I’m sure Phelpsy is crying his little eyes out and wiping them with marijuana leaves, because USA Swimming has suspended him for three whole months. I don’t even know what this means. I assume it means he can’t compete, which I assume he is absolutely fine with, because mostly what he wants to do right now is get high and fuck cocktail waitresses. Oh, and they cut off their financial support to Phelps for the same three-month period, effective Thursday. I’m sure this is very hard on Michael, too, because he is deeply dependent on the thousand dollars a month USA Swimming throws his way. It gets deposited every month in the bank account titled “Phelpsy’s Hundred Million Dollars from Endorsements” and he has no idea how he’ll make rent without it.

“This is not a situation where any anti-doping rule was violated, but we decided to send a strong message to Michael because he disappointed so many people, particularly the hundreds of thousands of USA Swimming member kids who look up to him as a role model and a hero,” the federation said in a statement.

Seriously, kids, don’t do drugs or you might accidentally win eight Olympic gold medals over the course of two weeks and get hundreds of millions of dollars in endorsement deals … and then a teensy tiny slap on the wrist from an organization that worships you as a deity.

Oh, and apparently Kellogg’s dropped him, too.

Hey, Michael, if you need someone to console you, you should come to my house. I will suspend your penis inside my vagina for three months.

Thanks archphoenix!

When I first saw him in Varsity Blues, I was all like, “That is the hottest dude ever. I’m in love.” And I was so sure he was going to be this huge star, but then his career just kind of fizzled, and then he made Eight Below, which was like the career equivalent of jumping the shark. And he totally didn’t live up to his hotness potential, either. I call it Ryder Strong Syndrome.

I’m really glad I fell out of love with him awhile back, because otherwise the news that he’s engaged to a 19-year-old college student would have hit me really hard. Even better: he’s been dating her since she was 16. And he’s 35!

Woah, so he was sleeping with a 16-year-old when he was 32?

That is very ewww-tastic. Especially for someone like Paul Walker, who could score pretty much any pussy he wanted. Adult pussy. I don’t get it.

Anyway, Paul popped the question to Jasmine Pilchard-Gosnell over the holidays.

What do you guys think? Is a 30-something getting married to a teenager ever going to work? I just think of the person I was at 19, and it’s so remarkably different from the person I am today, and the things I want now are light years away from the things I wanted at 19. Maybe Paul’s sure he knows what he wants, but this girl can’t possibly be!

The star of Confessions of a Shopaholic — and Sacha Cohen’s baby mama — wore this to the NYC premiere of the flick. I can’t say I love the dress (and I can say I hate the shoes), and, to be honest, homegirl doesn’t really know how to work a red carpet. It’s obvious she’s had training, but the poses and the faces still come off a bit forced. She’s a fantastic actress, but maybe modeling’s not her thing.

It’s Isla Fisher’s first film role as a leading lady.

Can the comedienne carry a film as well as her boyfriend can?

We’ll find out!

You know, I gotta admit, he does look 100% better now that he’s healthy and not fat and yelling all the time. He was looking way gross toward the end there.

I wonder if the newly single Paris Hilton will be knocking on his doorstep again.

Here’s the dirt:

After 10 years of struggling with alcohol and drugs, Backstreet Boy Nick Carter knew he had a problem. But nothing could make him stop for more than a few months at a time – not a DUI, a bar brawl, or even his ballooning weight, which reached 224 lbs.

After experiencing mild chest discomfort and fatigue on while on tour with his band in Europe last spring, Carter scheduled a series of tests with a Florida cardiologist.

But the night before his results were due back, Carter, 29, fell into a familiar routine: “I went out and just went nuts,” Carter tells PEOPLE in its new issue. “I drank so much and I did a bunch of blow. I felt like I was trying to kill myself – because I didn’t want to get the results.”

The years of abusing his body led to a shocking diagnosis: cardiomyopathy, a weakening of the heart muscle that, in extreme cases, can require a transplant or lead to sudden death.

Faced with the realization that his life depended on getting sober, Carter made a decision: “I don’t want to die,” he says. “I don’t want to be that person people read about and think, ‘That’s sad that he couldn’t stop it and killed himself.’”

After a few slips early on – and some blunt talk from his cardiologist – Carter sobered up and got healthy. At 167 lbs., he’s now in the best shape of his life.

Today, says Carter, life is “awesome.”

Aww, ya know, I don’t even feel like talking shit. This is great news for Nick, and I like that he got sober without making a huge public deal about it. I’ve long felt that an addiction to fame goes hand-in-hand with an addiction to drugs for these people, and when they have a PR field day with their sobriety, it’s not very likely to stick. I hope he continues to live a healthy life and is able to set a positive example for his fans.

But 167 pounds? Is kind of small for a guy for my tastes. Sure, he’s cut, but put on some weight, Nick! I like my men BIG.

At the Berlin Film Festival’s screening of The International.

Oh, yay, La Lohan’s back … and she’s driving!

Yes, it’s true, Los Angeles: Lindsay Lohan is BACK ON THE ROAD. She’s got her license back after her DUI.

Lindsay was riding solo during the day yesterday, but she met up with Samantha Ronson later in the day to attend a Vanity Fair party. And in the Vanity Fair photos, she’s clutching that same marbled notebook.

I wonder what’s in it.

I don’t think it’s a food diary, because no one wants to have to write down that they ate a bag of Doritos and a Coke.

She’s probably just jotting down little gems of genius for an upcoming book of poetry. It will be called Leaves of Marijuana. Because, uh, here’s what she looked like at the party that night. A little bit o’ red in the eyes …