And now in “Things that will make you feel old as hell” news, Britney Spears’ kids are now old enough to do difficult math. And like real difficult, not how-much-will-three-gorditas-and-a-drink-from-Taco Bell-be difficult (which is my current standard for “hard math”). Brit Brit recently confessed to People that Sean Preston and Jayden James have moved past the two plus two stage of their book learnin’, which means she’s having a hard time helping them with their homework. So in order to keep up, she’s taking some math lessons:
“They go to a really hard school, and this week we had three hours of homework [a night]. Some of it is hard for me. Next year when [Preston’s] in fifth grade, he’s going to be doing pre-algebra, and I’m taking classes so I know how to do it!”
Brit Brit gets zero shade from me, because my dumb ass couldn’t even remember which one algebra was. I through algebra was the “If a train is headed west at a speed of 80 miles per hour” one, but it turns out it’s the X over Y equals Z one. Even with two tutors and a set of Math is Easy! VHS tapes, I still failed algebra. It was such a mind fuck: why do I need to solve for X if you already know what X is? Just tell me what X is, you sadistic bastards! My brain still hurts just thinking about it.
Not to mention that you never use that shit in the real world. I’m happy that Brit Brit is trying to be a good parent, but I doubt she’ll ever use the algebra she learned to solve how many Fraps she drank last month. I mean, you don’t need math to know that the answer will always be “lots”.
On The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon last night, Jimmy played a completely spontaneous and totally unrehearsed game of random musical impressions with the yodeling bronzer stick in a white wig we call Xtina. Xtina’s Samantha Jones impersonation could win her the first place trophy at the Snatch Game Grand Championship, so it’s no surprise that she can spit out pretty good impersonations. Xtina did Cher, Shakira and Brit Brit last night.
Xtina’s Shakira impression didn’t cause a herd of horny goats to break through the door and hump her mouth, so she doesn’t get many points for that one. But her Cher was pretty spot-on and after she opened her mouth to impersonate fellow Mouseketeer Brit Brit Spears, Cheetos dust, gas station fumes, Frapp foam and KFed’s jizz filled my ears. And yes, since KFed’s jizz filled my ears, my head is pregnant with triplets now.
If you really want to see Jimmy Fallon’s David Bowie and Michael McDonald impersonations, watch the whole thing. But if you’re only here to see Xtina get possessed by the spirit of Our Lady of Cheetos circa 1999, skip to the 1:45 mark in the video below:
It’s perfect. If Brit Brit ever needs a ghost singer, she knows who to call.
If Xtina was doing old-school Brit Brit, then I’d easily give her 5 out of 5 Cheetos:
But if Xtina was doing new-school Brit Brit, then I can only give her half a Cheeto and that’s being generous:
Because if she wanted to do new-school Brit Brit, she’d move her mouth for a little bit before giving up halfway to eat hot wings.
And I posted one or two of these yesterday, but here’s more of Xtina at the Vanity Fair Oscar party doing an impersonation of Double Trouble from She-Ra at a quickie wedding in Reno.
Jennifer Lopez Took Some Time Out Of Her Busy “Boy Next Door” Hustling Schedule To Throw A Little Shade At Mimi
At the same time, JLo’s titties took some time out of their busy schedule to pop out and remind you that JLo is still sexy. You know, just in case you’ve forgotten. JLo’s titties are on top of things like that. During a game of “Plead the Fifth” on Watch What Happens Live last night, Andy Cohen asked living bottle of NARS Orgasm illuminator Jennifer Lopez if she only had one night in Las Vegas, who’s show would she rather see: the drowsy pre-recorded vocal yodels of Britney Spears or the drowsy pre-recorded vocal yodels Mariah Carey. I was hoping JLo would pull a Mimi and answer “Mariah Carey…Mariah Carey…I don’t know her“, but she didn’t, because JLo wanted to yank Mimi’s wig a little harder than that by answering:
“Britney, cause she dances.”
I was waiting for JLo to add “…unlike Mariah, who does nothing but lumber around the stage like a sedated moose”, but she didn’t, because subtlety is the name of the game when you’re throwing shade. Then again, maybe that was actually a reverse read on Brit Brit, since we all know the only “dancing” you’ll see at a Brit Brit show is that drunk-aunt-at-a-family-BBQ full-body sway thing she does.
Either way, I eagerly anticipate the moment Mimi wakes up from her 5 hour mid-afternoon glitter nap and realizes that shimmer-spackled hussy JLo is talking shit about her and is like “Bitch, I got moves. You ever see me trying to get into a pair of Spanx?”
But Mimi wasn’t the only person who got a free ride to the burn ward from JLo. Joining her was Marc Anthony, Casper Smart, and all the other busted-faced hos JLo has humped on. When asked to describe her type, JLo said:
“I’m not a looks person. I don’t know if you noticed over the years. I go more for essence, for strength…sexy is important, but I don’t feel like good looking is necessarily sexy. I thought they were all hot. Other people might be like, ‘What the hell was she thinking? but I don’t care.”
