So the Yankees are in town – ho hum. The big news swirling around their visit is that A-Rod is cheating on his wife with a buxom blonde bunny.

A couple of days ago the New York Post splashed a pic of Alex Rodriguez leaving a strip club in Toronto with a "mystery blonde". Apparently the women spotted with the Yankee slugger is Joselyn Noel Morse — a (gasp) stripper! No kidding like we couldn’t tell from her over-processed hair and ample bosom.

Anyway, Cynthia, his stylish wife, who has family in Lowell, flew up to Boston to an eye on her wandering hubby. They were spotted dining at No. 9 Park and took no questions for the reporters waiting for them.

We don’t care who A-Rod is rounding the bases with, long as it is not at Fenway tonight!

Following the MTV Movie Awards last night, Paris Hilton surrendered herself to the Los Angeles County Jail at Lynwood for her 23-day sentence.

The Heir-head was all smiles for her mug shot. TMZ is reporting that her first meal consisted of toast, juice and cereal. No smoked salmon here!

Paris will be in solitary for the next 24 hours. No word yet if she will or will not have a cell mate.

Paris Hilton is not doing too well during her stint in jail. She is cold, has no pillow and only three blankets. She also is not eating and has been crying most of the time there.

On the upside, Hiltie didn't have to subject herself to a cavity serach when she was booked.

Paris Hilton is a free woman!

TMZ is reporting that Hitlie was released from jail early this morning after serving oly three days of her 23 day sentence.

The Los Angeles County Sheriff's Office is set to hold a press conference within an hour to update the public of why she was released so early. This gives a whole new meaning to good behavior.

Last weekend I did something that I have never done before. It was a bit traumatizing and left me feeling empty inside.

I stayed in.

That’s right, I made it through a weekend of not going to a party, cookout, pub, bar, nightclub, watering hole, dive, lounge or whatever else you call the social scene. No, I wasn’t in mourning over Paris Hilton’s stint in jail, but boy those Hollywood Hills are going to be quiet with Hiltie in the clinker and Lindsay Lohan in rehab. This is your chance, Shannen Doherty, to make it back on the pages of Us Weekly.

That hollowness I felt could be due to the liquid empty calories I skipped. Who knows, but the void is causing me to have sobriety induced writer’s block. Without my martini muse, I am at a loss for words.

Maybe this is why after three hours, I am still staring at a blank page. I think I may have even gotten a fabulous tan from the glow of the computer screen.

My method to solving this: E-mailing my friends to ask them what I should write my column about. You would think the people that I surround myself with have very exciting interesting lives. That they would be the Lindsay, Paris, Nicole and Britney of Mill City.

Ah, not so much (sorry, guys).

Seems like we all did a little detoxing this weekend. After that Memorial Day bender— it was in order. Other than not being able to fill this column with something interesting this week I have an entirely different dilemma.

After staying in reading magazines, organizing my flip flops by their versatility, watching a Real World marathon and giving my MySpace a long overdue makeover I went to bed at a decent time on Sunday. Right after (stop reading now if you missed The Sopranos or are under 18) fat boy Bobby was killed while fondling a model train and Silvio was gunned down in front of a brigade of braless pole acrobats, I drifted off to dream about my boss. Totally kidding, but do I get that raise now?

The next morning I awoke bright-eyed and practically danced my way into the shower. For once in my career I arrived at work on time, on a Monday with my hair washed (another first). Feeling pretty chipper, I waltzed into work and the first person that I said good morning to responds with, “Jeez, rough weekend?”.

Are you kidding me?

Moral of this column is — maybe Lohan is smarter than we all thought. Staying home on the weekends does not do the body good.

Can you tell I was stabbing at the wind here? E-mail any suggestions to cure writer’s block to lowellita@lowellsun.com.

Cops are saying Paris Hilton was released from jail for medical reasons. She has been placed under house arrest and will be monitored for the next 40 days.

That ankle bracelet is so going to clash with her Jimmy Choos!

After being released 24 hours ago, Paris Hilton was ordered back to court then to jail by a Los Angeles County Superior Court.

Judge Michael Sauer said, before Hiltie was set free he was called by the Sheriff who recommended a motion to place Paris under house arrest. Judge Sauer said, "There's no way I would have approved it even if I got the motion."

The prosecutor, Dan Jeffries, is accusing the Sheriff of "assuming all three roles of the criminal justice system," claiming "Sheriff Lee Baca is interpreting the law all by himself."

