Oscar fever is boiling my furrowed brow, oh my lovely ones, but I've been neglecting some rather saucy love scandals that have surfaced in the past week. In fact, two, big potential pair-ups were soundly debunked this week, one being the admittedly fantastical pairing of Jennifer Lopez and Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit. The two were seen trolling through Gucci's in Beverly Hills together, calling each other "honey" and, in a moment of 21st century foreplay, sharing a cell phone. Ooh la la! The real story, however, is a tad less scandalous, I'm afraid. The two arrived at Gucci's separately, and when Durst, who knows Lopez as all stars must know each other in that stratosphere of glamour, realized that Jenny was talking to her man Sir Puffo on the phone, he begged to jump in and say howdy to the gun-toting, lite rapper. Jen, certainly accommodating, said sure. Meanwhile, what the hell was Fred doing at Gucci's?

The other faux-pair on the celeb radar was the supposed linking between teen behemoth Britney Spears and 'N Sync frontboy, Justin Timberlake. Britannia's mommy was stunned to read scandal sheet reports that her daughter, who claimed to be staying with friends while on tour, was really in fact cohabitating with Justin when she was in New York. Spears' press reps claim it's all rumor, and I suppose I could pry a little further, but frankly, I'm just not too interested in finding out, are you? Besides, Brit's mother won't have to worry about her chesty daughter this weekend, as Justin will be at the Academy Awards performing the Oscar-nominated song "Music Of The Heart" with his four other boyfriends and Gloria Estefan. Justin, with an Oscar? Relax, dear readers, the song was written by Celine Dion ballad-feeder Diane Warren. And it doesn't stand a snowman's-chance-in-Ecuador of winning! (See below for my comprehensive Oscar predictions.)

Speaking of 'N Stink, er, 'N Sync, as you read this I am currently being held hostage here at the Time Square HoJo, because the five, scrawny pop stars are on MTV's Total Request Live before their appearance across the street at the Times Square Virgin Megastore. It is projected that over 6.5 billion teenage girls will cram themselves between these four city blocks to catch glimpse of these friendly but somewhat average looking boys. (Actually, two of them are cute and two of them are really ugly, so the mean cuteness is, in fact, a neutral average.) Well, I guess it's not like I leave here anyway. Martini time!

Someday My Prinze Jr. Will Come

Because our own love lives are either nonexistent, inadequate, or boring, we often dwell upon the romantic minutiae of famous teens. It's true, and I'm proud of that! If knowing the exact date of Christina Aguilera's first kiss gets you through another day of loneliness, then I say we mine her private life for all it's worth! Other young stars aren't as giving however. Take Sarah Michelle Gellar, for instance, who becomes a queen of contradiction as well as a vampire slayer in a recent lengthy TV Guide article saying that she never discusses her romantic life, even as she was discussing it! She claims she never dated Jerry O'Donnell or David Boreanz (why the hell not?!) and says that she keeps those she truly loves far away from the glare of the camera. She claims that her devotion to privacy has supposedly lost her interviews with major magazines, and she can't understand how anybody can maintain a truly romantic relationship in the public spotlight. "I try not to date actors, because I know how insecure and crazy we are. I can't imagine going out with another one of me," she tells the magazine. Well, they can clone pigs now, Sarah, so I'm sure we'll be able to test your theory in a matter of years!

In the same article, she also denies any link to Freddie Prinze Jr., though that doesn't explain the numerous sightings of the young duo canoodling in virtually every restaurant in Los Angeles. In keeping with Sarah's comments, her people deny the affair, though Freddie's camp is proudly admitting to the affair. Advice to young Fred: look to your previous work for guidance in this complicated romance. Is she the one?

Celebrity Quote Of The Week

"I gotta say, my husband [John Travolta] lo-o-oooves it when I'm pregnant. He's like, 'Wow! How long do we get these [breasts]? Do we have to give them back?"

