they'd like, but he finds that those in casual duds act introverted all night and then come back the next week wearing a dress.

Hear that, uncultured douchebags? Danny's running a classy joint.You'd better break your best weddings-and-funerals duds out of mothballs if you want to spend a night watching his pal Fez pretend that he likes jazz so that he can bag two groupies whose parents own a Miles Davis record.

• Clubbing with Danny Masterson [LA.comfidential]

On a more serious note, if not even the shitfaced-jackass-clotted sidewalk outside of Mood can be kept free of such unspeakable violence, can we feel safe anywhere in Hollywood? How long will it be before someone uses Nicole Richie to stab a bitch outside of LAX?

Also: What happened to that dude's shoes?

• Paparazzi fighting at Mood over Paris Hilton pics 10/13 [JJB via CityRag]

According to a HotelChatter reader:"John Popper of Blues Traveler and fat fame was on Howard Stern this morning talking about how great the Roosevelt Hotel is. No idea if he stayed there, but he eluded [sic] to having romanced women at the property....eeewwwww!!!" So there you have it. John Popper, who is clinging to celebrity like spit clings to his tired harmonica, loves the Roosevelt, and actually may hook up with women there.

When the Trop's great and interesting clientele stumble into one of the poolside cabanas, they want to see Courtney Love foaming at the mouth or Bruce Willis buried alive under a pile of 20-year-olds, not John Popper showing his stomach-staple scars to a desperate groupie that can't get over the fact that she's about to blow the guy who sang "Runaround." Scheer Demme better tighten up that guest list before Hootie (or, God forbid, a minor Blowfish) gets past security and ruins her party.

• This Man Loves Hotel Roosevelt [HotelChatter]
• Behind The Velvet Rope: Understanding Amanda Scheer Demme [Defamer]

Demme also has a soft side, volunteering at daughter Jaxson's school, helping a friend plan her daughter's bat mitzvah so that it has just the right amount of cool.

That bat mitzvah was an incredible success. After a tense hour in which a guest list mix-up prevented the event's guest of honor from getting past the bouncer, she went on to enjoy an incredible celebration of her passage into womanhood. Her friends are all still talking about how Courtney Love overdosed and collapsed on the buffet table, and how Bruce Willis hit on all of her friends.

• HOLLYWOOD HIGH AMANDA DEMME TURNS A HOTEL BAR INTO A PRIVATE PARTY [SF Chronicle]
• Previously: Amanda Scheer Demme Strikes Again [Defamer]

Teddy's, which she named after her deceased husband Ted Demme, will be even more exclusive than the Tropicana Bar. Unlike other A-list clubs where celeb status, model looks or a short skirt is enough to get past the bouncer, there are only two ways to get past her velvet rope.

1. You are an FOA (Friend of Amanda)

2. You are powerful in your industry, be it entertainment, retail or art.

Amanda, who is not the sexiest gal in the circuit, doesn't care what you look like, according to her rep. She wants her clientele to be a powerful industry mix, which explains why Jesse Metcalfe was recently told the Tropicana Bar was at capacity as Kirsten Dunst waltzed inside. Teddy's is half the capacity of the Tropicana Bar and only FOAs will be allowed in. When that hits capacity, she'll select her closest friends to join her in the adjoining Library Bar. It'll be like the Russian Nesting Dolls of clubs that gets successively more exclusive. However, on the nights when Teddy's is closed, non-FOAs and Roosevelt Hotel guests get access to the Library Bar—that's as close as they'll ever get to stepping foot in Amanda's territory.

Those special enough to burrow down to the Library Bar level will discover that there is yet another echelon of exclusivity available to only the hottest and most powerful patrons. Tucked away behind a series of velvet ropes at the back of the room is a telephone booth on a three-foot pedestal; once a night, Scheer Demme will select a single guest to join her inside it to split a bottle of Jack Daniels, while the other FOAs quietly fume over their public snubbing, hoping against hope they will one day make The Booth.

• The Ut of the Utmost [LA.com]
• Tales From The Trop: Amanda Scheer Demme’s Discount Nightmare [Defamer]

The Trop's reign of terror is nearly over.

