The name on everybody's lips these days has been Jennifer Lopez, and that includes Madonna's, depending on whom you believe. Last week I gave you the millennial rundown of star celebrations throughout the world, but none of them could deliver the same amount of scandal as a certain South Beach soiree held by Donatella Versace in her dead brother's mansion.

'Nutella (as I like to call her in tribute to my favorite chocolate spread) had some surprises in store for her select list of invitees, including a dancefloor made from a candle-filled swimming pool covered in plexiglass and fully nude go-go boys to entertain the guests, which included Maddie, Gwyneth Paltrow (her best-friend-of-the-month), Rupert Everett, and Ingrid Cesares. Shades were drawn and you couldn't open windows for fear of creating a tantalizingly visual disturbance!

As you well know, the super-swell roster of invitees were enjoying their last supper of the century when Jennifer Lopez swept in (inciting rumors back home of a split with her accused boyfriend Puff Daddy, as she was originally pegged to be co-hosting his millennial party, which he ended up not even going to!). Jenny really doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut -- she's dissed Salma Hayek, Rosie Perez, Madonna and Gwynnie in the press -- and her late entry reportedly inspired Madonna to stand up and proclaim, "Dinner's over!" and walk out of the room, entourage in tow. But, Madonna, I haven't finished my soup!

This is what's popularly been reported, though Madonna's spokesdiva Liz Rosenberg has openly denied the event. Personally, if I were Madonna, I'd lay claim to that, even if it were not true. I mean, why not? Instead, she's taking the high road, a route I'd suggest for Ms. Lopez if she wants to maintain her career. Jenny wasn't smarting from the encounter, though; the next night she was seen swiveling to a sassy salsa band at the Cardozo Hotel.

As for Gwyn, she was supposedly on a cell phone all night, talking to Ben Affleck, who was having his own party in Boston. Since the two broke up exactly a year ago, she apparently did not wish her auld acquaintances to be forgot.

Goodbye, Cathy!

A Y2K bug bit somebody on New Year's, a certain star-struck brunette by the name of Catherine Zeta-Jones. In the scariest news of the century thus far, the curvaceous Welsh starlet rang in the New Year in Aspen, with a proposal from her quarter-of-a-century-older boyfriend Michael Douglas, who sank to the snow with a fat diamond rock (10-karats surrounded by 28 other stones!) for her delicate finger. They later celebrated the engagement so thoroughly that they caught the flu together and had to remain in Aspen for another week. (Isn't the flu life-threatening for a man of Mike's age?)

Accuse me of being ageist, if you will, but we get enough of these disturbing pairings in films. We certainly don't need them popping up off-screen as well! Maybe if Michael didn't seem so disturbingly rich and white, I'd be more comfortable with their certainly provocative pairing. (It doesn't help that Mikey's been treated for sexual addiction in the past. Aaaaa-oooo!)

Luckily, being under the wing of a super-stern, rumored coke-fiend has not hindered the sexy starlet from going her own way in a few important decisions, like the wedding gown, fr'instance. At news of her engagement, designers like Donna Karan have called her up to donate a specially made gown, but Cathy's opting for a Welsh-made dress, presumably by some elderly seamstress with a bad eye and a thousand pirate stories, sewing by the seashore! (Sorry, that's my romantic vision of Welsh seamstresses; I assume they have normal designers there, too.)

Mike did get his way about the location of the wedding: his rustic mountain villa in Majorca, which the couple frequently visits. (Cath even honed her golf skills there.) She really wanted to have the ceremony at a lovely little Clyne Chapel near her hometown of Mumbles (no joke) in Wales (my God, did the woman live with fairies and leprechauns, too?). But that quaint little hovel seats only 200, and she realized that an international event such as her wedding would require a larger venue.

Before you start thinking that passion has completely possessed these two apparent lovebirds, there's also word that they've signed a very extensive prenuptial agreement. Since Mike just signed off a $22 million divorce settlement with his last wife Diandra, I'd say that was a good move, though it really dulls the varnish on true love knowing you have a signed contract hanging over you. The two plan to get married on September 25, which also happens to be their birthday. Thank god! I'll only have to buy them ONE gift!

And that leads us right into...

Absurd Celebrity Quote of the Week

"I've never dated anybody the same age as me. I think it's because I love the knowledge older men have."

--Catherine Zeta-Jones, on her dating choices

Love you, darling, but admit it: you love the sexual aspect of driving ugly white guys wild, as well as the "knowledge" they impart on your beautiful self.