-- Kelly Preston, in Fit Pregnancy Magazine

Even in a world of celebrity press routinely providing us with too much information, this can/should be typified as wa-a-aaay too much information. Kelly, maybe you won't have to give your new ample bosom back. Have you prayed to your Scientology gods, darling?

That Rube, Goldberg

Thank goodness Whoopi Goldberg is skipping out on the Oscars this year; her less-than-amusing shtick would certainly be tainted with vitriol stemming from heartbreak! Just last week the tendril-tressed comedy queen gave her live-in boyfriend, Frank Langella (currently creeping out Johnny Depp in "The Ninth Gate"), the official boot after five years, following an long and loveless duration of Frankie's "not bringing enough to the party," as the Whoopster told the Daily News. The odd-looking pair had been disintegrating for some time, with Whoops asking Frankie to move from her palatial Los Angelese home into the guesthouse (what the famous must refer to as "being in the doghouse"), which he did obediently. Seems that wasn't enough, however, as she kicked him to the curb once returning from filming a batch of "Hollywood Squares" in New York.

Frankly, Frankie, who wants to be known as a boy toy of a Center Square anyway? It didn't work for the boyfriends of Paul Lynde and Jim J. Bullock and, honey, it wasn't workin' for you! Langella is an excellent stage actor, and that is where he should return. Whoopi, I recommend you find an unusual love for your life and certain future on the game show circuit. How 'bout a ventriloquist's doll?

Seen!

With the Life nightclub out of the picture for now, celebrity New Yorkers seem to be flocking to Chaos (the bar, not the theory), a quaint little establishment in my neighborhood in the Lower East Side which used to be a gothic rock bar. (Oh, the days of dousing my all-black wardrobe in patchouli and spinning in circles like a dervish to Bauhaus!) No more Siouxsie Sioux anymore it seems. The boys from 'N Sync were partying there on Wednesday, and a phalanx of fabulons -- including Joaquin Phoenix, Casey Affleck, Li'l Kim and party staple Leonardo DiCaprio (with a goatee!) -- gathered there the next night for both the party for the Affleck film "Buddy Boy" and Queen Latifah's birthday bash, occurring simultaneously. Unfortunately, the festivities were so loud that nobody could hear Mary J. Blige's rendition of "Happy Birthday." Truly a club that lives up to its name!

Meanwhile, a couple blocks over at Lucky Cheng's, the Asian drag queen bar/Chinese restaurant, legendary Heather Locklear was entertaining her former "Melrose Place" coworker Jack Wagner with an elaborate meal and bragging to her friends that the handsome star, now in Broadway's "Jekyll And Hyde," had an amazing tongue. She then provoked Jack to stick it out for all to see. I only wish I could make up stuff this bizarre!

My fabulous pseudo star-sighting of the week: while enjoying cocktails at a boring little party in the Meat Packing District, I struck up a minute conversation with an attractive, well-dressed couple, only to find out much later in the evening that the pair was, in fact, the son and daughter of 80s pop sensation, Jermaine Jackson. Thank goodness I didn't start with my typical ice-breaking questions: "So how big of a freak do YOU think Latoya is?"

Aiming For The Awards

The Oscars to me are better than Christmas because there's no wrapping paper to pick up, and people who don't deserve prizes don't get them which, unlike Christmas, is just needlessly undiscriminating. Who's been naughty or nice for Uncle Oscar this year, you ask? It's a tight race ahead of us at this Sunday's award celebration, but I'm taking a stab at predicting the winners in most of the categories. (I admit, I have no clue which cartoon will win Best Animated Feature. Is Huckleberry Hound in any of them?) Below are my guesses, and if I'm dreadfully wrong, blame 'N Sync.

Best Actor -- Denzel Washington will never win because of bad buzz on his film, "The Hurricane," and that's dreadful. He gives the best performance of the bunch, and would it hurt to reward a talented black actor in a category that hasn't seen a nonwhite winner since the 1960s?! Give this to the "usual suspect" Kevin Spacey.

