Brit Brit rear-ended ANOTHER car today. TMZ reports that Brit Brit was stopped at a red light on Sunset Blvd. in Beverly Hills. For some reason, Brit hit the gas even though the light was still red, hitting a Ford Explorer in front of her.

Brit stayed in the car while her bodyguard got out to talk to the lady in the Explorer. Apparently, nobody was visibly hurt. The lady is currently following Brit back to her house.

She probably dropped a Cheeto, bent down to get it and hit the gas with her wedge flip-flop. Brit needs to leave the driving to the professionals. She should just take her place in the passenger seat where she can play with her gum all she wants and make frapp bubbles with her mouth.

Oh and these pictures are from yesterday, not today. There’s totally frapp dust in that water. She has to get her fix somehow.

Dreamboat Doherty said he realized he had to give up drugs after he tried kill one of his cats with a shovel. Dreamboat’s pussies deserve the purple heart. They’ve been forced to smoke crack and they’ve escaped death by shovel beating.

Dreamboat told The Mirror, “I got a shovel and was going to kill one of the cats. That was when I was, like, you know, ‘I’m a bit of a mess’. It was a bit of a crazy time.”

Maybe, we should send over Animal Police: London (I don’t think that show exists over there) to pay a little unannounced visit to Dreamboat. By “unannounced visit,” I mean save those fucking pussies before it’s too late.

Gay Al has taken to his MySpace to blog about his divorce to Star Jones. Gay Al has asked all of us to walk in his shoes “for a few hours.” I would, but stilettos aren’t my flavor. Gay Al has the calves for those things. I don’t.

The post is long, so fly on over to Gay Al’s fairy kingdom if you want to read the whole thing. Here’s parts of it:

Dear Friends: If you think you are having a tough day, may I propose you walk in my shoes for a few hours. In my mind, it feels like “Dump on Al Month.” And I’m not having fun yet. I have been called a gigolo, a freeloader, unemployed, a sham and many other things that don’t bear repeating. People on television, radio and the internet have spoken disparagingly of my life, my sexuality, my career and my integrity. The media has barraged me (at my home), my friends, my family(including my 79 year old mother), my college classmates, my students and my professional colleagues. Yet, despite this intense level of provocation, I have said nothing. My Publicist has put out a one sentence statement: “We’re taking the high road.” And we have and will continue on that path. As much as I want to defend myself, it seems like a silly and futile exercise. It’s clear that the media doesn’t want to let the truth get in the way of a good story. I hate to ruin their fun. I take great comfort in the fact that my loved ones and those people who really know me continue to love and respect me. Thank you “all” for the endless emails, phone calls and words of encouragement. I know in my heart that I entered my marriage with love and the best of intentions and leave it with great sadness that it didn’t work.

What I want people to know is that I am not the caricature portrayed by the media. I am complex, contradictory and capable of great intelligence but also remarkable stupidity. In other words, I am a human being. To me, labels are for clothes, not people. So…..Please don’t try to define me; don’t try to categorize me; and most of all, don’t label me. Instead, JUST GET TO KNOW ME. And if you see me, just call me Al.

I’m pretty sure it’s “Dump on Al Day” once a month at The Loading Zone in Miami.

Aww…poor Gay Al! He has a friend in me. If homegirl ever called me crying, because his 12-man tag team party ran out of lube, I’d immediately drop my pancake sandwich and head on over with a fresh cup of WET for him to borrow. That’s what friends are for.

VIA People

Don’t say Charlize Theron’s beauty is overrated. Don’t say it! Don’t! I said, don’t say it!

Who cares if her dress is one of Charo’s old ones or if her shoes were bought from a 90-year-old’s estate sale. The woman is magic! She’s the only female I would let touch my no-no hole. That private place is only meant for…for….well…any dude with a working dick. A working dick and a pulse! I’m not into that dead sex shit.

Here’s Charlize showing these dumb tramps how it’s done at the Christian Dior Cruise collection in NYC yesterday.

Shayne Lamas, the winner of The Bachelor, is celebrating her engagement to Matt Grant by posing in Girls Gone Wild magazine. Shauna Sand must be proud.

22-year-old Shayne is featured in a six-page photo spread. The spread features no nudity. Boring! She’s saving showing off her chocha and nippies for Penthouse when her fake ass engagement to Matt expires.

Girls Gone Wild magazine?! What does the ultra-sophisticated Lorenzo Lamas have to say about this? He’s probably going to have the magazine framed and put over his bathroom toilet.

Actually, I think this makes me love Shayne’s trashy ass even more. I mean, Girls Gone Wild?!

VIA People

I don’t know what’s more upsetting? The fact that the Real World is entering its 21st season or that it has chosen Brooklyn as its next location. 21 fucking seasons?! I can’t believe they are still able to find fools who want to get drunk and vomit on basic cable television.

Shooting for Real World 21 begins this summer in Brooklyn. The show’s co-creator sent Gothamist this release, “The Brooklyn season, like the Hollywood season, will focus on what people loved about ‘The Real World’ when it launched in 1992 – genuine people, meaningful conflict and powerful stories.” Um…didn’t the Hollywood season feature a bunch of skanks who got drunk and fucked each other? Really meaningful and powerful.

It’s not know what part of Brooklyn the producers have chosen to terrorize, but some think it’s going to be Williamsburg. Personally, I they should put that shit in East New York or Coney Island. Watching the locals beat the hell out of these wannabe whores will make it the best season ever.

Image: Gothamist