Bad Breaks

Seems our age-divided lovers were the ONLY people keeping it together for the new year. Almost immediately on the announcement of their impending bliss comes the dissolution of several other couplings, most notably Jane Fonda and Ted Turner.

Fonda has claimed its merely a "separation," though I personally believe she could no longer put up with Ted's WT-BS any longer. Speculation now circles on whether Jane will return to her first love: acting. I hope so. Anyone who doesn't understand the whole Jane Fonda thing needs to rent "Klute," and, boy, will you get it.

Other recent celebrity breakups include Melanie B, aka "Scary Spice," and her former Spice dancer Jimmy Gulzar, who married 18 months ago and had one daughter, Phoenix. I guess Mel will be devoting the year to the final throes of the Spice Girls, no?

A more legitimate musician, Billy Joel, has dumped his 33-year-old artist girlfriend, Carolyn Beegan, after five years of mostly low-key goings-on. She was around for his New Year's performance at Madison Square Garden, though reports indicate that the two had parted as a romantic item by then. Doesn't it seem like only yesterday that Billy was with Christie Brinkley? Whatever happened to that hot blondie, incidentally?

And finally Joan Rivers, bitchy giver-of-the-Golden-Hangars, has broken up with her boyfriend of six years, Orin Lehman. I'm presuming he wore a white tuxedo one day, and Joan just let him have it. (Sidenote: why is a woman who dresses like a victim of the "Poseidon Adventure" giving fashion advice to ANYONE?)

Happy Birthday To G

Not only is my second annual 29th birthday this week -- that's January 13th, same day as Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, incidentally -- but it's also the first year anniversary of the G-Spot. Oh, and what a year it's been! I read that first column now and all I hear is a naive, innocent gossip columnist, still excited by Nick Nolte. I even linked Jenny Lopez with Marc Anthony. (If only they had stayed together!)

Five-thousand cocktails and a million star-sightings later, I've gotten accustomed to the smell of celebrity garbage cans and the beady eyes of paranoid public relations people; it's now as though these things are part of my very DNA. In my most shameless move yet, I present to you the G-Spot's ten most (to borrow a hollow adjective from People Magazine) intriguing moments, many you may have missed...

10. Thanksgiving With The Stars - The oddest of my celebrity holiday roundups, and I follow Brad Pitt and The Hairstyle around the city as though I were stored in Jenny's handbag.

9. Tribute To Corey Haim - I spent days hovering over my VCR, watching Haim's classic films. So many valuable hours, wasted watching "Silver Bullet" and "License To Drive."

8. "My Own Private Celebrity" - Readers pick their favorite obscure heartthrobs. Some of them aren't so obscure anymore!

7. Bahama Mama! - My first on-location G-Spot, on glorious Paradise Island in the Bahamas, and proof that even world-class sunrays can't tan my bony white flesh.

6. Oscarmania - A wrap-up of who wore and won what at the Academy Awards. Warning! Do not backtrack to see my predictions of the winners. I was soooo wrong! (Cate Blanchett, you wuz robbed.)

5. Advice to Ben Affleck - My first romantic advice column, tailored to a single celebrity, in this case the then-wounded Ben Affleck. Benny, you still haven't met me for that drink...

4. Garth Brooks - My first guest host, as the disembodied Garth Brooks -- excised from his body during the disastrous Chris Gaines experiment -- leads us through the latest gossip.

3. Teen Controversies - This column spawned weeks of angry letters from teens upset that I would dare deface such acts as Backstreet Boys and N Sync. Runner-up: the slew of letters attacking my Limp Bizkit comments, implying they aren't the most original band in the entire world.

2. L.A. Style (August 10) - My first remote report from the land of sunshine, stars, and silicone. I didn't scoop up as much dirt as my regular Los Angeles spies, but my hotel accommodations were fabu! And that leaves only...

1. Strange Reader Lusts - This has always been my favorite, because it involves feedback from YOU, my most passionate readership. That's what this column's really all about: a forum to voice your questions, gripes, crushes and concerns over the stars drive you wild. Just as Breakup Girl helps solve your crises of the heart, so I try to make sense of the mad world within the spotlight. (And if you sense that maybe, just maybe, this column happens to be parodying the entire gossip scene while dishing it out, well, then, you've always been so astute.)

Next time, my dears, we ponder the Globes so golden, dig a little deeper into those Julia Roberts-Benjamin Bratt rumors, and review "official" celebrity Web sites!

Until "Jane Fonda's Breakup Video" and the return of the leg-warmer,
Gregoire

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