Oh my goodness. Just when we thought that Robert Pattinson was getting into things with Elvis's granddaughter, we hear that he was seen parking his car, or a car at least, outside of Kristen Stewart's Los Feliz home. Just the other day! He was seen parking a white Dodge Durango with out-of-state plates in front of her house and then, presumably, going into the house. The fact that it's absolute psycho behavior to be reading or writing about where some 27-year-old stranger parked his car aside — there's really nothing to be done at this point about the fact that this is interesting to me — is this oddly encouraging news? Do we like Rob and Kristen together? Or, "Robsten" as they're lamely called by some lame-os? (Kob is better, short for Kobert. Or maybe Stewpatz, or Stewson.) I think we certainly like the story of it, the grand on-set romantic drama of it all. But the truth is, in real life they're just unshowered twentysomethings just like any other pair of unshowered twentysomethings you might know. And is there anything remarkable about that? Oh sure it all feels remarkable and important then, all that gnarly young love, but in truth it's just, what? It's just kids figuring out how their hearts work. And that's exciting in its own small way, but when you take away the klieg lights and the cameras and all that, this is just a dude going to see his ex-girlfriend for some complicated reason. That's all. Nothing really to see. And yet, I'm looking! [Us Weekly]

Charlize Theron will turn a spry 38 years old tomorrow, and to celebrate she's gone to Rome with some friends. Maybe they'll have some drinks at Midnight Mike's or see some music and party on the patio at the Savoy. Maybe they'll get a bite at Coalyard Charlie's or— Hm? What's that? Ohhh Rome, Italy. OK, yeah, that makes a lot more sense now that I think about it. They're in Rome, Italy, like in Europe. Sure, yup, I get that. So, I guess, I don't know, they're having a party in the Coliseum or, um, going swimming in the Trevi Fountain. Y'know, Rome stuff. Actually, they had dinner at Antica Pesa in Trastevere and went shopping near the Piazza di Spagna, but apparently Charlize didn't buy much of anything. Then, I hope, they went clubbing in Testaccio and met some guys and zoomed off into the night on the backs of their scooters and everyone felt young and free and impossibly Italian. That's what I hope. Meanwhile, I'm gonna go get some ice cream at Nicky Doodles. You want? [Page Six]

Miley Cyrus, the ever-evolving pop creature, wants you to know that she's not some phony-baloney jerk posing to look cool. No sir. She says that certain people think she's something she isn't. Specifically, "People have this misconception of me that I'm just one of these kids on TV and that now I go off and party and I'm just this ratchet white girl, and I'm not." Hm? I... Well, Miley, I guess I am not one of those people who thinks you are "just this ratchet white girl" because, well, I don't know what that means! How could I think something if I don't know what it means? So that's at least one person, Miley, who does not think you are just this ratchet white girl. Mostly because I do not know what "just this ratchet white girl" means. I also really don't get where the "white girl" is coming in on this. I mean, I do, she's trying to sound cool and edgy and racially aware, but it also doesn't make sense in the context of what she's talking about. What does her being a white girl have to do with anything? I don't get it. I don't get a lot of this! What I do get is when Miley starts prattling on about how young she is and about how at 20 "you are supposed to be a mess because you haven't figured it out yet, and 10 years from now I am supposed to have it all together." What I get about that is that Miley Cyrus has been reading Thought Catalog and someone should get her to stop. That's what I'm getting from this ratchet white girl. (Did I use that right??) [Us Weekly]

Another royal wedding! It seems that Andrea Casiraghi, son of Princess Caroline and grandson of Princess Grace of Monaco, is set to marry is fiance, Tatiana Santo Domingo, on August 31. They're doing things a little bit backwards, as they already have a kid together, but that's OK. This is Monaco we're talking about, it's the Riviera, who cares. It's unclear where the wedding will take place, but we can probably guess it will be somewhere regal, perhaps even palatial. That's just how these people do, these Monégasques. I'm sure there will be golden champagne and hors d'oeuvres that are just miniature versions of fancy entrees. And a quartet of yellow-haired youths will play crystal flutes while swans bob in pools of sparkling water. Everyone will be so happy, on August 31, surrounded by wealth so extreme that it almost cycles back around to poverty. "We are so rich we are poor!" one of Andrea's relatives will blearily say while standing on a balcony, looking at the grand fireworks display rigged up for the occasion. "To have everything is in some ways to have nothing." And someone will pat the besotted guest on the back and lead him toward one of the gilded guest bedrooms and everyone else will laugh and trill as the fireworks finish their glittery show, there on the water of the Mediterranean, this ancient place, this old family, this bountiful life by the sea. [People]

Hillary Clinton was spotted having a three-hour dinner with some sort of Berkshires fitness guru, presumably as she starts to get in shape for a big 2016 presidential campaign. They met at the West Street Grill in Litchfield, Connecticut, chosen because it was equidistant between Clinton's home in Chappaqua and the fitness guy's in Lenox, MA. Hillary ate salmon and posed for photos with the restaurant owners. Hillary didn't start exercising right there or anything, but presumably this is the beginning of a new regimen. She's gotta get in shape! Big things coming her way! In theory, of course. Nothing's set yet. But, as the old political adage goes, once you start having dinners with health and fitness gurus at fancy restaurants in Connecticut, so goes the nation. Or something. Or something? Or something. [Page Six]