The bombs did not fall on Times Square for this year's millennial uber-celebration - in fact, they fell nowhere but in Chechnya, but what's new? However there's still an insidious fallout plaguing the world of celebrity. And it didn't wait until December 31st, either.

The entire week before and the scant days afterwards have been filled with sporadically weird superstar incidents: the whole Puff Daddy-Jennifer Lopez gun thing (more on Ms. Lopez later), Cameron Diaz getting robbed by a metal detector attendant at an airport, George Harrison stabbed by a lunatic. Nutty, I tell you! Elizabeth Taylor gets knighted in London, just hours after Michael Jackson asks for her hand in marriage, to which, quite obviously, she says no. And on top of that, no more Charlie Brown and Snoopy! The banks and computers may be free of Y2K bugs, but for me, the millennium seems to have erupted in a bevy of surreal scandals.

Fabulous Festivities

I survived yet another New Year's Eve at the Times Square HoJo, though I admit I didn't see the ball drop, as I was having champagne in the kitchen with the help. After a year of delicious Reuben sandwiches and chicken fingers, I thought they deserved a little bubbly! Here's a rundown of how the rest of the glamorous spent their celebrations:

* Those frat-boy stars Matt Damon and Ben Affleck went back home to Boston and rented out a bar to ring in the new year, drinking and partying for much of the day and on into the night. No word on whether Winona Ryder was invited or if this was a "boys only" affair.

* Naomi Campbell had a quiet, intimate night at her estate in Kenya - are there unquiet nights in Kenya? -- with her hunky boyfriend Flavio Briatore. Funny, but I don't recall ABC's coverage of Kenya's millennial celebrations. I'll bet there were lots of elephants!

* Also opting for a low-key evening were Julia Roberts and Benjamin Bratt, who spent midnight cuddling at her swanky ranch in New Mexico. I wonder if she stocked up canned goods for an impending Y2K food shortage? Isn't it an arresting sight thinking of Julia opening a can of pork and beans?

* Don Johnson wasn't partying either - whatever happened to the superstar coke-binges and orgies, for God's sakes? - because his wife (who's 20 years younger) just had a new baby girl, little Atherton Grace Johnson. (Yet another celebrity abuse of children's names!) This is Donny's third spawn; the other two he had with lip queen Melanie Griffith and Patti D'Arbanville. The family rang in the dawning century with diapers.

* Madonna opted for a more traditional celebration in South Beach with her is-he-or-isn't he boyfriend Guy Ritchie (director of "Lock, Stock, And Two Smoking Barrels") and the usual entourage, including Ingrid Cesares. Did they see Ricky Martin, I wonder? He practically haunts the South Beach scene.

* That superrich tabloid combo Ron Perelman and Ellen Barkin spent the holidays in that faraway little French island of St. Bart's, with Barkin's children in tow. A hotspot for the famous and bored for years, Perelman and Barkin were far from the island's other celebrity inhabitants: Tori Spelling, of all people, and art gallery maven Mary Boone (who I doubt was actually with Tori, but who knows?).

* Regis Philbin, who's certainly earned a vacation, kicked back with a pina colada and got a tan on a Caribbean cruise. And he went Celebrity Cruises, not Carnival, which should further irk his demonic co-hostess Kathie Lee Gifford. I don't know what Kath did for the holidays, but I'm sure it involved too many decorations, a tantrum or two, and Cody's first glass of champagne!

* Of course we know that Barbra Streisand performed at the Barbra-altered auditorium at the MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas. By the way, if you paid $1,500 for a seat to hear her sing, wouldn't you be perturbed to discover that ABC was televising - for FREE - segments from the event?

* Back in NYC and mirroring the old, last days of disco, Grace Jones rocked the Interscope Party at Studio 54, though she performed so late that many of the celebrity guests, including Madonna's sperm-donor Carlos Leon, Betsey Johnson, Kylie Bax, Harvey Keitel and David Copperfield, had already wandered out into the confetti-strewn streets.

