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Because all of us want to look as sexy and svelte as possible even as we piss ourselves, Depend has come out with a line of ultra slim piss pads that won't give you diaper lines, and they've hired 48-year-old Lisa Rinna of all hos to push that shit in a new commercial. I know Lisa's career is in the shit can and her lips could win first place in a throbbing hemorrhoid look-alike contest, but besides that what does she have to do with bowel movements? I guess Depend is saving Fergie for their new collection of diaper g-strings, Hugh Jackman for their line of diaper speedos and Gérard Depardieu for their line of control-top french cut piss catchers. Whatever. Lisa's collagen worm lips aren't going to plump themselves, so I say, piss yourself to a check, Lisa Renal!

via HuffPo

Daddy Spears has long been the one who's in charge of stirring the pot of Velveeta grits that Brit Brit calls life, and soon her fiancé Jason Trawick will also get his own plastic ladle. Daddy Spears filed papers yesterday asking the court to add Sam Mer-LESS as one of Brit Brit's conservators. Jason will get legal control of his soon-to-be wife and Daddy Spears will remain the head bitch in charge of her money. Yeah, this doesn't sound creepy at all.

People says that it was Daddy Spears' idea to add Jason since he's going to marry the Louisiana trailer park blossom sometime soon. A source says that Jason won't get a map to the Fayva shoe box where Brit Bit keeps her fortune, but he will have control of her "well-being." A legal source type gave his professional opinion about this mess to People:

"This is a very unusual situation, because generally you don't see conservatees get married. This could be a sign that the couple's wedding is around the corner.

This is probably a compromise between Britney, her father and Trawick to get the marriage off on the right foot. Obviously, her future husband needs to have a say in her well being."

There's something Boxing Helena-ish about this shit. Marriage is already a prison sentence for your genitals (unless you're marrying Anderson Cooper and then it's a never-ending real-life dream sequence for your genitals) and now Jason Trainwreck will get to legally pull on Brit's puppet strings? There's always been something shady about that Jason trick. Jason reminds me of that sleazy husband in an episode of 48 Hours Mystery whose neighbors say that he's such a friendly man and there's no way he had anything to do with his wife's death. That bitch. I mean, you can never trust a man who would be played by Robert Patrick (aka the go-to-actor to play a creeper) in the Lifetime movie of his life.

But then again, it could be worse. If it wasn't for Daddy Spears and Jason controlling Brit, she'd probably be lip-synching out her greatest hits in the middle of an am/pm to pay for her Frapps and Adderall addiction.

Thomas Kinkade, the most prolific artist of this generation whose work was so coveted that most roadside motels had to nail it to the wall to keep people from stealing it, has walked toward the light he painted. Thomas Kinkade is now teaching a master class in art next to Bob Ross at the great big Learning Annex in heaven after he died of natural causes at the young age of 54 yesterday. A spokesperson for the Kinkade family tells the Associated Press that Thomas passed away at his home in Los Gatos, CA.

The self-described "warrior of light" is the most collected artist in the US and it's been reported that 1 in 20 American homes has one of his cottage paintings hanging on its walls. It's true. If you walked into any memaw's home right now you'd find her crying pastel oil tears into a Kinkade handkerchief in between taking sips of orange tea from a Kinkade mug sitting on a Kinkade placemat. I mean, you really haven't seen art world drama until you've seen two 75-year-olds fight over a Kinkade painting at the swap meet.

Thomas Kinkade was in the news two Decembers ago after he was busted for DUI. The Los Angeles Times also reported a while ago that Thomas Kinkade once drunkenly pissed on a Winnie the Pooh statue at the Disneyland Hotel in Anaheim. Dude was the painter of light AND the bad boy of the art world.

Rest in peace, Thomas. Your legacy will forever live on in this masterpiece Christmas movie starring Jensen Ackles the ho from Supernatural:

Fefita la Grande, legendary merengue accordionist and the treasured metallic pearl of the Caribbean that pirates have been trying for centuries to capture.

If you asked me a few days ago who Fefita la Grande was, I'd tell you that's the name my fat uncle would use if he was a competing queen on La Tigresa del Oriente's Drag Race, but thanks to Dlisted reader Wendy I now know who the one and only Fefita la Grande is. Fefita is considered one of the most prolific female accordionists of all time and she is single-handedly keeping the stripper stores on Hollywood Blvd. in business. I'll let Wendy explain the magic of Fefita la Grande to you:

Fefita la Grande is one of the most famous performers in the Dominican Republic. She's 86 years old but always dresses like a hoodrat stripper from the 90's. She's an ass shaking, accordion playing, tattooed, midriff-showing Nana who claims she was asked to pose for Playboy. No young female entertainers attract more fans or sell more tickets than Fefita la Grande. Fefita has the charm, sex appeal, grace, dance moves and talent that hoes a quarter of her age wish they could have.

When I was a kid, I started playing the accordion (my childhood was obviously directed by Todd Solondz) after my mom bought lessons from an accordion teacher selling bellowy musical dreams door to door. I know, why couldn't my mom have whored me out in child beauty pageants like a normal parent does.

I quickly became a child star in the accordion world and by that I mean I placed second (out of three) in my age division at the San Gabriel Valley Regionals. I only took second, because the girl who placed third stopped playing halfway through to take a piss. I retired from my non-career as the shittiest accordion player in the game a year or two later, because I realized that my commitment to being lazy was more important to me and my accordion weighed about as much as an average Jessica Simpson fetus. But I would've never let go of my accordion (the fart bag of musical instruments) if I knew then that the reigning queen of the accordion kingdom looked and moved like this:

Exquisite. Every time she hits that air release button, a unicorn queefs. You know you're looking at a true entertainer when you're not quite sure if she's a Maya Rudolph character or not.

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