Upon hearing this, Skeletor hissed “How RUDE! I’ll have you know a lot of near-sighted sorceresses in Snake Mountain find me very good looking“. Unfortunately, Casper Smart was unavailable for comment, as he is currently serving as a face model at that hospital in the Twilight Zone. Hey, a check is a check.
To quote the internal monologue in North West’s head when that hobbit who smells like paint and burnt wax picks her up from her nanny’s house for an Instagram pic session (which she’ll get cropped out of later): “Your face, I can’t place it.”
Thanks to this cover of Women’s Health, Brit Brit Spears will once again get a holiday gift basket from Adobe as a thank you for her years of support. Our Lady of Cheetos is on the cover of Women’s Health January/February 2015 issue and it took me a minute to see the Britney under all those layers of Photoshop. Brit Brit’s in there, but I also see other things like:
1. A sleep-deprived Heidi Klum after Phoebe Price’s plastic surgeon installed silicone chicken cutlets into her cheeks.
2. An unauthorized Elisabeth Hasselbeck plastic puppet that was pulled off of Walmart shelves for scaring children.
3. A Klingon that had its forehead scales shaved down and smoothed out.
With all that being said, I’d totally suck on Brit Brit’s face on the cover and solely because her new nose kind of looks like a dick.
Brit Brit also did an interview and what I mean by that is that her publicist handed the magazine a bunch of canned quotes that didn’t come out of Our Lady of Cheetos’ mouth ever. If Team Cheetos wants us to believe these quotes came from the brain of Brit Brit, they shouldn’t have used hard works like crucial, consistency, continuous, exercise, wider, cardio, important, daily, problem, motivated, etc… etc…
On her birthing hips : “My hips are a little bit wider because I’ve had kids. So it was crucial for me to be continuous with my exercise. Consistency is key.”
On how her trainers hold a piece of teriyaki possum jerky in front of her while she’s running on the treadmill: “Daily exercise is important for me both mentally and physically. I don’t mind working out. Trainers keep you motivated, but I didn’t have a problem being motivated.”
On how dancing is hard: “Dancing is a great cardio workout — tough and fun at the same time.”
And I haven’t read the whole issue, but I’m pretty sure that the one simple move to getting “insane abs” is to hold your arms above your head and let Photoshop do the rest.
Yesterday, an email dropped into my inbox with the subject “KFed’s dick!” and I clicked on that shit like the year was 2003 and I had a brand new bottle of Cheetos-scented lube next to me. I didn’t care if it was KFed’s dick during his PopoZao phase or KFed’s dick today, because I’m thirstier than Kristin Scott Thomas when she was dying in that cave in The English Patient.
But then I clicked on the link and the truth dick-slapped me right in the face. It totally wasn’t KFed’s salchicha, because the peen was completely queso-free and the bed sheets in the picture were way too clean and not covered in Doritos crumbs, In-N-Out wrappers and stains that may or may not be from Taco Bell refried beans. Not KFed!
The real life inspiration for Sweet Dee’s mentally challenged rapper piece tells TMZ that he’s seen the picture making the rounds and the beef wellington peen in the picture doesn’t belong to him. KFed’s crotch tattoos aren’t in the picture and his peen is way bigger. So he says. Yeah, you could make a joke about how it must be huge if KFed can see it past his FUPA, but I’ve always thought he had a Pringle can dick. Brit Brit was obviously dickmatized and he didn’t get “PopoZao” from the Brazilians. It’s what Brit Brit screamed the first time he stuck the tip in.
Anyway, I’ll stop with the words now and get to the dick. If you haven’t already seen Not KFed’s dick, click here to see. I’d hit it, whoever that is.
I can’t decide if John Stamos’ belly button looks like a mushroom-headed dick poking out of his stomach or a skin-colored clown nose or the button nose of a bearded old man with no eyes? Well, whatever it looks like, I’d still lube it up with Dannon Oikos yogurt and hit it.
On Jimmy Kimmel Live! last night, he presented the 8th edition of the segment where famous types read mean tweets written by either Jimmy Kimmel’s writing team or actual Twatterers. This one gave us Lela Durham (copyright: Valerie Cherish) and her dog tits, John Stamos’ bubble belly button, Lisa Kudrow (who gets an A+++ in reacting), crack head Jon Hamm, raper-faced Scott Foley, Bob Newhart, Ted Danson and his majestic silver cliff of hair and Brit Brit who wore a turkey oven bag and looked like she laughed to keep from melting into a puddle of tears and Frapps. Most of these are good, but out of the billions of mean tweets about Goopy Paltrow, that’s the one they chose?!
Big Bird should’ve read that first one, because nothing is meaner than being compared to Goopy.
In “This Is Some Brand New Information That Has Deleted My Body’s Supply of SHOCK” news, The Daily Mail says that Daddy Spears is a master puppeteer who controls every single piece of Our Lady of Cheetos’ life including who she goes on romantic Cheesecake Factory dates with.