* The rooftop MTV party in Times Square - which, judging from the drunken detritus which floated out of it later that morning, sounds like the last place on the entire earth I would have liked to have been - was the destination of choice for gunslinger Puff Daddy, knife-wielding Jay-Z, and tadpoles Christina Aguilera and Jessica Simpson. Sharpshooter Puff was having a party later that morning at club Chaos - filled, reportedly, with exotic dancers -- but didn't even bother to go! Who knows what mayhem would have ensued if he had! Jenny Lopez was to have co-hosted, but I haven't heard if she appeared or not. (God I hope not! Read below.) Also seen at the MTV shindig were performers Gwen Stefani (with No Doubt), severe boyfriend Gavin Rossdale from Bush, and the Goo Goo Dolls, whose drummer Michael Malinin then dashed after their performance to literally dash in a Central Park Midnight 5K run. Talk about getting to work on those resolutions!

* Chico DeBarge - by the way, he's a REAL DeBarge as in a "Who's Holding Donna Now?" DeBarge - kicked it to the Vibe Magazine party wayyyy downtown at Battery Park, across the waters from the Statue Of Liberty, who prefers El DeBarge.

* Finally, from the who's-zoomin'-who department, Catherine Zeta-Jones returned home to Michael Douglas to celebrate New Year's. This after confirmation - from Cathy's granny, no less! - that the unusual coupling has cooled off. Their "people" were quick to deny any breakup rumors, saying that Cath had every right to take off her ring given to her by Mike, and that he even encouraged her to go the holidays back home in Wales alone. After hearing a new, unconfirmed batch of rumors regarding the "Basic Instinct" star, I'm becoming more and more skeptical that their relationship is anything more than a publicity scam anyway. As a gossip columnist, I have to ask myself, "Do I want to play ball with these two anymore?" I'm *exhausted* by their antics.

Blind Item: Celebrity Three-Ways

Just when I thought I had the straight ones figured out, a star goes and explores his sexuality.

What edgy tough-guy star, who in earlier incarnations was practically homophobic, approached a handsome bartender at a swank L.A. bar and invited him over to his hotel room for a sizzling three-way with he and a sexed-up blonde? When the bartender got to the hotel, he was shocked to discover that another guy had already joined in, and our studly star beckoned the stunned bartender in for a fornicating FOUR-way? The invitee left, seriously freaked out.

Honestly, I would have dived in, but only to get more scoop for you readers, because I'm a truly thorough journalist.

Kooky Celebrity Insight of the Week

Actually, this week there's two, both relating to female waistlines:

Freddie Prinze Jr., on kissing waifs: "Girls in L.A. don't eat anything. You don't have to be thin as a board to be hot. I'll say, `You look hungry. I'm not kissing you 'till you're full because I'm afraid you're going to bite my lip.'"

Liz Hurley (in Allure Magazine), on kissing-off non-waifs: "I've always thought Marilyn Monroe looked fabulous, but I'd kill myself if I was that fat."

So what is it, too skinny or too fat? What look are we supposed to be achieving? Visions of the future: Freddie eaten by a cannibalistic Rachel Leigh Cook; Liz overdosing when middle age enriches her expanding hips.

Sightings

Nicolas Cage dined on a gourmet cheeseburger alone in the East Village at Leshko's, a former bohemian version of my very own HoJo until it was renovated last month and turned into a chi-chi restaurant and star magnet. I used to get a great, greasy egg-and-toast special there for $2, but no more! Now you have to wear Prada for a cup of coffee! (Sorry, am I getting off topic?)

The truly hot (and surprisingly low-key) coupling of Heather Graham and Ed Burns displayed their affections at an Upper West Side restaurant last week, encouraged perhaps by a bottle of wine that another couple (unfamous, I might add; obviously fans of "Austin Powers") bought for them.

Also dining out Japanese-style that night was Dylan McDermott and his lucky wife Shiva Afshar, who warmed a Park Avenue South sushi store with their fabulous banter.

Conan O'Brien was spotted buying a $90 gift certificate at the luxurious Bliss health and beauty spa. Exfoliating again, I see!

G-Mail

Here's a couple interesting responses to my 2000 Dead List:

"Gregoire, Why is Kirk Cameron on your 'dead list'? His career may be dead but am I missing something? Drugs, cancer, flesh eating virus???"