• "Mr. Belding" - Dennis Haskins Our Special guest MC [Pop Rocks]

Friday night I was distracted at the Dime by all the trips to the bathroom that Lindsay Lohan and Mischa Barton were taking. Dressed in all black with red flats (keds, perhaps?) Mischa has flawless bone-structure, all the more apparent when you are a skeleton. Still, she's a striking beauty. Lindsay was doing her best Mischa impression in a white belted dress with boots and that yellow hay hair. Apparently, it was an Anorexia Anonymous meeting since I had just missed the Olsen Twins. Overheard:

LL talks on her cell outside the front door.
LL: Where are you? Come here, I'm in front. No, the front.

MB walks over on her way to her car with her underage posse.

MB: Lindsay, Lindsay...this is so over, I'm out.
LL: Okay sweetie, see you in a sec. Kisses.

Perhaps the only thing more shocking than Barton's ingratitude (after the bouncer looked the other way to allow her to enjoy some virgin vodka tonics, she repays them by declaring their scene "so over"? Bitch, no you di'int.) is Lohan's utterance of the phrase "Kisses." We have to thank our spy for omitting any air-smooches that may have followed; it's quite uncomfortable for us to soil our drawers in horror more than once in a single item.

"This is a place where stars can feel like freaks, and freaks can feel like stars," adds Navarro, who's even taking a hands-on interest in design. "I want to put stripper poles in here for public use so if any girl wants to get up and dance, she can."

Hold on...stripper poles in a bar? Functional stripper poles? (Somewhere, his mind totally blown, nightlife impresario Rande Gerber has ordered that every last one of his properties be razed.) Navarro might need to convince his partners to rechristen the place RokPoleBar, lest this crucial, innovative component go criminally unreflected in the club's name.

• True to its name [LAT]

To celebrate the coming unfashionable poolside apocalypse, we share another Defamer correspondent's "Tale from the Trop," in which some malfunctioning fabulous-detectors caused some guests to relocate:

I'm beginning to understand Amanda Scheer-Demme's brilliant PR strategy for deflecting the negative press surrounding pool access at the Roosevelt/Tropicana: say all the right things in the press, and continue on blithely and arrogantly doing exactly what you did before.

I put up out of town relatives at the Roosevelt Monday the first and Tuesday the second. First, because it's close to my Hollywood Hills home and, second, as New Yorkers, I thought they might enjoy getting a bit of the LA scene up close. Despite Amanda's quote just the day before in the LA Times that hotel guest would now be allowed access to the pool, they were denied entry Monday due to an E! party (the party kept them out that night, the prep kept them out that day) and denied entry Tuesday (during the day due to a photo shoot and again that night). They were actually offered the pool at the Millennium hotel as a substitute. Were they to cross Hollywood Bld. and walk through the Hollywood Highland mall towels in hand? Of course, none of these activities were disclosed upon check-in. When we complained, no discount or refund was offered. Ironically, a call to an "in the scene" friend got them walked through the ropes immediately Tuesday night. So much for taking care of guests. These are urbane New Yorkers, who actually work in the kind of fields Amanda claims she wants there (publishing, the arts). And who are the sort of people who will re-tell the story in the halls of Conde Nast, etc. On Wednesday, I moved them to the Chateau and the experience could not have been more different. Service was polite, the pool was wonderful, a dining table outside at prime time was secured on short notice as a courtesy to the fact they were staying there (hmm, treat guests BETTER than outsiders? Novel!). And we didn't even have to eat in yet another Dodd Mitchell-designed dining room. Same room rate, BTW, $300. Not only will this affect future guest housing plans, but it will affect room choice when deciding between the Mercer and 60 Thompson. And Citibank is doing a wonderful job making sure I'll never have to pay the hotel bill for the two bad nights at the Roosevelt.

More "Tales from the Trop" to come!

