In a positive twist to the bizarre story of Nick Stahl's disappearance, it seems the "Terminator 3" actor has reached out to friends, according to TMZ.

Sources tell the website the 32-year-old actor -- who was reported missing by his wife, Rose Murphy, earlier this week -- sent an email Friday apologizing to friends for worrying them, letting them know that he is currently receiving treatment and will be out of contact for the next 30 days.

Murphy filed a missing persons report on May 14, fearing the worst for her husband who, at the time, was last seen in the Skid Row district of Los Angeles, California. Earlier today it was reported police were investigating leads in the case after receiving multiples tips saying Stahl had been spotted.

LOUISVILLE, Ky. — Country music legend Loretta Lynn is three years older than she has led people to believe, an age change that undermines the story she told of being married at 13 in "Coal Miner's Daughter," documents obtained by The Associated Press show.

Lynn's birth certificate on file at the state Office of Vital Statistics in Frankfort, Ky., shows that Loretta Webb was born on April 14, 1932, in Johnson County, Kentucky. That makes her 80 years old, not 77. Also on file is her marriage license and two affidavits from her mother, Clara Marie Ramey, and S.W. Ward Jr., who was not related to the family, listing the same birthdate.

The records weren't filed until 1965, which meant that Lynn needed multiple documents to prove her age at that time. Lynn's signature appears on the document as Loretta Webb Lynn.

Melvin Webb lists his daughter "Loretta" as 7 years old for the 1940 Census, according to a digital copy on file at the Kentucky Historical Society. Lynn's marriage license, obtained by the AP from the Johnson County clerk's office lists her as 15 on Jan. 10, 1948.

In "Coal Miner's Daughter," the autobiography that became an Academy Award-winning film, Lynn told a different story – that she was married at 13 and was a mother of four by 18. Most books and public references to Lynn list her current age as 77.

When contacted by the AP, Lynn's spokeswoman, Nancy Russell of Nashville, Tenn., declined comment. She said that Lynn has told her before in no uncertain terms, "If anyone asks how old I am, tell them it's none of their business!"

Lynn's younger brother, Herman Webb, declined to disclose Lynn's age, although he said there might have been a "mix-up" with Lynn's paperwork after she moved to Nashville to launch her country career. Her parents and many other relatives are dead, including her husband, O.V. "Mooney" Lynn.

Certainly Lynn isn't the first celebrity of a certain age to be less than forthcoming about a birthday, but the discrepancy is significant because age isn't just a number for the Country Music Hall of Fame member. It is woven into her compelling life story, made famous in her 1976 bestselling autobiography, "Coal Miner's Daughter," and the subsequent film starring Sissy Spacek. The movie made $67 million nationwide and was nominated for seven Oscars; Spacek won for her portrayal of Lynn.

The Grammy-winning singer recently announced that it will become a Broadway musical, starring actress and singer Zooey Deschanel.

The way Lynn chose to tell it in the book, she was married at 13, moved with her husband to Washington State at 16 and was a mother of four by 18. Lynn has six kids in all. The marriage certificate shows that Lynn instead married just shy of her 16th birthday, which was not unusual in Kentucky at that time. Her husband was 21.

It would have been illegal for a girl under the age of 14 to marry in Kentucky in 1948, said R. Eric Henninger of the Kentucky State Law Library. At that time, he said, "lots of folks didn't have any sort of official proof of age."

An AP reporter recently found Lynn's birth certificate online that listed a different birthdate from the one listed in the news agency's database of celebrity birthdays. The reporter changed the date in the database; when the new birthday was used in a recent story, the Country Music Hall of Fame contacted the AP about the discrepancy.

Lynn addresses the perils of disclosing her age in her autobiography.

"When I was born, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was the president for several years. That's the closest I'm gonna come to telling my age in this book, so don't go looking for it," she writes. "I'm trying to make a living singing songs. I don't need nobody out there saying, `She don't look bad considering she's such-and-such years old.'"

Lynn's co-author on "Coal Miner's Daughter," New York Times sports columnist George Vecsey, said in a phone interview that he did not verify the age claims in the book with official documentation.

"It's her book, and I never saw a birth certificate, marriage license. It's what they told me," he said. "I couldn't say that she was the one who told me first. Between her manager (David Skepner) who has passed and her husband who has now passed, it was at least three different people telling me that."

