The Fug Girls See the End-Times Coming

Scanning the horizon for signs of the apocalypse, we don't see any plague, pestilence, or marks of the beast. But is that Paris Hilton cuddling the Bible? Hollywood's recent headlines point only to end-times. Take heed, and take cover. The signals are after the jump.

Nicky Hilton Treated Like Real Designer The New York Fashion Week overlords have a wicked sense of humor, rewarding Nicky Hilton's lack of criminal record by letting her debut her ready-to-wear line, Nicholai, during the spring '08 festivities. Yes, the girl who almost never wears shoes that fit, has one failed collection already, and bailed out of presenting in Miami earlier this year because of a "scheduling conflict" (amid rumors it wasn't ready, and stank) has been granted a spot on one of fashion's biggest stages. As if Heatherette wasn't enough of a fiasco.

Lindsay Lohan Turns Wine Into Water Despite signs that the starlet’s second tour in rehab wouldn’t take, everyone’s favorite knife-wielding redhead actually extended her stay at the chichi recovery center Promises. Since her release, she’s voluntarily worn an ankle bracelet that monitors her alcohol intake and has been seen out and about drinking … water. Of course, she's still a personal mess, exchanging tortured MySpace messages with alleged lover Samantha Ronson and allegedly stressing about nude photos stolen off her computer. If we had those problems, we’d be living at the bottom of a wine bottle right now. That she isn't is a miracle.

Scott Baio Is 45 … and Thinks You Care Sure, we loved him as Bob Loblaw on Arrested Development, but beyond that, we haven't thought about Scott Baio since back when we wanted Charles in charge of us. TWENTY YEARS AGO. Yet to our eternal bafflement, he and VH1 thought they had a winner in Scott Baio Is 45 … and Single, as if anyone who loved him Way Back When either (a) cares a whit about his sex life now or (b) appreciates being reminded that if we once wanted to marry him and he is now 45, then we are also old.

Seed Finds Purchase in Nicole Richie's Womb We'd have bet a lifetime supply of cheeseburgers that Nicole's barely visible belly pooch was because she either ate a grape or had a distended stomach due to malnutrition. But the gossip rags swear her womb is with fruit. How can a girl still be fertile when her body mass index matches that of a flea? Is this miraculous conception God's way of forcing her to eat?

Ordained Minister Tori Spelling Clearly, the application didn’t ask about how she didn’t come home to see her dying father when he had a stroke, thereafter estranging herself from her mother, or was married for barely more than a year before taking up with someone else's husband. Is God really that desperate? We’re scared.

Lovitz vs. Dick Is Hollywood’s Juiciest Feud The Post reported earlier this week that Jon Lovitz recently decked wack-job Andy Dick. Unlike most celebrity feuds, this one’s actually got some heft to it: Lovitz reportedly blames for Dick for reintroducing fellow comic Phil Hartman’s wife, Brynn, to cocaine and seems to believe that she never would have killed Hartman if she hadn’t fallen off the wagon. Dick apparently enjoys rubbing this in, up to and including telling Lovitz that he’s placed “the Hartman hex” on him and that Lovitz is “next to die.” It’s pretty rare to come across a Hollywood grudge so dramatic unfolding between two middle-aged men, and rarer still that we side with Jon Lovitz. But here we are.

Gross Society Boy Gets What's Coming to Him Normally in Hollywood, nothing happens to the unapologetic pig who's famous for dating B-list actresses and embarrassing his family. So imagine our surprise when oil heir Brandon Davis was disinherited. We knew he was repellent even before that infamous foul-mouthed on-camera tirade against Lindsay Lohan's ladyparts, but it took getting booted from a family wedding to seal the deal for his parents. Since consequences barely exist in Brandon's universe, this sensible act in defense of good behavior is the biggest harbinger of the apocalypse of all. —The Fug Girls