When Britney Spears turned off her microphone for her last show at Planet Hollywood in Vegas on New Year’s Eve (HAHAHA who am I kidding? It’s been off the whole time!), every bachelorette party and gay weekend plan shed a tear knowing their favorite lip-synching “dancer” would no longer be an option for a raunchy weekend in Sin City. Alas, it seems like she won’t be gone for long. In fact, she’s just going across the street. Continue reading
Paris Hilton is supposed to be some kind of grown ass woman these days but it seems like she’s having a hard time letting go of the past. She disappeared for awhile and was blissfully absent from the public eye for several years only to reemerge when the she noticed that the atmosphere was hospitable for petty, egomaniacal, wispy haired people with namesake hotels, a penchant for revisionist history, manipulating the media and gaslighting their enemies. And so, much like a herpes flareup, Paris is back and it’s embarrassing.
When I went to the movies yesterday, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos nachos were discounted and that could mean only one of two things: 1. That shit wasn’t selling and they needed to move bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos to make way for real gourmet treats like hot dog bites. Or 2. They were celebrating the 36th anniversary of the birth of Our Lady of Cheetos. The reason is probably #1, but I’m choosing to believe it’s #2.
Britney Spears turned 36 yesterday, and being the generous saint she is, she gave her fans and the world a gift. She gave us the rare and hardly heard gift of her live singing voice. Mark December 2, 2017, as the day that Lucifer and his minions were treated for hymopthemia after hell froze over when a live musical noted floated out of Brit Brit’s mouth.
The socialite of yesteryear, Paris Hilton, likes to take credit for a lot of the shit we do/endure these days. For instance, we can blame her for “That’s hot,” the annoying AF celeb inundation at Coachella, and Kim Kardashian. So it only makes sense that Paris is trying to take claim for another invention that isn’t exactly hers. Continue reading
Last month, J. Harvey posted about the further artistic expressions of Britney Spearscasso when he shared a Twatter video of her letting the spirits of the masters (Monet, Van Gogh, Bob Ross, etc…) run through her body to her fingers. While wearing the exact same paintin’ makin’ ensemble that Cézanne wore (shorty shorts, a baggy shirt that has been splattered with paint by her assistants to make it look like she’s been working hard and two push-up bras that suffocated her CheeCheetos), Britney gracefully painted a one-of-a-kind masterpiece. That painting is complete and is now hanging over the toilet in Robin Leach’s powder room, probably.
Everyone needs to speak their truth and express themselves artistically. Some artists, however, don’t want to be locked into just one form of artistic expression. Take Britney Spears for example. Sometimes lip-synching in a fatigued manner and making half-hearted attempts at choreography isn’t enough for a true artiste. And that’s why she takes to the canvas and paints.
Britney threw on a halter top and some booty shorts to show her Instagram followers one of her many talents. An artist in the post-Impressionism mold, her deliberate brush strokes and thoughtful use of color reveals more about her than “E-Mail My Heart” ever could. Actually, she could probably put this on Etsy and some crazed fan would spend big bucks to snatch it up. It’s a whole new revenue stream for Brit.