Paris was lead from the courtroom crying and screaming.

"It's not right!" shouted Hilton. "Mom!" she called out to her mother in the audience.

Who does every other prisoner call collect when they get phone privleges? Why Barbara Walters of course!

Inmate 9818783 or Paris Hilton chatted with The View matriach on Sunday. We so wish Rosie O'Donnell was still there for this one. Hiltie told Walters that her "act" is now over and she will no longer play a dumb blonde.

The heir-head says that, "God has released" her spirit from its previous incarnation. Her new mission will be to take on charity causes for breast cancer . She also wants to open the Paris Hilton Playhouse for disabled children. Maybe she will play Mother Teresa after all (remember that?)

Of course, she did tell Walters that her face is dry because she has no moisturizer — nothing has changed there.

I am getting ill just writing this item but...

there are rumblings in the celebrity gossip world that Shar Jackson is seven weeks pregnant with KEVIN FEDERLINE'S baby! If you remember the "Moesha" star has two children already with K-Fed, he then dumped her and married Britney Spears who he also has two sons with.

Didn't the Fed-Ex pay attention in health class?!?

I am praying that this is just a rumor and also that Paris Hilton has not become religious!

******UPDATE***** Apparently both Jackson and Federline are saying it is not true. Thank God!

Everybody has one. Everybody knows one. Some of us are one, but we’ll never admit it. And I am not talking about a below-the-belt body part. Who do you think I am the Playboy adviser? Although, sometimes I secretly wish I was.

What I am speaking of is a rapidly spreading dating disease with no known cure — the psycho-ex epidemic.

Most of us revel in the demise of our exes. Who says it is not appropriate to cut out the arrest log, highlight their name and stick it to the fridge with the magnet you got when you went on a torturous trip to the coast of Maine and he asked, “You think you should wear THAT to the beach?”

That example is very befitting to the situation. No one is getting hurt here. Except maybe him by Tatted Toothless Two Ton Timmy — his new bunk bed buddy.

(Insert uncontrollable laughter here.)

Of course, it is also harmless fun to take the picture of him in his best Hulk-a-Mania pose wearing only your thong and send it out on a MySpace bulletin. Good ol’ Timmy will be seeing lots of that anyway.

(Queue up the laugh track again.)

Darn, now my mascara is running down my cheeks from the laughter-induced tears. I’ve got to remember to buy waterproof next time. What a perfect excuse if I am caught driving through his neighborhood, which just so happens to be around the corner from the drug store. Actually, it’s about a half a mile in the other direction, but who’s keeping track?

That’s a joke. I am not a psycho-ex, though I am sure there are some out there that would definitely disagree. Look, I told you a million times I am sorry about your dog. How was I supposed to know he would drink the antifreeze after I punctured your truck’s radiator? Get over it already.

This is much less of a riot when you are the present paramour of someone who is psycho-plagued. Especially when you were the other woman. You know, the one who preyed upon his weakness for long dark hair, big brown eyes and candy pink lip gloss.

Blah, blah, blah. You wouldn’t be an ex if you didn’t nag him about band practice, follow him to his best buddy’s bachelor party and make him wear that seersucker suit to your cousin’s Cape wedding. You and the depressed dog boy should look each other up so you can compare and contrast who is more bitter over dollar drafts some lovely evening.

Call me. I’ll set it up.

Disclaimer: The situations and people depicted in this column are not real, but if this sounds like your life do not e-mail lowellita@lowellsun.com.

Lindsay Lohan is being sued by Raymundo Ortega who says she was wasted after leaving The Ivy in West Hollywood and crashing into his van. He is also suing The Ivy since LiLo was only 19 in 2005 when the incident occured.

The lawsuit says that the smashion plate was dining at The Ivy, "where she consumed alcohol and became intoxicated" minutes before the wreck. It also alleges that "The Ivy's conduct of serving alcoholic beverages to Lohan was a factor in causing the injuries to Ortega."

Ortega said that he saw Lohan "driving recklessly" at 60 MPH to avoid the paparazzi. He is seeking $200,000 in damages.

TMZ is reporting that actress Julia Roberts gave birth to a son this morning. Roberts and her hubby, Danny Moder, had a son, Henry Daniel at Cedars Sinai Medical Center.

Congrats to Roberts and Moder!

