Katie Holmes used those uber-buff legs of hers to sprint (in heels!) toward an awaiting helicopter, leaving Manhattan after attending the premiere of her flick The Extra Man.

Katie’s a pretty girl and all, but this isn’t the best I’ve seen her look. I’m not sure what’s off — maybe she’s just tired, and also I hate her dress and don’t understand why she’d wear it to a film premiere and Lord only knows what’s hanging off that necklace and her hair looks overdone — but something seems less magical about her than usual in this set of pics.

Thoughts?

And here I thought it was just because she was a fame-hungry, fuck-at-any-cost ho. Silly me!

RadarOnline released exclusive emails between Rachel and Tiger while they were “dating” (that were presumably sent to Radar by Rachel herself) that claimed both parties were addicted to pills:

“Would it be possible for you to get us some more Ambien,” Woods wrote to Uchitel in a November, 2009 email.

Uchitel responded, “Ok, but we need to talk about this. I don’t know how to deal with us possibly being addicted to prescription meds.”

“What can I say to make you stop taking Ambien excessively? What can I do to prove that I’m worried?” [Says Uchitel]

“I feel like taking pills is my only alternative!” Woods answered to Uchitel’s concern.

Now, to be clear, the couple weren’t, you know, cracked-out zombies that took high-powered sedatives to zone out. Supposedly they were taking the pills for another, more lurid, reason: the idea that some who take Ambien have instant sexual gratification-type results almost immediately after taking the pills.

So they’d dope out on sleeping pills and fuck ’til the cows came home … or until one of them passed out in a drug-induced stupor that resulted in unconscious eating and some more sleep sex.

Uh … win?

So, like, every critic said that his latest flick, Airbender sucked (and though I didn’t see it, I have to concur, because he should just totally stick to creepy movies like Signs, The Village, and The Happening), and he’s getting awfully defensive and antsy over the bad reviews.

When a reporter asked him a rather long-winded question about whether or not he “sold out commercially,” he quipped:

“I think if I thought like you, I would kill myself.”

Is he rude, or just truthful? Has he sold out commercially, or has his head expanded to the size of his prior creeptastic movie franchise, and he’s just being super-protective of his latest (bomb!) baby? Or maybe he’s just smart as a whip, wicked influential and not afraid of telling someone to fuck off.

I’m going with the last.  Damn, damn reporters.

So, Lindsay’s official surrender time is 11:30 AM ET (or 8:30 AM PST, if you’re on the West Coast in the US), and everyone’s wondering if she’s going to show.

I’ve been watching the TMZ live feed since it began about a half hour ago, and it never ceases to amaze me that there are some pretty vultured-out people out there in the world. I mean, I’m pretty voyeuristic when it comes to this kind of stuff (most people are, whether they want to believe it or not), but the guys and girls lined up outside of the courthouse are all like, “Dude! There’s an open spot here, come stand next to me!”, acting like it’s Christmas or a huge line to get tickets to their favorite show or whatever. I’m sitting here, with bated breath, rapt attention, and hoping sincerely that I don’t have to pee for the next twenty minutes or so. PS, TMZ: E! Online’s video stream is way better.

But whatever. Twenty-two minutes to go ’til Lindsay’s deadline arrives. Will she make it, or will we start receive breaking reports that she’s been hospitalized or something?

Stay tuned …

[Update 11:10 AM ET: Security guards are telling everyone to back up "about a foot." Looks like she might be on her way soon. They always know stuff we don't.]

[Update 11:15 AM ET: I just overheard someone saying that she's left "the house." Let's hope she's not late.]

[Update 11:17 AM ET: Fucking Michael Lohan arrives!!!]

[Update 11:19 AM ET: Lots of trashy-looking people arriving for other court-related infractions, basking in the fact that they're on camera. You can hear Michael in the background saying, "Just leave my daughter alone."]

[Update 11:22 AM ET: Still no Lindsay. Dude, move your hairy elbow. I just knew I'd have to go to the bathroom before this was all over. Sheriffs still telling people to back up.]

[Update 11:26 AM ET: Four minutes 'til deadline. Wouldn't you just die if she didn't show up? I don't know how much longer I can hold it!]

[Update 11:31 AM ET: OK. The time has come ... and gone. Still no Lindsay. Leave it to the Beav to be fashionably late. People are still being all festive and jovial-like.]

[Update 11:37 AM ET: SHE ARRIVES! Pandemonium ensues, insanity everywhere! People yelling, "DON'T FUCKING PUSH ME!", fights breaking out, Lindsay's practically RUNNING. Oh, and my internet crashed.]

[Update 11:43 AM ET: Lindsay looks like she's having an anxiety attack in the courtroom. Lawyer's trying to pull out stops on "completing programs," hoping that it'll sway the Judge. Heh. As if. ... Cameras are off, but audio's still running. Dammit.]

[Update 11:47 AM ET: I hear handcuffs!! She's been remanded to serve her sentence NOW, and off she goes!]

[Update 11:50 AM ET: People outside holding signs saying, "Free Lindsay!" and screaming, "Let Lindsay go!" Jeez.]

[Update 12:31 PM ET:  Lindsay's caravan is still on its way to the jail, where tons of people are awaiting her arrival.  Can't imagine what she's feeling, sitting inside that official silver car.]

[Update 12:47 PM ET: Lindsay’s caravan has arrived (two cars) and has pulled into a tarp-covered bay at the correctional facility. As of this time, Lindsay’s literally in jail.

Hey you guys I bet I’m the only blogger on the planet who thought of that headline. Get it??? Because “salt” is kind of a “spice”? (Is salt actually a spice?)

Chicken Legs Jolie and someone who may or may not have been Brad Pitt (we cannot know for sure because he never takes off his damn sunglasses), hit up the big premiere of Salt, the summer blockbuster wherein Angelina Jolie continues to redefine the role of women in action flicks.

I guess all is well with Angie and her father again, because Jon Voight was present and accounted for, along with Angelina’s brother and pre-Brad make-out partner James Haven.

Angie stopped to take photos with fans (really, really cute — because the fans couldn’t cross the rope, Angie took their cameras and held them up to take the photos herself, the way you do with all your girlfriends in a bar when you don’t trust any of the nearby douchebags to touch your camera), chatted with costar Liev Schreiber, and greeted Naomi Watts with a big hug. Kristin Cavallari was inexplicably there (good publicist, I suppose), but luckily Angelina Jolie didn’t take a photo with her (the world would explode).

All things considered, Angelina looks great here. She rarely does these red carpets anymore, but she looks the happiest I’ve seen her look in a long time. She’s still incomparably beautiful, but it’s been gradually turning into a more mature sort of beauty and less of a gasp! sexpot! kind of beauty. I like that for her. I do wish she’d eat a little more, but, all in all, I really enjoyed going through this set of pics. It’s always nice to see Angelina doing her thing.

So, yep. Lindsay goes to jail today. Or is it Mr. Deeds Goes to Town? Ernest Goes to Camp? None of them are even as remotely as amusing or compelling as the flight to save Lindsay Lohan from her worst enemy — herself.

Old Linds took to her Twitter late last night to send a last-ditch appeal to her fans (not that, you know, her fans have anything to do with keeping her out of jail, but I’ll give her an E for Effort on this one) using the old Disney ploy.

Oh, Lindsay. Good luck today, dude. I know that no filming is gonna be allowed after the Sheriffs officially shackle your ass, but I’m hoping that there’s going to be some crazy pap out there with a grainy-assed camera phone that captures the best of your Botox-limited facial expressions on tape — the angst and the lip-pursing alike.