Vecsey said he did not want to speculate on what the age difference means to Lynn's narrative.

Lynn's daughter, Patsy Lynn Russell, did not respond to emailed requests for comment.

Webb, her brother who lives in their hometown of Van Lear, Ky., believes "there might have been a mix--up somewhere along the line" when Lynn first arrived in Nashville and signed with the Wilburn Brothers.

"When she was with Teddy and Doyle (Wilburn), she just don't tell her age after that," he said. "I think they got some of her paperwork messed up."

Webb declined to comment on Lynn's age. When asked his own birthday, like a good brother, he replied: "I was born a year and a half after she was."

Research supervisor Walter Bowman at the Kentucky Department for Libraries and Archives said in the early `30s it was more common for people to register their prized horses or livestock than the births of their children.

Not until the Social Security system was founded in the mid-1930s did parents have a monetary reason to put their kids on record.

Social Security Administration officials said privacy laws prevent them from releasing information about any living person, including a birth date.

Music journalist and author Robert K. Oermann, who wrote "Finding Her Voice" about women in country music, said nothing can overshadow Lynn's accomplishments.

"In the 1960s, you didn't have the 24-hour news cycle, saturation of personality journalism that you have today. So what appealed to people was the fact that the songs were so extraordinary. Her singing was so great. Everything about her was so refreshing and country," he said.

"It wasn't until much later that people became aware of her backstory, but the music itself is what made her a star. The biography, the life story was just the icing on the cake."

In 1972, Lynn became the first woman to be named entertainer of the year by the Country Music Association. She is known for hits, including "Coal Miner's Daughter," `'You Ain't Woman Enough," `'The Pill," `'Rated X," and "Don't Come Home A' Drinkin' (With Lovin' on Your Mind)." Her last top 10 record as a soloist was "I Lie" in 1982.

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Online: http://www.lorettalynn.com

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King reported from Washington. Contributing to this report were Associated Press reporter Joni Beall in Washington_ who discovered the age discrepancy – Roger Alford in Frankfort, Ky., and Stephen Ohlemacher in Washington.

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For the latest country music news from The Associated Press, follow: http://www.twitter.com/AP_Country

On March 10, Will Ferrell told me that the chances of seeing "Step Brothers 2" was a very strong possibility. Without prompting, he added an almost dejected aside: "We tried," Ferrell said, with regards to an "Anchorman" sequel.

Then, on March 28, Ferrell appeared on "Conan" to announce "Anchorman 2."

So, what happened in those 18 days?

On Thursday, David Koechner filled in some of those gaps for me, and also explained how the teaser trailer for "Anchorman 2" came together so quickly -- this despite the fact that the sequel won't even begin filming until February.

I spoke to Will Ferrell and asked him about doing sequels in general and, as an aside, he said, "I mean, 'Anchorman,' we tried," before stating that they wanted to do "Step Brothers 2." Then, a little over two weeks later, "Anchorman 2" is announced. Did that really come together that quickly?
Yes, it did. It really did.

What changed in those two weeks?
I knew that they were talking about it. I ran into my agent on a Friday and he said they were going to be talking about it that next Monday. So, it wasn't a done deal. They were getting ready to go into "Step Brothers 2." And then Adam McKay said, "You know what? Before we do that, let's just take one more run at Paramount for doing 'Anchorman 2.'" And they did -- and it came together in a week.

You've been hearing about this for a long time. When you got that call this time, were you still wary that it might not happen?
Oh, no. I knew it was serious. Because it was whispered. It was whispered to me that they were having talks "next Monday." So, yeah, I knew it was serious. Because they said, "It looks good." There was a time when it was definitely going, two years before that -- and then it was off. So, you hope, but you didn't want to hope too much. And, even now, it doesn't start shooting until February. You know, it seems a little unreal. Almost like when we were shooting it, it didn't seem real.

Is that a reason for getting that teaser out so quickly? "If we put a teaser out, there's no way this can fall apart again"?
Well, no. I'd say that once they agreed to it, that was it. That was going to happen.

When did you guys shoot that? It seemed to happen quite quickly.
Oh, we shot that in April. We shot that about a week after they announced it.