There is an APB out on a person with the following description: a man, about 6’2” with broad shoulders, a permanent five o’clock shadow, disheveled dark brown hair, piercing green eyes, pink pouty lips and that chiseled hip-bone muscle only swimmers’ possess.

He will more than likely be driving a luxury SUV — say a Porsche Cayenne. He enjoys sitting on the beach at dusk with a bottle of Albarino talking about how he is passionate about helping Bono save Africa. He believes the band Muse makes Radiohead look like amateurs and appreciates the artistry in The Sopranos series finale because it was deeper than meets the eye.

He is as at home hanging at the dive bar listening to scrappy college musicians, as he is sipping dirty martinis at a swanky jazz lounge. He knows how to change the oil in your car and can cook a five-star meal from the leftovers in your fridge.

Has anyone seen this man? Does anyone know someone who fits this description?
Neither do I.

In this case, APB does not stand for All Points Bulletin, but A Perfect Beau. I have a feeling it is just a myth. A true figment of our imagination left over from our girlhood fantasies.
Blame it all on Walt Disney. Of course it was a man who led us to believe that someday our prince would come — driving a white Jaguar. Then he’d sweep us off our cork wedges and we’d ride off into the Tahitian sunset.

We can also place some of the blame on men on television like tortured trust fund baby, Dylan McKay. Whenever tragedy struck the 90210 resident bad boy, he would fall into a downward spiral of red wine and fast motorcycle driving. The depth of his tormented soul plus his bank account kept us looking for our own rich renegade. The kid owned and lived in his own house during high school, that alone is enough to send a teenage girl into heat.

I found out quickly in high school that Dylan McKays absolutely do not exist. The closest thing I came to the sideburn Svengali, was a skater with a mother who took off to the Cape most weekends leaving us to crash in his garrison drinking Canadian Club, refilling the bottle with flat root beer. His motorcycle was a beat-up jalopy he found in the trash.

Most of us in our 20s have given up finding our knight in shining Armani. The most tragic ending of an adult women’s life is finding out that the moral of the story is what we always feared: All the good ones are married, gay or on their way to Africa to save the world.

Anonymous tips, locations or sightings of an APB should be sent to lowellita@lowellsun.com.

Director Wes Craven is not too happy with his neighbor comedian and surfer boy Pauly Shore. The horro movie maven is suing the Weeeeezel for unspecified damages saying that Shore neglected his property causing a landslide at the Craven estate.

Craven says Pauly, failed to maintain his yard, pool, spa, sprinklers, irrigation, swales, downspouts and slopes. This resulted in "water from the Shore Property intruded and infiltrated the Craven Property causing a slope failure/landslide" in December, 2006.

Craven also claims he "suffered and will continue to suffer severe emotional distress and anxiety..."

Give me a break! This is the guy who directed Nightmare on Elm Street, Scream, etc. I think he was suffering from a mental imbalance already!

After much denying and speculation, Eddie Murphy IS the father of Melanie "Scary Spice" Brown's baby.

This past April, Murphy divorce his ex-wife Nicole. The comedian and star has five children with Nicole and another son from a previous relationship.

Paris Hilton is quickly becoming America's most wanted. The jailed heir-head, who is set to be released today, has been offered a cool $1 million to speak at the The Learning Annex Real Estate and Wealth Expos in Seattle, Chicago, New York and yes locals — Boston.

Hiltie would teach an hour long class called "How to Build Your Brand." She would use her knowledge (yeah right) and experience to teach us minions on how to get noticed. Hopefully getting arrested or making a sex tape is not involved.

According to TMZ, the offer is the second highest speaking fee ever offered in the world, behind The Learning Annex's star instructor, Donald Trump.

Inmate 9818783 or better known as Paris Hilton was released from jail yesterday after serving her 23 day sentence.

A happy and makeup free Heir-head left Lynnwood shaking a few correction officer's hands and waving to a mass of waiting parparazzi before hopping in her parents luxury SUV. She reportedly lost 10 pounds from her already thin frame due to refusing to eat the jail's cafeteria food.

We wonder what her first meal was following her release? No word yet if Tinkerbell came rushing to her side when she stepped through her door.

Paris Hilton will speak tonight on Larry King Live at 9 p.m.

Tune in to CNN to witness for the first time a brand new era a celeb-reality.

Remember Lindsay Lohan? Remember she crashed her Mercedes SL-65 and fled the scene about a month ago?

Since LiLo entered rehab she has been flying under the parparazzi radar. Well, that is all about to end. The Beverly Hills Police Department released the tabloid tartlet's toxicology report today.

