Oh Britney! It’s been far too long since your last public freak-out. With Lindsay in rehab and Paris freshly rehabilitated by our country’s fine penal system, it’s been boring.
But I can see one of your public displays of insanity coming from a mile away. First, there was the bizarro serving of your mother with an alleged poem and letter from your lawyer demanding that granny stay away from your kids. Honey, I don’t think she’s perfect (after all, her parenting resulted in YOU) but I think when you claimed she had a problem with the pills, you were confusing LYNN with BRITNEY.
Now there’s your wackadoo postings on your web site. Letting what’s left of your fan base name your album? Mocking Linsday Lohan as an album title? and the latest… claiming that the infamous umbrella (ella, ella…why can’t I get that song out of my head?) incident was you preparing for a roll [sic]* you didn’t get? Sweetie, I had better explanations for shit back when I was in high school.
Here’s my suggestion: hire whoever Paris has sending “use a designated driver” missives via her MySpace. And then have them take away your web access. Then try some electroshock therapy. I hear it does wonders for the crazy.
* They fixed her spelling in between me writing and grabbing the image. Trust me… it said roll.
Britney Spears and her cousin Ali were out shopping in Beverly Hills, and looking very matchy-matchy while doing it. It looks like we’ve found the only person left who still wants to look like Britney!
People still walk around wearing wet bikinis under their clothes? Yeah, I had this happen to me. . . when I was 8. It looks like. . . wait. Like I need to tell you. (Fine. It looks like piss. There, I said it.) Maybe we should toast Britney for her devil-may-care attitude, because otherwise, I may have a meltdown.
After Britney’s well-reported rant on her blog about how she really didn’t have a problem with alcohol, and once again blames everything involved in her mess of a breakdown on everyone but herself, The Sun claims that she was carried out of Sky Bar at the Mondrian Sunday night after puking all over herself IN THE MEN’S ROOM.
Yep, sounds like she’s just a regular old girl hanging out raising her kids and going to dance classes, doesn’t it?
Britney was found slumped over the toilet bowl with make-up smeared over her face and her wig hanging off.
“She had a room booked at the hotel but was too ill to stay and was begging her bodyguard to take her home.
“She looked a real mess and was sitting on the floor with her head over the bowl throwing up.
“There was vomit down the front of her black dress and around her mouth.
“Britney was on her knees and must have been sick four or five times. She didn’t really seem with it, but I don’t know if she was drunk or not.”
I suppose it could have been something she drank ate.
Britney really must be poorer than we thought after all the shopping and getting divorced, because her extensions look like they were done by someone who is having difficulty passing Intro to Weaves. And as someone who doesn’t love her calves, I have to tell you that these leg warmers were the Wrong Choice. But you probably knew that. Everyone does, except Britney, I guess. Sigh.
I guess Britney should be banned from wearing anything that she chooses herself, but given her rapid improvement, at least she wasn’t wearing these shorts a month ago. Anyway, I’d rather look at a picture of her butt than her trucker cap. I don’t think truckers even like them anymore.
The NY Daily News posted a thinly veiled blind item that can only be referring to Lindsay Lohan:
Which hard-partying starlet, we hear, will soon be seeking a new publicity rep? The drug and alcohol gossip was one thing, but she hates those pesky lesbian rumors that keep turning up in print.
So Britney wants to fire her manager. Paris fires and then rehires her publicist, and now Lindsay is looking for a new lackey?
Girls, let me explain this in terms even you three could understand. Your PUBLICISTS and MANAGERS are responsible for your careers and publicizing said careers. Wait… too complicated. The people that work for you are supposed to get you jobs and talk to the press about your jobs and the cool things you do. The people that work for you can’t do much about the fact that you apparently have fewer brain cells than your average $2.00 whore, flash your anatomy like the same $2.00 whore, and then get caught doing things like driving drunk, snorting coke, or smoking a big fatty at a concert attended by thousands of people with camera phones. Even poor people have camera phones.
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