It is fun seeing Champ again.
Yeah! Haven't seen it yet. I can't wait.

Do you put that hat on and think, Man, I'm back?
[Laughs] Oh ... yes.

Mike Ryan is senior entertainment writer for The Huffington Post. He likes Star Wars a lot. You can contact Mike Ryan directly on Twitter.

VIDEOS: Great Moments In "Afternoon Delight"

LOS ANGELES -- Prosecutors have charged a man with stalking Mila Kunis and violating a restraining order that was issued after he broke into a vacant condo owned by the actress.

Stuart Lynn Dunn is scheduled to be arraigned Friday in Los Angeles on two stalking-related felony charges. He is being held on $190,000 bail.

The 27-year-old has been arrested twice this year for trying to contact and meet the "That `70s Show" and "Black Swan" star.

In February, a judge ordered Dunn to stay away from Kunis after he was found living in a vacant condo unit owned by the star. He had repeatedly tried to contact her before that arrest, and he was arrested earlier this month outside her gym.

Attempts to find a current attorney for Dunn were not successful.

Suddenly he lowers his voice and slows his speech, assuming stern ownership of our telephone conversation, like a grown up instructing a child. I've been frank with him, indicating that my delight at his recent casting as Cassius in Julius Caesar has been tempered by the fact that it is an 'all black' production.

My comment ruffles him; his reply surprises me. He asks how I respond when I hear that Colin Firth has been cast in something. I explain that I never respond in anyway because Colin Firth is always cast in something. He contends that the production we're discussing will occur on one of the finest stages in the land (The RSC) with some of the finest actors in the land, arguing it is not an 'all black' production but one set in Nigeria decades ago.

I stand corrected: my attitude indeed denigrates the calibre of his fellow players, but otherwise we have to agree to differ because - in my experience - productions like this never have white cast members. Why, when Europeans have been in Africa for hundreds of years? I insist that it's tantamount to positive discrimination in the theatre - how about an all black Othello with a white moor for a change? He counters that it's not positive discrimination, just positive.

Award winning actor and writer Cyril Nri and I are cogitating thus because an actor we know, one decorated by Her Majesty for services to British acting and star of a hit US series, has had his remarks, regarding slim-pickings for black actors, turned into this broadsheet headline, "David Harewood: as a black actor there are very few roles for me in Britain". Surely it wasn't the main thrust of his conversation, but it has suited the Telegraph to stir a hackneyed narrative, one that Cyril thinks erroneous, "A myth" to be transcended. If papers like the Telegraph wish to peddle that narrative let them, but unsuspecting actors should be circumspect of being lured into the 'colour parlour' because it's not the full story.

We agree that it's easily construed by the successful because they are given opportunities to promote their work, whereas those who don't succeed can't air grievances. Cyril even quips that it's good PR to aggrandise the lucrative market you hope to continue exploiting. Yet, he knows a few frustrated talents - not necessarily black- who can't get arrested (so to speak) over here or over there, just as he knows a handful who have been unspeakably fortunate. He then propounds an apercu, that securing good roles has more to do with class than colour. Because he is perceived as well-to-do/upper-middle, he has scored judge and police superintendent on television, where other actors can only expect gang member or token mate. He might be right: the most successful black actor from the UK in recent years is a Dulwich College alumnus.

And isn't it all a bit backward bandying words like black and white around? I contact another friend, actor and filmmaker Giles Terera, to see what he thinks. I ask if these notions are anything more than a frustrating bore to him. He confirms "I don't want to be considered a black actor- I get very bored with it!" Giles has been directed by Peter Brook, played Caliban to Ralph Fiennes' Prospero and is currently preparing his feature documentary, a Shakespeare road movie, Muse of Fire for the film festival circuit.

He has some fascinating insights and is spirited on the subject. Once, an investor who congratulated him on his performance as Horatio, immediately tainted the compliment with "Of course, Horatio wasn't black." Cheers. Giles cared about his The Tempest character Caliban enough to want to transcend colour with his performance until- as scripted- the esteemed lead called him "Slave!" in front of a majority white audience. "It made me want to go more towards that, to say actually I am black and there's no point ignoring it."