You're not missing a thing, love. Every Dead List should contain at least one random choice, because if you're right, it will freak out your friends. Plus, some people weigh random choices higher than typical old-people choices.
For instance, Ronald Reagan would only garner one point, while someone less likely to die like Kirk Cameron - who is perfectly content out of the public eye, living a wholesome Christian life - would weigh heavily, maybe two, even three points.

One year, I gathered up the traditional year-end Dead List from my scores of friends and noticed that one predicted that Big E. Smalls would die. "Who's Big E. Smalls?" I inquired. In just a few short months, I knew! Smalls, also known as the Notorious B.I.G., was gunned down, and I instantly disowned that particular friend, for fear she harbored an occult-like accuracy for predicting death!

"Gregoire, my love, the light of my Tuesday... Did you do a Dead List for 1999? If so, how accurate were you? I would love to know!"

Sadly, nobody passed away from my 1999 list. I guess one shouldn't take up five of the ten slots with Spice Girls!

"Gregoire, what is up with Jennifer Lopez even being seen with the likes of 'Puffy' Combs? Doesn't the girl know that he is poison to her fledgling career? You know those cosmetics people don't even like the whiff of scandal and here the girl is, all arrested and stuff! Chula, get the heck out of Dodge.

I could not agree with you more. Hasta, basta! And on that note...

Advice Corner with Gregoire:
This Month's Casualty: Jennifer Lopez

Every so often, I like to take time from my busy schedule to help Breakup Girl help a celebrity in need, a superstar wandering aimlessly through the galaxy of fame, drifting from supernova to asteroid belt without an ear to turn to. Well, Jenny, this is your official invitation to come sit with me at the HoJo and discuss this whole Puff Daddy matter in depth. Call my office to make an appointment, dear, but until then, here are a few pointers directed especially to you (though any readers in similar predicaments with big-name rap stars may also glean what they may):

1) Break up with the bastard - Obvious. My readers are screaming it. My boss is screaming it. I'm screaming it. The new millennium harkens to you Jenny, "Snuff the Puff, lady!"

2) Get the heck out of New York - You need a break from the wear-and-tear allure of the New York rap scene, and especially the venomous daily press. Let's get you out of those Post headlines, dear, and into a little R&R on the coast of Cyprus or Tahiti. You're PR people can work the singles off your record, honey, you need a vacation!

3) Forget your "In Living Color" days - You're still being influenced by your old "fly-girl" life, and it's time for a change. You're a rising starlet, a competent if not overly talented singer, and an inspiration for body worshippers everywhere. Why swing with the Colt .45 crowd? You deserve better! Try making friends with the whole Miramax white-bread circle, or have a martini lunch with Halle Berry or Jada Pinkett-Smith.

4) Want new love? Two words: Taye Diggs - He's the hottest man in the universe, and while he's not really available (some gossip reports he may still be with former paramour and "Rent" cohort Edina Menzel), there's no reason you shouldn't at least meet him or star in a movie with him.

5) Or, for that matter, almost anybody without a criminal record would be good for you. Date around. Ben Affleck? Sure, for a date or two. Rob Thomas from Matchbox 20? Adventurous choice. Jude Law? Sure, if he can handle your fierceness. Just stay away from Jack Nicholson and Gary Coleman and you'll be fine.

6) If Puff calls, pick up the phone, but be neutral. The man knows dangerous people, and he's broken people's arms before. He's also very persuasive. (He got Sting to give him permission to sample "Every Breath You Take," didn't he?) But don't lead him on. Talk in calm, unemotional monotones. Always say you're in the middle of a movie shoot, and that you'll call him back, no really you will. Be nice to him in the press, even though he almost ruined your career.

This will get you through the next few weeks, Jenny, but healing takes time. Remember: Meryl Streep isn't the only actress allowed to cry. If you need a cosmopolitan or a slice of frozen chocolate layer cake to cry into, you know where to reach me.

(And, Puff Daddy, if you're reading this, I'm at Leshko's with Nick Cage, so back off!)

Until I do facials with Conan O'Brien,
Gregoire

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