Oh, it’s been ever so sad lately!

The weather in LA is warming up, and Lindsay’s has little excuse to wear her leggings — she’s been sporting a series of little dresses instead.

Thank goodness she’s in NYC now, where she can pull them back on, and the world can have an extra layer of fabric between themselves and the Lo-gina. Here she is leaving a Greenwich Village spot called Bar Pitti.

Why is she in NYC, you ask?

Oh, no reason, really, it’s just that some people decided to make a fucking photo exhibit out of her tattoos and she’s in town to host the opening night. Yeah, you read that right. Lindsers selected pictures from her favorite photographers — photos she feels “represents the mood behind her tattoos” — and they’re doing a freaking art exhibit about it. Her tats include “La Bella Vita” on her back, and the word “breathe” and a star on her wrist.

My goodness. She’s a living work of art. Seriously? Those aren’t, like, particularly artistic tattoos. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with them, I just don’t find myself thinking, like, “I’d really like to delve further into why Lindsay Lohan has a star on her wrist.”

One of my best friends got her ears pierced this weekend, and I went along for the ride. We went to get them done at a tattoo parlor, and they had all sorts of tattoo options on posters on the walls. I had plenty of time to wait, so I looked over them all. Some were cute, some were cool but not appealing to me personally, and some were absolutely disgusting. One was the word “Bitch” wrapped around — no joke — a tampon, string and all. Another said “Suck Ass” and was a picture of an ass, a cock and balls, and a straw sticking out from the asshole. I asked the tattoo guy, “Do people actually get shit like this tattooed on their bodies?” He said yes indeed. He said one girl came in and requested a faux necklace tattooed around her neck, like a pearl necklace, except, instead of pearls, she wanted penises. He said she already had tattoos on her back of swastikas made out of penises. I really could have vomited right then and there. No joke; I felt physically ill. This is not a person I have any desire to meet. I consider myself to be fairly open-minded, with a willingness to accept people’s chosen lifestyles, but when you’ve managed to combine Nazism and penises — and identify with the combo via multiple permanent body alterations — I don’t think we can ever be friends. Rather, I wish you’d leave my planet and never return.

The point is this: if you’re going to do an art exhibit about someone’s tattoos, is Lindsay Lohan really the most interesting choice?

And the kids clamoring with excitement for Lindsay?

I’m going to let you guys handle the snark on that one.

America’s favorite dancing virgin is hoping to become the country world’s favorite singing virgin.

Julianne Hough (pronounced “Huff,” in case you’re curious), is releasing a self-titled album on Mercury Nashville, and will be hitting the road on tour with Brad Paisley.

Above you’ll find her single, “That Song In My Head.” I mean, she’s not a musical miracle or anything, but it’s a catchy country tune, and she’s got a solid country voice. Taylor Swift better watch her pretty little virgin back.

Talk all the shit you want, this chick is gonna be huge. Huge. I’m calling it right now.

Here’s Rachel at a press junket for Married Life in LA.

Remember when she was rocking the pink hair? I dug that. I have half a mind to put pink streaks in my own hair, but every time I think about it I’m just like, “Yeah, but I don’t have anything to wear with it.” Can’t have my hair clashing with my outfit, now can I?

I’ll let you guys weigh in on the hair, but I do have to say that the dress is not especially flattering. It looks like her boobs are being squished. If there’s one universal truth about boobs, it’s that you shouldn’t wear anything that squishes them.

Not that watching your twenty-something flesh and blood endure years of life-threatening mental health crises isn’t reward enough, but now Britney Spears’ dad has something else to brag about: he’s on his daughter’s payroll.

A court has ordered Britney’s estate to pay Jamie Spears $2,500 in weekly compensation and authorized him to lease a car, just after they extended his conservatorship of Britney through this summer.

You know, we kept patiently waiting for Britney’s mother to do something to help her, when, in fact, what she really needed was her daddy.

“It was my hope that in texting both ladies, I would make it onto Page Six, so everybody wins.”

Jeremy Piven, who got busted texting ‘Come meet me’ to two models he met separately at a party in NYC. Unbeknownst to Piven, the two women were friends, and showed each other the text messages and laughed about it. This is what Jeremy — who’s supposed to be exclusively dating model Lillian Grant — had to say when Page Six confronted him with the story.

I adore this guy.

Here’s Xtina in her new set of ads for Stephen Webster jewelry.

Says Webster:

“She was a real coup for us. She’s our longest-term regular client and the right age for the brand. We think she’s in the most glamorous period of her life right now, and she is the main source of inspiration behind the collection.”

Interestingly enough, I don’t particularly like the jewelry — I think it’s heavy and overwrought — but I love Christina here. I think she looks gorgeous.