Recently, to some drama students, he pointed out that because the majority of producers, programmers and audiences were white that the intended thespians would be frequently challenged by a system of subtle colour narratives. However, he thinks David Harewood has a point, "The American industry is different to ours. Their society is different to ours. I would like to see here be as good as it there." He proffers that theatre, his preferred arena, is making exemplary achievements that television and cinema are starting to follow. His account of performing Wole Soyinka's Death and the King's Horseman at the National Theatre, where some of the cast infamously 'whited up' is both astonishing and uproarious. "I want to go to the theatre and see myself reflected as much as I want to turn on the television and see myself reflected. That's all."

What I gather and believe more and more is that a certain level of success is selective. The misleading tease that anybody can succeed to that extent never goes out of fashion. Acting has its own '1%.' They are so overwhelmingly promoted that their success gets mistaken for something normal, an entitlement even. Cyril and Giles are agreed that valuing the work is paramount, and that the cultivation of ownership, writing and production is vital. The exclusion felt by actors of any ethnic group could be that there is not enough material being created for them by them. Britain yet lacks its Spike Lee, John Singleton, Tyler Perry equivalents. Steve McQueen has attained something remarkable by creating films that pay the colour conversation no mind. Without question there will be those who applaud his bold pictures for their excellence and those who level accusations of exclusion at his projects, questioning why he does things the way he does. Interestingly, for his third feature he has secured the services of one of the actors mentioned above.

Guess which one.

The New York Observer -- a newspaper owned by Donald Trump's son-in-law that is perhaps best known for publishing a sex column in the mid-1990s -- took issue with a piece I wrote in The Huffington Post about ghost tours in New Orleans.

This was the writer's opening sally:

James Franco, the real voice of our generation, has taken time out from his busy schedule of Art and Teaching and also Learning to begin a Huffington Post diary. It's about time!

So what important issue of our times is Mr. Franco tackling? President Obama's stance on gay rights? The construction of Marina Abramovic's performance space over on the Hudson? His new album, perhaps?

Those are all great guesses, but James Franco is actually here to talk to us today about a matter close to his heart: Haunted tours in New Orleans that he took with his Nana. (Which is the name of his Japanese hairdresser, not his grandmother.)

Yes, this is all true. I didn't write about the president's stance on gay rights -- I figured there was enough talk about that already. (Plus, who wants to hear an actor's take on it anyway?) I didn't write about Marina, but only because we are doing an episode of Iconoclasts for the Sundance Channel together and I figured everything one would want to know about her would come out then. And yes, I am working on an album with my art school band, but I wouldn't want to write an article for HuffPost that promotes my own work. Instead, I wrote about New Orleans and ghost tours because I think there is something interesting about the way we are repelled by violence, on one hand, and attracted to it for its entertainment value, on the other. Maybe the great journalists at the New York Observer should stop wondering why I am not covering Obama or Abramovic -- and start asking themselves why, instead of covering pressing world issues, they are covering my writing, which they claim to consider petty.

Which leads me to my next topic: commencement speeches. I figure people don't really want to hear what I have to say about politics, or sports, or geography. But I do feel entitled to write about film and performance, the way that our lives are shaped by these things, and how I personally am engaged with them. Most people have never given a commencement speech -- there just aren't a ton of those offers going around. So because I just gave a commencement speech at UT Arlington -- which is in Texas, if you didn't know -- I want to write about it to shine a little light on what the experience was like.

Commencement speeches suck. To set the scene: About four years ago, I was asked to give the commencement speech at U.C.L.A. in front of all the members of the graduating class and their families. In all, it's more than 10,000 people, enough to fill the stands and the floor of Pauley Pavilion. Because I had only just earned my B.A. from U.C.L.A. -- I had returned when I was in my late 20s to finish my English degree -- some of the students felt that I hadn't accomplished enough to inspire them. They created a Facebook group, which attracted about 220 members from a class of 6,000 -- enough to earn them some local news coverage and an invitation for the creator of the page to speak on NPR. I'm sure it must have seemed odd that someone who had been in their classes the previous year was asked to give the speech, but I couldn't help noticing that not one of the protesters had bothered to sign up for the selection committee that actually chooses the commencement speaker each year. My guess is that they didn't really care who gave their commencement speech; they were just taking advantage of the opportunity to blow off some steam. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that no one remembers their commencement speaker's speech.

