Now that your champagne headache’s worn off and the mystery of your midnight kiss has been seemingly solved, it’s about time the shame sets in. Three un-washable stamps stain your hand, there’s a hundred outgoing calls on your cell, and you’ve got recollections of telling your cousin how hot he is. Never again, you vow. No more weekday happy hours, way more Pilates. Less mistake-making and more mistake-a-learnin’-from. And on that note, 52ish celebrity lessons circa 2008:

Blowing your top is the new keeping it real. A tv-prompter is the machine with the words on it, and no reason to get upset. Likewise, stealing 50 billion dollars is no way to make friends. Watching O.J. cry is just as fun as it sounds. Sharon Osborne can, and will, beat you in a fight. If smirking in your mug shot feels like a good idea, you’re probably too drunk to drive the wrong way on the highway. Mary-Kate Olsen is not licensed to prescribe your meds.

Politics and Celebrity are officially a couple, after Celebrity was dumped by Tom Brady. Cankles can ruin your political career. Anyone’s head photo-shopped on someone else’s body is pure comedy. Don’t stand-up Letterman for Couric; he’s very sensitive. When Oprah tells you who to vote for, you do it. If Oprah’s not talking, vote for whoever Oprah would want you to vote for. Say Yes, we can, No on Prop 8, and whatever, who cares? to Canadian politics. Either way, if you look like Sarah Palin, or Tina Fey, or you wear glasses, you already have a Halloween costume.

Break-ups and make-ups are the only way to define yourself; even Barbara Walters is much sluttier than you’d ever think. You can like kissing girls without being a lesbian (as long as you’re sufficiently attractive). Contrastingly, Clay Aiken is totally and unquestionably gay. Artificial insemination is trumped by labour, Labour is trumped by adoption, which is trumped again by twins. Two kids are better than one, and six kids are better than four.

As long as she offers you a lollipop first, it’s ok to show Annie Leibovitz your privates. Such naked pics have no effect on a persistent girl’s efforts to marry French presidents. Repeatedly posing naked, however, reeks of desperation. Friends don’t let friends date John Mayer. You could do much worse though: Don’t date, play, or be Sean Avery. And if your boyfriend were really the Pope, why wouldn’t God pay his rent?

Celebrities marrying anyone is always a terrible idea, unless it’s Ellen, who is an excellent lesbo investment. Any relationship mistake can be fixed, if you have millions of (reported) dollars to spare. Throwing water on your divorce lawyer doesn’t best demonstrate your rationality. If Madonna, Mariah Carey and Paul McCartney don’t need a pre-nup, neither do you.

But no matter how many times you accidentally slept with Verne Troyer this year, 2009 is a clean slate. Comebacks from your comeback are very possible, and profitable. Rehab makes you awesome, Mulder. So to all my celebs and celebs-hanger-ons, Happy New Year! Maybe this one will be just a little less shameful than the last.