• Tales From The Trop: Demme’s Blinders [Defamer]
• Tales From The Trop: Sarah Blocked, Carson Whines, Lovitz Just Being Lovitz [Defamer]

According to Amanda Scheer-Demme, who partnered with the hotel to run the Tropicana, she was initially taken aback by the early negative reviews. But the criticism, she said, has been constructive. "When you're working hard on something you tend to have blinders on," she said, "It's great to hear, 'Hey, dude, you need to fix this.' "

By the end of the week, the Roosevelt Hotel will make an earnest attempt to better accommodate its guests at times when its Tropicana has achieved maximum starfucking density. They're hard at work installing an inflatable pool behind three feet of bulletproof glass a mere fifty feet from the poolside bar, allowing the less interesting and not-so-great a place to cool off and safely enjoy a cocktail. Meanwhile, a reader reports that things are still hopping during construction of the Civilian Celebrity Viewing Annex:

Spotted Sunday at Amanda Scheer Demme's Tropical Fuckmarket: Eva Longoria with a hick-chic boytoy, PJ Dickslip (AKA Johnny Knoxville) expertly culling the hottest/most insecure girl from a pride of models (Dear Johnny Knoxville's wife Melanie, WTF, seriously?) and Lionel Richie holding court from his balcony above it all like a benevolent dictator. Also a bunch of steakhead male models ruining it for the rest of us. Enough with the backflips into the pool, dude. We get it.

Well, we can't expect change to happen overnight, can we?

[We still have Tales from the Trop to share (thanks for the great response), but keep sending them in. More TK.]

• The Word Gets Around, Quickly [NY Times]
• Tales From The Trop: Sarah Blocked, Carson Whines, Lovitz Just Being Lovitz [Defamer]

I recently had the phenomenal time / misfortune of going to Hollywood's "exclusive" new club, The Tropicana, inside of Hollywood's Roosevelt Hotel. After waiting in line forever (and being a VIP on the guest list) arrived inside the "club." However, actress Sarah Polley and husband David Wharnsby were turned away because the stoned doorman actually said, "Dude's aren't allowed after 11:30."

By the time we got inside the club, which barely had over 100 people but SOMEHOW included Carson Daily, whom I (and 2 other people) heard say, "Dude, fuck this — I'd rather be at Shelter." Sadly (for Tropicana anyway), we soon learned that he had only been there for less than 45 minutes. Upon entering the "club" (which should be classified a "bar" on its best night), we also saw the overly made-up Rachel Bilson (sans Adam Brody) complaining how they turned away her gay friend named "Matty."

Oh Tropicana, why you gots to be hatin'?

No! Not Sarah and Matty! What kind of a twisted world turns away a fine Canadian actress and the fabulous friend of an OC star, while reserving space for third-string talk show host Carson Daly? They are mad with exclusionary power at the Trop, mad we tell you! This place is making Skybar in its heyday look like the Orange County Fair on half-price night. Fortunately, Hollywood hasn't invented a stronghold that Jon Lovitz can't penetrate:

Stopped by the Roosevelt Thursday night, where I saw Joaquin Phoenix, Darryl Hannah (canoodling with a bald tranny), and incongruously enough, Jon Lovitz at the poolside bar. It was like an "Electric Company" game, "one of these things is not like the other," and older, uncool Jon in a day-glo rugby shirt was most definitely the "Umm... is that really who I think it is? And what is he doing here?" factor.

Got more Tales from the Trop that you'd like to share with those of us who may never inhale its rarefied air (especially now that we're posting them here)? Send them to tips@defamer.com. We have a feeling this is going to be a popular feature.

• Doing It Outdoors At The Tropicana [Defamer]

What's the hottest patio in town? That would be the Tropicana Bar at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, or as the answering machine says, "Amanda Scheer Demme's Tropicana Bar." (When the name-dropping starts that early in the process, we regular Joes know we're in trouble.)

If you haven't heard of it, chances are you're over 35. This is the place where Paris and Nicky, Bruce Willis, Chris Kattan and Kirsten Dunst have been partying of late. It's located poolside at the once again fashionable hotel, and if you want to get in, well, good luck.

Fortunately, there are plenty of restaurants with sizzling patio scenes around town that will be happy to seat you even if your last name isn't Hilton.

The Times is really doing the public a disservice by even recognizing the existence of other patio-haunting options. If you're seen hanging out anywhere but The Trop, your publicist might as well take out a billboard over Sunset depicting your work with last season's lepers.