Around the time of the Internet protests, I happened to meet President Obama at the White House Correspondents' Dinner. Because his choice as a commencement speaker was being protested at Notre Dame, and since he wasn't given an honorary degree after speaking at Arizona State because the officials felt like he hadn't accomplished enough, I asked him how he dealt with such detractors. He said, "humor." I tried to take his advice. I wrote a speech for UCLA where I planned to flip off the protestors as a model for how to deal with empty negativity, but it seemed ill-conceived. Obama had something I didn't: the snub from the Arizona State officials was laughable because he had obviously accomplished so much. I was an actor who had been in some big movies, but I guessed that most people chalked that up to good looks or blowing some casting directors. Since I was speaking only because it was an honor to have been asked, I decided not to object when the film I was contracted to work on demanded that I fly to Ireland early for rehearsals. I bowed out of the speech, and the school got a member from the band Linkin Park to speak in my stead.

I once asked Tina Fey if she ever gave commencement speeches, and she said she only speaks at high schools -- there's too much pressure at the college level. And when UT Arlington invited me to speak, I had a ton of reservations. Mainly, I didn't want to give a thankless speech to a bunch of ungrateful people who would criticize me and then forget the speech anyway. Commencement speeches are the worst kind of speech, because you need to be enthusiastic and inspiring in your own voice. There is nothing cheesier than that. No wonder Will Ferrell and Sacha Baron Cohen gave their Harvard speeches in character. Liberated from the burden of being Tony Robbins, they were free to simply entertain. If I thought about the famous commencement speeches I knew -- Ralph Waldo Emerson's, David Foster Wallace's, Steve Jobs' -- I realized they either contained excellent advice or told a good story. But I wouldn't dare to give any concrete advice about how to live, and the only story I had to tell was that I had been a commercially successful actor who wasn't happy with the work I was doing, so I went back to school to focus on my other interests. Then again, I suppose that's not the worst message -- the message being, you can change your life.

I have no shame about getting help with anything I do, especially something as quickly forgotten as a commencement speech, so I had my friend Deenah Vollmer work on a draft and then I passed it on to Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg, who passed it on to their writer friends Kyle and Ariel, who punched up some of the jokes. Here's the best part:

I hope you all realize how lucky you are to be in this position right now. Looking up on stage, at a man with deep brown eyes, a flawless head of hair, chiseled good looks, staring right back at you. And I'm just talking about Arlington U president James D. Spaniolo!!! (Note: point to Spaniolo) You're leading the charge, Spaniolo. Great stuff.

(OPTIONAL: When I say James, y'all say Spaniolo! James! Spaniolo! James! Spaniolo!)

In all seriousness, you guys are incredibly lucky. There's no better feeling than the sense of accomplishment that comes with graduating. It's such a good feeling that I've been chasing it for the last 6 years. I have a BA, a few Masters, and I'm currently pursuing a PhD. Seriously. I think I'm developing a bit of a problem. It's gotten to the point where if I don't graduate something within a 6-month period, I start getting the shakes, I break out with hives. I wake up with cold sweats. Cotton mouth is becoming a pesky little issue. So I feel very privileged to be here today just to get a taste of that sweet graduation feeling. If I'm being completely honest, I'm already starting to get a contact high off it. So thank you for that.

I know a lot of you are probably looking at me on stage and thinking, "Why should we listen to you? You've never enrolled in our school, you're not from Texas, you have no connection to us whatsoever. You're just a spoiled actor, celebrated the world over." But the truth is, I'm not just a spoiled actor. I'm also a filmmaker, an author, a teacher, a lover of pets, and an organ donor. The point is, I try to be a lot of things. I've been fortunate enough to explore various areas of interest in my life, and I hope the same for all of you.

The crowd was so into it, they cheered when I said, "Good evening." I guess all the worry was for nothing.

On a June evening in 2010, a social worker arrived at the door of an orphanage in southern Ethiopia, carrying two frail infants. Hours before, the man had made his way to a rural village, summoned by the children's grandmother. The boys, Abenet and Afework, had been born several weeks premature. Their mother had died in childbirth. Their father, a poor farmer already struggling to keep two older children alive, lacked the resources to care for them.

