Another week has come and gone, and as I reflect on the latest news in the superficial world of Hollywood, I came to the conclusion that I really need to watch what I say because I don’t want a letter from Donald Trump telling me how much of a fat, pathetic liar I am. I really don’t need it at this point in my life. On with the questions.

So, Pete Doherty and Kate Moss are slated to marry Jan. 19. What kind of “cocktails” are going to be served at this reception? I can only hope attendees bring their skis because I can only imagine how high those snowy mountains are going to be.

This upsets me a great deal. Moss is one of my favorite models, and she is the only one to have a drug problem turnaround to rival Janice Dickinson. Marrying Doherty is suicide. How does that relationship work? He is strung out 24/7, dodging jail and slinging used syringes filled with his cocaine-laced blood at reporters. A marriage to Doherty is a quick pass to oblivion. I can’t keep track of their on-off, on-off relationship. I guess a wedding would be the only way to stop this relationship merry-go-round. I can’t imagine the wedding, though. Do they serve food? Because I seriously doubt Moss eats. Do you have to get your blood tested before you’re invited? So many questions run through my mind about how a “reformed” coke-addict and a hard core coke-addict tie the knot.

Britney’s new man, Isaac Cohen, looks a bit like her ex. What about Britney attracts her to such shady-looking characters? Or do all people from the Louisiana backwoods seek out those who look like they’re from the rough-and-tumble Gary, Ind.?

First, I must defend Cohen. He has a job and he had one before he met Spears. The tattoos are fake, they were only for a fashion show (so says his MySpace page). This puts him on another level. He has his own income and it looks like he owns more clothes than wifebeaters and camo pants, so he meets my standards for Britney. I’m still tempted to call Justin Timberlake and beg him back (for her of course). But before I move on, let’s not forget Michael Jackson is from Gary, Ind., so its not all that rough-and-tumble.

The feud between Rosie O’Donnell and Donald Trump finally looks to be over. Who came out the victor, and what spoiled celebrities can we turn to now to watch for petty fights?

Over? Says who? We are talking about the Donald here. Nothing is over for him. Instead of taking his billions and building a school for underprivileged youth in a foreign country – like the rest of us – he decides to waste his time on O’Donnell, who at this point is just begging for attention. Could she be a bigger windpipe? I bet Star Jones is laughing her pay-less ass off at this point. Not that the show has been any good – ever. It certainly has gone down the drain quicker than Paris Hilton’s music career since O’Donnell came on; it has been controversy, controversy, controversy. Today, Trump issued a letter responding to O’Donnell and Barbara Walters. My favorite line is “Barbara has become a sad figurehead dominated by a third-rate comedian.” I had no idea comedians had rates. I always thought there was greatness and then there was Kathy Griffin. Who knew there was an in-between? Trump went on to clarify that his brainchild, “The Apprentice,” didn’t bomb in the ratings. Funny – I can remember a certain letter to a certain fresh out-of-jail domestic-diva calling her out. So what did we learn from all this? If you do anything to piss off O’Donnell, she will talk about you for weeks on her morning show, and if you piss off the Donald, not only will he call you third-rate, but he will sue you for millions – just for fun.

Gerrick Lewis is the Lantern arts & life editor. To ask questions for a future Gossip With Gerrick, e-mail him at [email protected].