Best Actress -- Sure, Annette Bening is pregnant; she's Hollywood royalty; she's a proven talent. Blah, blah, blah. Remember the Best Actor race from 1998? It was the critical fave in the little seen film (Geoffrey Rush in "Shine") versus the Hollywood superstar in a successful film (Tom Cruise in "Jerry Maguire"). Rush won that prize, and he's much less attractive than Hilary Swank. Let's just say this: if Swank doesn't win, then whoever does will feel awfully guilty.

Best Supporting Actor -- Hollywood won't give Tom Cruise an Oscar. They like to tease him with it -- prod him suggestively, even -- but they pull away at the last minute. Michael Clarke Duncan seems like a charming fellow, but hopefully he'll win later for playing something other than a scandalous stereotype. Jude's too beautiful to win just yet, and Michael Caine seems too grumpy. Forgetting Anna Paquin and Tatum O'Neal, this award will go to Haley Joel Osment, whose career will then go quickly into the sewer

Best Supporting Actress -- This category has frequently presented the biggest upset, and the front runner in most cases rarely wins. Observe these examples from the 1990s: Anna Paquin over Winona Ryder, Juliette Binoche over Lauren Bacall, Marisa Tomei over, well, everyone else. Using this logic, Angelina Jolie will probably lose. But to whom? Probably not to fellow nominees Catherine Keener (too risqué a role) and Samantha Morton (too obscure). Flip a coin to pick between Toni Collette and Chloe Sevigny. Me? I'm going with Chloe.

Best Director -- Lasse Hallstrom, the director of "The Cider House Rules," has the seniority in this category, but nobody named Lasse is going to win anything. Sam Mendes, man of "American Beauty," will pick up this one easily.

Best Picture -- If anything other than "American Beauty" wins, expect a riot.

Other things to expect:

A "Matrix" sweep of the technical categories, including Sound Effects Editing, Sound and Visual Effect. For Best Editing, however, "American Beauty" will beat the Keanu Reeves film. (The Best Editing trophy almost always goes to the eventual winner of Best Picture.)

A surprise win in the Best Cinematography category, with "Sleepy Hollow" hopefully triumphing over its competitors. (Forget that the movie was kinda bad; it looked mondo creepy.) The Christina Ricci horror film should step away with Best Art Direction, too, but will lose Best Costumes to "Topsy Turvy."

Fat Bastard, the corpulent, foul-smelling creation of Mike Myers, will be the primary reason why "Austin Powers 2: The Spy Who Shagged Me" will carry off the Best Make-up award

Although it has no other nominations, expect "Election" as the popular choice in the Best Adapted Screenplay category.

What's scary about the Best Song competition is not who's going to win (the Phil Collins ballad "You'll Be In My Heart"), but rather who sings the "medley" of the tunes: prepare for two minutes performances by Collins, Estefan and 'N Sync, Sarah McLachlan with Randy Newman, Aimee Mann and, in the worst thing I can possibly imagine, Robin Williams singing "Blame Canada" from "South Park." Yes, that's right, my friends, Robin Williams. Make you long for the Debbie Allen choreography, doesn't it?

And finally ...

As the race for Oscar gold heats up this weekend, Gregoire's odds contest for the potential donor for Madonna's new infant has ended. And the winner is ... Guy Ritchie! Madonna has, in fact, confirmed that she's been knocked up by the dashing British film director for three months now. Luckily, having been in tune with the Material Womb for some time, I gave Guy the best odds in the final tally, with Peter Berg and an Anonymous Italian Sperm Donor coming in next. (Sorry, Rosie, you lose!) Congratulations to Guy and his winning donation! The winner will receive a iconic pop figure with morning cramps and a bad British accent, and a spawn who will be able to sing, dance and direct.

Until Fred Durst borrows my cell-phone,
Gregoire

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