The boys' health had worsened drastically since their birth. They were malnourished and barely responsive to stimulation. After many tears, the boys' grandmother convinced her son to give them up to an orphanage. "They will die here," she told him, "It is what God would have you do." Agonizing over the decision, their father realized that his mother was right and relinquished custody. "Take them to someone who will care well for them," he told her.

"Do not worry," she responded. "I know someone."

When the social worker arrived at the orphanage, he was met by the institution's director and women who would serve as the boys' caregivers. They were shocked to see that the boys were small enough to fit in the palm of their hand and that their umbilical cords were still attached. Racing against time, they rushed the boys to the nearest hospital. All the way they blew on the babies' faces to keep them alert for fear that if they fell asleep they would never awake.

Weeks later and thousands of miles away, my wife, Meredith, and I waited with our three children to hear news from our adoption agency. In February, we had completed paperwork intending to adopt a little girl from Ethiopia. Then, in September, our plans changed. We received word of four-month-old twin baby boys who desperately needed a family. One of the boys had recently survived a bout with meningitis. The other was severely malnourished and had contracted sepsis.

Drawn to the children, my wife and I contacted the adoption agency for more information. We learned that two families had already declined their referral and that no other couples had inquired about the boys. "I feel like these are our sons," Meredith told me.

We had the boys' medical files forwarded to Dr. Aronson, one of the world's foremost pediatricians specializing in international adoptions. She confirmed that the boys could definitely have special needs, possibly even need life-long care, but that there was no way to know for sure. After counting all the costs, and acquiring a generous grant from Gift of Adoption, we told our agency that we wanted to become the twins' parents. Within a month we were on a plane to Ethiopia.

In November, we visited the orphanage and met the twins. Although tiny, they were alert, responsive, and their health had improved. In December, I stayed home with our two older sons while Meredith returned with our daughter and my father to bring Afework and Abenet (whom we named Samuel and Asher) home. By January 1, 2011, we were all together as a family.

Over the next several months, Samuel and Asher saw numerous doctors and began physical therapy. To our delight and the expert's surprise, they thrived beyond everyone's expectations. By the summer they had made their way onto US growth charts and showed no signs of any serious health issues.

Then, in July, we received word that a movie was being filmed in Atlanta and that the casting department was looking for Ethiopian babies as extras. On a whim, Meredith sent in the twins' picture. To our surprise, the casting director called us personally and asked to meet. After seeing the twins, he said, "I think I've found my hero babies (main babies) for this storyline."

The next day, we met the director, Kirk Jones, who was enthralled by the twins' story. A few hours later, we received a call telling us that Samuel and Asher had been chosen for the movie, and could we meet the next day with Jennifer Lopez?"

When we entered the room, Kirk called Ms. Lopez and the actor who would portray the boys' father, Rodrigo Santoro, over to meet us. "This is Kindred and Meredith Howard," he said. "These guys are Alex and Holly (their characters in the movie). They've done what you are going to do in the film."

Kirk's tone and demeanor suggested that he was trying to honor us for having adopted Samuel and Asher. In truth, we felt that we were the ones blessed to have Samuel and Asher as sons. All we did was give two incredible little boys a home. The ones who truly deserved honor were the mother who had given her own life for them and the father who, out of love, made the difficult decision to give them up for adoption.

We spent eight of the next fourteen days on the set of What to Expect When You're Expecting, a movie based on Heidi Murkoff's best-selling book. Watching Sammy and Asher take turns cuddling with Jennifer Lopez on camera and playing peek-a-boo with her in between takes, all Meredith and I could do was marvel. Fourteen months earlier, our sons had lain dying in a rural Ethiopian village. Now they were playing pat-a-cake with J-Lo and winning the hearts of the cast and crew of a major motion picture.

This week, Samuel and Asher will make their movie debut as Lopez's adopted son, Kaleb. But Samuel and Asher are much more than little movie stars. They are truly "hero babies," not because of a movie role, but because of their journey. They are living testimonies to the heroism of their Ethiopian parents and caregivers. They are real examples of the amazing and unforeseen blessings that await those who choose to adopt. Samuel and Asher are inspirational because of what their survival and journey has, and will, teach others as they continue to grow, thrive, and impact lives.

Follow along with Samuel & Asher's amazing journey at www.oursammyandasher.com