
The recently rehabbed starlet checked in to Paris Hilton’s old haunt, the Century Regional Detention Facility in Lynwood, California, at 10:30 a.m. Thursday.
She was out by 11:54 a.m., says Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department spokesman Steve Whitmore.
“She was cooperative,” Whitmore said. He also denied that Lohan got any favorable treatment, saying it is typical for misdemeanor offenders to serve a fraction of their jail time.
As it was, inmate 1059383 was sentenced to one day in jail after working out a plea deal to drunken-driving and cocaine charges stemming from dual DUI arrests earlier this year.
Aside from her day trip to county, the 21-year-old actress was placed on three years’ probation and ordered to perform 10 days of community service, complete drug treatment and attend an 18-month alcohol-education program. She was also forbidden from associating with drug users.
She was given until Jan. 18 to wrap up the jail term, drug treatment and community service.
Last month, she completed an extended sojourn at the Cirque Lodge in Utah and returned to work, shooting the tango-powered film Dare to Love Me. This week, she has been fulfilling her community service requirement by working at an American Red Cross donor center near Los Angeles.
Lohan’s 84 minutes in lockup falls just short of what is believed to be the celebrity inmate record of 82 minutes logged by Nicole Richie in August. But Lohan’s turnaround time easily trumps ex-Lost player Michelle Rodriguez ’s four hours, 27 minutes last year. Hilton, who faced a stricter initial sentence of 45 days, wound up spending 23 of them at Century Regional.
By comparison, it took moviegoers 105 minutes to suffer through all of Lohan’s last movie, I Know Who Killed Me.


There’s an appropriate bleakness to first album in four years, and her first as a tabloid figure rather than a vibrant teen idol. The hazy-eyed bump-and-grind of her “Gimme More” MTV Video Music Awards performance fits all this material: It’s defiant like a bad drunk, uncomfortably oversexed and more at home in a seedy after-hours club than a celebrity ultra-lounge. The music ranges from shockingly minimal—”Piece of Me” and “Radar” have the synth fugues and smudgy bass of current underground electro and little else—to novelty pop, like the J.J. Fad-styling of “Freakshow” and Gwen Stefani-ripping snare march of “Toy Soldier.” Spears is threatening or seducing, or both, on every track. This is still pop, but the last bits of Spears’ song-and-dance girl veneer are cracking, along with the rest of her public persona. —Kerri Mason