• Where to go for cool [LAT]
• Keeping The Plebes Away From The Pool [Defamer]
• The New Roosevelt Courts The Great And Interesting [Defamer]

On Friday, Willis was at a cabana in the Tropicana at the Roosevelt Hotel in L.A. with 20 pals when the subject turned to pickup lines. Willis looked at a woman, a sophomore in college, and said, "What are your plans for sex tonight?" But Willis' lawyer, Marty Singer, said, "Bruce was joking around with some friends and talking about pickup lines. One remembered an old pickup line [Willis] used to use. The friend said the line and Bruce may have repeated it, but he was not trying to pick up the woman." Still, the woman was "grossed out" and left the cabana.

See, Bruce and the boys were just screwing around! No one was actually trying to get laid, but if a 20-year-old got "grossed out," "somehow" got a hold of Willis' room key, then later "spent the night talking about the craft" with a "man old enough to be the father that withheld his love, causing her to move to L.A. to pursue her dreams to prove him wrong," that's hardly the fault of a hackneyed pick-up line.

Also: Nothing keeps your hot new club in the tabloids like a lesbian catfight. The Roosevelt's flacks really deserve a raise.

• BRUCE GROSS-OUT [NY Post]

"Everyone's trying to be exclusive right now," says owner Gianni Capaldi. "We want to be the place you go when you just want to have a good time, where you feel invited without any of the hassle."
Hollywood's boomtown status has led to dozens of new nightclub openings, and many more are on the horizon. People have more options than ever, but depending on what night you hit the town, you'll find yourself standing in line, going face-to-face with a clipboard-toting fascist.
Not at the Red Buddha.
"I've been here eight times," says Julian Pagano, an actor and filmmaker originally from New York. "I never have any problems getting in, and they make a point of remembering you, which makes you want to come back..."

How can these nightclub Flat Earthers possibly survive when they deny their patrons the accepted admissions gauntlet? People expect, even welcome, the initial "clipboard-toting fascist" denial, the ineffectual name-dropping of a promoter, producer, or walk-on sitcom role, the re-checking of the list (with requisite, humiliating page-flipping, finger-scanning, and "I'm not seeing you...what's your name again?" mumbling), the ego-nullifying pleading, and, finally, the grudging fellation of the doorman. It's only after this time-honored purification ritual is performed in its entirety can the club-goer fully enjoy an evening waiting to use a bathroom stall in which Lindsay Lohan and two of her new best friends are "helping each other urinate."

• Upscale, yes, but not exclusive [LAT]
• Previously: The New Roosevelt Courts The Great And Interesting

THE Coldplay show at the Hard Rock club the Joint on that Friday night had Courteney Cox Arquette, Jessica Simpson, Fred Durst, Tommy Lee, Nine Inch Nails' Trent Reznor, Tara Reid, and Dave Navarro and Carmen Electra among the crowd hanging in the upstairs VIP balcony. The following night, Jessica Alba, members of Linkin Park, Mike Einziger of Incubus, wrestling diva Stacy Kiebler and Leelee Sobieski bounced between shows by Bon Jovi and Nine Inch Nails. Many of the celebrities then turned up at Body English to catch a 1 a.m. performance by Hollywood party band Camp Freddy. [...]

For that weekend, [promoter/Danny Masterson BFF Brent] Bolthouse and the Hard Rock Hotel arranged for a private jet to make two trips back and forth to Los Angeles to shuttle its hottest guests. "Once you set foot on that jet and you see people you know, people who are part of your social circle, it instantly makes you comfortable," he says. Actress Shannon Elizabeth agrees. "You see all your friends here. It's like hanging out at Spider Club on Friday night," she said at the event.

We're glad that the passenger list for the Hard Rock's private jet has been so carefully calibrated to unsure maximum celebrity comfort for the one-hour jaunt to Vegas. No one wants a repeat of the incident when Wilmer Valderrama finished blowing a rail off a flight attendant's cleavage, noticed someone he didn't recognize lounging on a nearby sofa, then spent the last thirty minutes of the flight loudly demanding that the "narc" be given a parachute and ejected over the desert.

Bonus terrifying quotes about the Hollywoodization of Vegas from the piece: "'It's always going to appeal to the younger generation of Hollywood partyers, the Lindsay Lohans and the younger Lindsay Lohans.'"

