While us unworthy regular people do such silly things as scrape together cash for our monthly rents (or trick their friends into doing so) and otherwise teeter towards homelessness, even the most unfortunate celebrities don't have to consider such a cruel fate. This isn't to say that when the housing market went tits-up, the sun continued shining over celebrity enclaves. Because, as we learn after the break -- for every posh manse, there's a senseless eviction. And of course, heated floors.

● Usher would like Chris Brown to show a little remorse for what he did to Rihanna. I’m sure Brown, who already has won Rihanna back, will take that into consideration. [Us]
● Lily Allen is a bit upset about her "Shhh" tattoo now that see knows Rihanna had it first. Allen got the tattoo with new bud Lindsay Lohan after a night of partying, thinking the idea was original. Oops. [Entertainment.Stv]
● Despite rumors to the contrary, Slumdog Millionaire director and Oscar winner Danny Boyle will not direct the new James Bond film; he prefers watching one to directing one. [IMDB]

Not unlike a canker sore that flares up annually in a Pavlovian response to seeing Ryan Seacrest at any awards pre-show, generally dour critics have, as is customary and similarly Pavlovian of them this time of year, proceeded to isolate and drag through the mud the single film they think was the most undeserving Oscar contender. Last year it was Juno. "Teenagers don't get pregnant! Teenagers can't crack wise!" cried the esoteric, shapeless horde. And look how wrong they were. This year, their victim is Danny Boyle's Slumdog Millionaire. And what's the shapeless horde crying now, arms folded and brows furrowed? "The poors aren't glamorous! In India, the poors can't speak English! Why, the poors don't ever end up looking so pretty, either!" All true. Why, some are even alleging that Slumdog is nothing more than simple poverty porn. But they're just being foolishly reductive, perhaps willfully naïve.

When Little Miss Sunshine rode festival buzz and strong word-of-mouth all the way to surprising box-office and a Best Picture nomination, it became "The Little Movie That Could," a charming feel-good tale with enough heart and originality enter the national zeitgeist. Last year, that movie was Juno, and this year, the honor undoubtedly goes to Slumdog Millionaire.

Those who've had a chance to see Slumdog Millionaire must have been wtf'ing all over the place after it was just inexplicably slapped with an R rating by the MPAA. The movie, which won the audience award at TIFF, is a whimiscal, if at times disturbing, modern fairy tale set mostly in the tidal wave of humanity that is the slums of Mumbai, India. To be sure, there's some disturbing imagery spattered throughout the movie, but at heart it's a fairly innocent fable of love and destiny, propelled forward by it's protagonist appearing on the Indian version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? And yet, the Joker slamming someone's neck into a pencil warrants a PG-13. I spoke to the director Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, 28 days Later), and he's more disappointed I am.