This article is from the archive of our partner .

Today in celebrity news: Bravo's biggest star to date is ignoring her creators, Heidi Montag spent a lot of money, and Daniel Radcliffe is on the market. 

Now that she's going to be a talk show star, Bravolebrity (haha oh god) Bethenny Frankel may have gotten too big for the little people. There's a rumor that Frankel, who rose to fame on Bravo's Real Housewives of New York City and Bethenny Ever After, has hurt Bravo cheerleading mascot Andy Cohen's feelings by refusing to appear on his cable access late-night talk show Gay Uncle Andy's Basement Nighttime Hour and, even more heinously, is refusing to have him on her upcoming talk show. Cohen supposedly feels totally snubbed, as he helped build the brand of Bethenny and assumed she would never forget her roots. Which, ha, when ever in showbiz history has anyone remembered their roots? Come on, no one remembers their roots. Especially in someone like Bethenny Frankel's case. She probably wants to run as far away from and forget Real Housewives as much as she can. And who can blame her! Those are roots worth not remembering. Sure it could all come crashing down and her talk show could be a bust (like Rikki Lake's, like Jeff Probst's, like even Katie Couric's) and she'll be lucky to get a guest spot on Sweet Sassy Andy's Yuk-Yuk Glug-a-Lug, but that's the risk one takes. You start a mission to the moon, it could be a disaster. But it could also be a glorious golden success. And Bethenny is going for it. She's betting she'll soar all the way to a perfect landing, instead of burning up, on her way back down, in Andy Cohen's atmosphere. [Radar]

While on the topic of people breaking up into pieces, and reality stars, former The Hills villain Heidi Montag says that she and her husband Spencer Pratt, whom she exhumed from the cursed earth surrounding the ruins of an old Silly Putty factory, are broke and living with Pratt's parents. Yup, all that Hills money, gone. Montag says "I've never really counted, so I'm not sure [how much we lost]. Over a million or so." Hm. OK. What's weird there is that Us Weekly added the "how much we lost." To which I say, lost? You mean spent? I mean, what, did they leave it at a restaurant and then when they went back the hostess was like "No, sorry, didn't find a million dollars, but you can check the lost and found bin..." so they rummaged through discarded old Nokia cellphones and kids' toys and a retainer case or two, but nope, no million dollars? Did they swear they put the million dollars in this box during the move but now it's not in any of the boxes and, shit, sometimes things just get lost in the shuffle? No, they spent it. They spent over a million dollars on stupid things because, quite frankly, they are stupid people. So, whatever, who really cares, this is the biggest non-story of many a non-story this morning, but I just think that was a strange use of editorial quoting. Choosing that word "lost." Seems so passive. When it wasn't. I really can't imagine it was. [Us Weekly]

Britney Spears has spent $8.5 million to live in a mansion in Thousand Oaks. Yes, Thousand Oaks. Who wants to live all the way out there? Might as well move to Oxnard, for heaven's sake. And for $8.5 million? Crazy. The place is nice, though. It's part of a country club, which is a little lame and grampa-y, but I guess with kids, it makes sense. And the backyard infinity pool has quite a view of the mountains, and the inside is big and open, like a modern lodge, and all that. So whatever. She wants to live all the way the hell out there, she's more than welcome to. Britney Spears has had enough of a bum time over the years that no one's gonna begrudge her the house she wants. I just don't get it, for me. There are much better places to spend $8.5 million in, to my mind. I mean, you could live anywhere for that kinda scratch. You could be in Ontario, or Redondo Beach, or even San Bernadino! The possibilities really are endless. [People]

Yer a wizard, Harry. A single wizard. Yes, Daniel Radcliffe has split up with his girlfriend of three years, Rosie Coker, because of her obvious drug problem. Haha, no, sorry Rosie, sure you've never heard that one before. They just broke up, y'know, probably for whatever reasons 23-year-olds break up. I mean, when you're 23, someone could fart the wrong way and you'd be all "I'm 23! Byee!!!!" There's just not a lot holding you in any one particular place. Point is, Daniel Radcliffe is available, ladies who never want to wear high-heeled shoes again. He is smart and rich and is likely out of town for months out of the year. He's the perfect beau, so someone go snap him up before he has to field one too many creepy calls from Professor Flitwick offering him "private advanced wand tutorials." Poor Flitwick, he's mostly just a lonely, harmless old man, but it can get a bit unseemly after the sixth or seventh call. Yes, go, women of this world. Descend upon Daniel Radcliffe like a horde of Dementors. Suck out his soul with your kisses or whatever it is you ladies do when you date your boyfriends. I don't know. Go have fun. Me, I'm gonna go find Rupert Grint and that ice cream truck of his. I feel like popsicle. [Us Weekly]

Robert Pattinson helped his lady friend Kristen Stewart pick out the house she recently bought in Los Feliz, which is close to where he lives, but is not, y'know, where he lives. Yeah, he wasn't ready to have her move back in, so he found her a place nearby. It'll be plenty easy to see each other but it won't be a requirement every morning. Not that these people are ever home. They are home, what, like two nights out of the year? They are always in hotels and on airplanes and in apartments on location shoots and probably in other mysterious sleeping quarters that only the super fabulous and well-connected know about. (Sleep stasis in space, is my guess.) They have these big ol' mansions and, unless they're on television shows, they are never in them. Hence, the Bling Ring. Think about it. Don't get Bling Ringed, Kiki! You go live in that house and you never leave! You hear me? You never leave. [Radar]

Miley Cyrus can't stop going to that lame-sounding place Beacher's Madhouse in Hollywood. She was there again on Wednesday night with friends, "wearing distressed high-waisted jeans and a crop top" and "hitting the dance floor for songs like 'Don't You (Forget About Me)' and 'Nuthin' but a "G" Thang.'" (Both songs, btw, released before she was born.) I'm sure she had fun, but she's gotta change it up a bit. And also there is nothing more annoying than the idea of Miley Cyrus dancing to "Nuthin' but a 'G' Thang." I mean, can you conceive of something worse? Because I cannot. Anyway, after she was done with her dance of cultural appropriation, Miley watched a performance that included "a mini Nicki Minaj," which I take to mean was a little person dressed as Nicki Minaj. [People]

Two things about this photo: 1) OMG Freddie Prinze Jr.'s hair is graying and we are all old and dying. 2) Can you believe how much that kid looks exactly what you'd think Freddie Prinze Jr. and Sarah Michelle Gellar's kid would look like? Uncanny. [Us Weekly]

This article is from the archive of our partner The Wire.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.