Nothing unexpected here...
Lohan's blood-alcohol level was twice the legal limit. Oh and by the way she is only 20. There was also a trace amount of cocaine found in her system.

Police are expected to turn the information over to the Los Angeles District Attorney's Office.

Former all female pop group The Spice Girls announced today that they will reunite for an 11 city tour this winter.

After almost a 10 year hiatus Scary Spice, Sporty Spice, Posh Spice, Baby Spice and Ginger Spice will take the stage together.

Maybe they can give Britney Spears some pointers on how to properly lip sing.

Photo from TMZ.com.

Once again, I was right.
I said Britney Spears was going to rehab. She went to Wonderland.
You said I was the next to go to rehab. I said no, no, no.
I claimed everyone has a psycho ex.
Your tires were slashed.

Last week, my column was about how there is no such thing as a perfect beau, or as I dubbed it, an APB. It is a figment of our imagination left over from a childhood of reading fairy tales and watching trashy soap operas with our baby-sitters.

You told me, you just haven’t met the right one yet.

Yes, I did. Twice. One just this week — he is gay. The other I have lusted after for two years — he is married. Now, all I have to do is fall for a guy who is taking the next flight out of Logan to work with the refugees in Darfur.

This is getting old, guys. I beg you, someone please prove me wrong for once.
Actually, I take that back. The plea I put out in the previous column for anonymous tips, locations or sightings of an APB went horribly awry — just proving my theory even further.
Don’t believe me? Here are a couple samples …

I’m having real trouble coming up with someone that fits your (rather specific) desires. Tom Brady meets most of them, but he is unavailable. Oh, wait, you already wrote that column.
I have various nephews, but none are 6’ 2”. The one closest is probably too young. He does, however, come from a family with money. Alas, like Mr. Brady, he has a serious girlfriend, who’s probably the jealous type. And he lives in Bermuda, not the LA.
Oh, well. Maybe your article will result in multiple volunteers.

Thanks. Did you e-mail me to (A) rub it in that I don’t have a Brady on board? (B) rub it in that your nephew is wealthy, but has a girlfriend? (C) rub it in that your nephew is wealthy, resides on a tropical island and has a jealous girlfriend? Or (D) all of the above.
If your answer is (D), you are correct.
Oh, by the way, I did get some volunteers. Here’s one. The original e-mail was sent to me in all caps, but it adds to the reason behind why an APB is a fictional character.

Read your column this week and found it to be interesting. So here are my thoughts on the matter. I am going to do it piece by piece, so let’s see how close I come to that “APB.”
First of all, it is not a luxury SUV, but a green Chrysler convertible Sebring. May not be six feet tall, not even close — only 5’6. The five o’clock shadow — yes; broad shoulders — yes from playing football at Lowell High for the late Ray Riddick in the ’70s and also wrestling for George Bossi in the same time frame.
The motorcycle is only two years old and it is a nice cruising motorcycle. Piercing hazel eyes — I have been told that a thousand times over. And I can cook, as I am a cook and love to do things to food, from scratch. I have a meatball that will blow your socks off with a special ingredient I will never reveal — that is my secret.
The Sopranos ... I am a true believer in that series. Loved it!
And as for the last part, sitting in a swanky joint listening to music, it is the Worthen.
So that sums it all up for me, Lowellita .......... “Close, but no cigar.”
p.s. I forgot to mention that I have been told that I have a killer smile. Beautiful white teeth, non-smoker ... was into sports when I was younger.

I am not kidding. This is a real e-mail, that was edited a bit to save this reader from being too identifiable. The question is — is he kidding? For once I am at a loss for words.
OK, I can deal with him bragging about driving a chick car and revealing he was in high school before I was born. But the meatball?
Please, I beg you, God, in my next life make me a stylish gay man, who despises Bermuda shorts.
If you think you can prove me wrong, e-mail lowellita@lowellsun.com.

Brit songstress, Lily Allen, wasn't smiling when she turned herself in to the police yesterday in London. The 21-year-old singer is less of a wild child than her contemporary, Amy Winehouse, but is known to drink a few, chain smoke and throw punches.

It is alleged that on March 13, Allen was exiting the Wardour club in Soho and walking to the Groucho. She began swinging and kicking at a pack of parparazzi following her, breaking someone's nose.

Seems pretty hard to do since she is usually photographed with a bottle in one hand and cigarette in the other.