Super-Manly Makeovers, Slackers and Perkbusters

Increasingly, Hollywood has becomeSlacker Town now that industry types sneak off in mid-June for the July Fourth holiday. It's bad enough these assholes cancel meetings at least four times before there's any face-to-face action. Or have their assistant book appointments six months ahead just to seem busier than any mere mortal has a right to be and then rebook anyway just to be obnoxious. Or that this all happens without any pang of guilt. Don't believe me? Just look why Hollywood gets no work done:

June: Spend most of the month coordinating long-weekend travel plans to brownnose Bob Wright on Nantucket, or finagle an invite to the Hamptons with Nick-and-Nora, or hang with Ashton and Demi in Hailey. Leave on June 20 for July Fourth "weekend" vacation to Canyon Ranch, Cal-a-Vie or The Peaks because you think you're too fat to cruise the Mediterranean with Geffen or Diller.

July: Jump for joy that Ron Meyer has permanently canceled his ridiculously overcrowded annual July Fourth party at his Malibu Point Dume manse. Return from July Fourth weekend just in time to depart for Allen & Co.'s Sun Valley investment conference. (Bring lots of DVDs to avoid the embarrassment of dining with anyone mentioned in the Pellicano scandal.) Depart July 25 for "real" August vacation.

August: The first part of the month is the official vacation in East Coast owned or rented property in the Hamptons or Connecticut or Martha's Vineyard. The second part of the month is an unofficial vacation at the Four Seasons on the Big Island to recover from the real and perceived slights suffered the first part of the month.

September: Return to work September 10. Depart for Toronto Film Festival on September 12. Take week off for each High Holy Day, then take more time after you blame imagined food poisoning at the break-the-fast meal at your mother's. Take off for annual Aspen confab by Forstmann Little & Co.

October: Work, unless your studio owns a theme park that gets decorated for Halloween, or your agency is figuring your salary/bonus for next year, or you're Brad Grey, Tom Freston, Les Moonves and Jim Wiatt planning another outing together (previous jaunts took them to Cuba and the Amazon). Overbook your trainer and therapist and golf pro so you have an excuse to leave work early.

November: Departures for Thanksgiving on the East Coast begin November 15. Spend a week supervising just which $10,000 Frank Lloyd Wright tchotchke you'll give to Joel Silver to spend Turkey Day at his South Carolina plantation.

December: Return from NYC power-shopping trip with the family on the first few days of December to keep your third wife from divorcing you. Don't forget to get the Oscar screeners back from the nanny before you head to Hawaii or St. Bart's December 10. Then spend New Year's Eve ice skating with Ah-nold in Sun Valley.

January: Return from Xmas/New Year's vacation January 8. Tell everyone how hard you're working, then leave January 11 for Sundance. Slink away to Aspen for a vacation from Sundance.

February: Schedule new tux fittings, jowl lipo, and Botox injections. Waste even more time partying with people you hate because it's the dreaded awards time.

March: Spend month hiding after the dreaded awards time. That means in your office. Working.

April: Take off Passover Week to recover from imagined food poisoning at Sandy Gallin's seder. Try to recall which kids in the house during their school vacation are yours.

May: Spend 10 days in NYC sweating out the network upfronts. Spend 10 days sweating out the frog critics in Cannes. Spend another 10 days getting "lost" on your way back from NYC or Cannes. And then it's June again in Slacker Town.

Straight Eye for the Queer Guys

I never ever thought the day would come when iconoclastic Johnny Depp would become the biggest box-office star in Hollywood. Yet Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, opening July 7, now has the highest combo of "definite interest" and "first choice" ever tracked by research groups. In real-speak, this means that Depp's fey romp could be as big as any film in history. Either there's a major screwup, or the Magic Kingdom has a near-Titanic on its hands. Naturally, Disney wants to wring every last nickel out of this merchandising bonanza. Absurdly, those workaholic studio lawyers have registered the trademark for Depp's pirate character, Jack Sparrow, for 1,400-some items, including bikinis and bolo ties and badminton sets, licorice and lemonade and leg warmers, bagels and bowling balls and BBQ mitts. (Although Jack Sparrow after-shave sounds sexy.) Just shows what long hair, eye makeup and some nice jewelry can do for a guy.