"'I see it lasting with the Hollywood and celebrity people because of what Peter Morton is doing,; he says, referring to the Hard Rock owner who just announced plans for expansion of the hotel and exclusive condos. 'He's going to create L.A.'s answer to the Hamptons.'"

• They've put a little La-La in Las Vegas [LAT]

"I think it needs to be about really great, interesting people," she says. "I want to create a crowd, the ultimate mix. I want it where you have musicians and painters and photographers and young and old and Eastside rockers and Westside whatever and I want fashion people. I want New York. That's kind of what I grew up with."

Sounds incredible, doesn't it? LA's various factions come together to create a utopia of Serious Talks About Art, The Industry, and Indie Bands while getting Giddily Shitfaced at the hotel's tripartite liquor stations! Unfortunately, we couldn't even get deep enough into our mental vacation to face our inevitable and shameful rejection by the doorman, for the piece had already defined the "really great, interesting" people we might meet by the pool bar:

But when opening night arrives, three weeks ago, Demme's fears prove unfounded. From an invitation list she put at "40 or so," the poolside crowd swells to 300, including Hollywood types such as Jake Gyllenhaal, Lindsay Lohan and Eva Mendes.

There is a bright side in this: With the three different venues and the multiple restrooms servicing them, the chances that you'll be stuck waiting for Lohan to finish her important stall-based business (She does seems to go a lot, doesn't she? Maybe her body's eaten her bladder for sustenance.) are greatly reduced, thus minimizing the time you have to spend in line with the "interesting" people who keep trying to cadge some of your blow.

• Invitations are being sent [LAT]

• LA's Hottest Nightlife Personalities [LA.com]

At Spider Club on Friday, hungry bobble heads Lindsey Lohan & Nicole Richie sitting up on the back of their booth for everyone to see, joined by Ashlee Simpson a little later. Christina Aguilera & Jordan Bratman at a table across the room, next to another table where Kimberly Stewart was hanging all over that Puddle of Mudd guy. Some other B-listers cruising around – LeeLee Sobieski, Rachel Lee Cook (waiting patiently in the 500 person girls bathroom line), and the gardener Jesse Metcalf. Good times.

If it weren't theoretically impossible to construct a cuff tight enough to keep Lohan's or Richie's skinny wrists from slipping out, we'd suggest that they were shackled to those Spider Club booths, forced to spend their weekend on display for the shiny-shirt crowd. Maybe the promoters screw the chains directly into their bones, which would probably hold just long enough to get a sufficient amount of Grey Goose into their bloodstreams to kill the impulse to escape to another club up the street.

at prey last night simon rex, justin timberlake, josh duhamel w/fergie. i saw about 10 paris look alikes. it was almost funny....don't ask me anything else. i'm too hungover and i don't remember details. you can make something funny up about how fergie and jt had a dance off or something and simon mc'd while josh stood pretty.

Sadly, the real Paris Hilton didn't show up, photograph her genitalia with her Sidekick, and then leave the phone unattended in a bathroom stall. But as long as we're using our imagination, we're going to close our eyes, smile, and picture exactly that.

UPDATE: A reader with a hangover of lesser severity checks in with another report of last night's action at Prey. But if you don't want the image of Jeremy Piven dry-humping in your head, you'd better not read what follows after the jump.

I was also at Prey last night, on the poor advice from a club-happy friend. The place stank like someone had taken a dump under one of the tables and none of the staff had been able to find it. Nonetheless, Hugh Hefner was there with his little army of bimbettes. I began to wonder whether they learn a special "Bunny Dance" when they are inducted into the fold, because they certainly do bounce more than the average girl.

Justin Timberlake was there, looking bored as hell. No Cameron. No dancing, sadly.

Also, interestingly, Jeremy Piven was there talking up some girl I didn't recognize. He was making nice out on the smoking porch, and then later getting a good dry hump/ass feel/ slow-dance-during-fast-song on the dance floor.

I was driven away by the stench by about 12:30, so I don't know whether they ended up copulating in the corner.

That's probably for the best. The dry-humping stuff has already exceeded our day's quota for disturbing imagery.

• Previously: Defamer Club Report: The Dangers Of Spider Club [Defamer]