When Normal Guy Dave was pink-slipped for insubordination (read: reportedly passing his peen to another while dating Brit Brit) a couple of months ago, Daddy Spears immediately channeled the Millionaire Matchmaker and started huntin’ for a new contract boyfriend for his hillbilly moneymaker. Some source tells the literary journal of truthful truths, The Daily Mail, that Brit Brit is one of those can’t be without a man types and her papa je’e’ thinks she’s happiest when she’s got a boyfriend. So Daddy Spears went on the hunt and found 31-year-old producer Charlie Ebersol.
Daddy Spears finally got his shit together and managed to hire a member of Hollywood royalty (we are talking about Susan Saint James here) for the title of Brit Brit Spears’ newest chaperone/boyfriend/doggy bag holder. Just two months after Normal Guy Dave got pink-slipped and took his ass to the back of the unemployment line, Brit Brit has started hanging around Charlie Ebersol, seen above in costume (I fucking hope) at his 30th birthday party 2 years ago. Charlie is the son of big-time TV producer Dick Ebersol and Susan Saint James. I know, Daddy Spears moves fast.
E! News says that Our Lady of Cheetos and this Charlie Ebersol dude met through “friends” and have been dating for only a few weeks. Some source dribbled this out:
“He is the sweetest guy ever and they are very much enjoying getting to know one another. They are both very happy and having fun. It’s just the beginning so no idea if it will become serious but right now they are having a lot of fun together.”
Charlie’s dad conceived Saturday Night Live with Lorne Michaels and he was the head bitch of NBC Sports for a while. I’m assuming everybody learned about Susan Saint James in American history class, so I’m not going to tell you all the stuff she was in. Charlie followed in his father’s producing footsteps and recently produced a non-trashy reality show called The Moment which helped people get a second chance at making their career goals come true. The show was special to Charlie, because he survived a 2004 plane crash that killed his brother Teddy.
Charlie also used to bump nipples with Sophia Bush and Maria Sharapova.
I don’t even know what a member of Hollywood royalty (again I’m saying that because his mom is Susan Fucking Saint James) and a member of hillbilly royalty have to talk about? Probably Breaking Bad. That’s usually what straight people talk about, right? If they don’t, it doesn’t matter. Talk is cheap when you’re one of Brit Brit’s contract pieces. All Charlie has to know how to do is order a Frapp, hold a Cheesecake Factory doggy bag and busy himself while she watches Frozen on her phone in between courses at Buffalo Wild Wings. I hope Daddy Spears signed Charlie to a long-term contract so that he can take Brit Brit home to meet his mom and Susan Saint James can inject some much-needed culture into her by showing her How to Beat the High Co$t of Living.
And here’s Brit Brit looking like she just got a shot of Botox in the mug and nips while leaving VONS yesterday.
As soon as the International Cheetos Leagues comes out with a petition urging Katy Perry to apologize for appropriating their culture, I will co-sign that shit with all my emails.
Because celeb whores have enough cash to spend on several costumes, they started Halloween off a little early last night with Kate Hudson’s annual costume party in the Pacific Palisades. Everyone on IMDB went to that shit including the other Katy Hudson known to all of us as Katy Perry. Slutoween is amateur hour for Katy Perry, because most days of the year she’s got her magnificent chichis out and is done up in rhinestone-embedded fuckery. So for Halloween, she covered herself up and dressed up as a deliciously processed treat that you can only stomach for so long. The beauty of a Flamin’ Hot Cheetos costume is that it can be worn several times and can be passed off as something different each time.
If you want to go vintage, you can tell everyone that you’re dressed up as Chyna’s throbbing dick clit. If you want to bring the sex, you can tell everyone you’re dressed up as Carrot Top’s slightly curved, hard peen. If you want to be topical and controversial, you can tell everyone you’re dressed up as one of the flaming turds that fall out of Not The Mama June’s deep fried pie hole. If you want to be medical, tell everyone you’re dressed up as an anal fissure and if they ask, “What’s an anal fissure,” just say, “Okay, I’m Justin Bieber.” That costume can be almost anything. So well played, Katy.
There are risks, though. If you wear a Flamin’ Hot Cheetos costume out in public, there’s a really good chance that you’ll hear the sound of loud stomping and right after you hear someone scream, “GETS IN MAH BELLY, MISTUH CHEETOZ“, you’ll black out. You’ll wake up minutes later in Brit Brit’s gut. But don’t worry, she’ll eventually shit you out and after you sign a non disclosure, Daddy Spears will send you on your way with a pile of money and a take home bowl full of Velveeta grits.
Here’s more pictures of famous (and not-so-famous) people at Kate Hudson’s party including Kate, Goldie Hawn and their friends as Sluts of Anarchy, Rachel “Chupa” Zoe as a trash bag demon and Lily Allen as Dr. Luke (because she would).
“Britney honey, use your fingers to show us how many times you were told to put down the scissors and let the stylist cut your hair.”
Since Britney Spears is now a classy high-powered underwear mogul who is trying to appeal to an upscale clientele like Duchess Kate and Chester Cheetah’s wife (I’m sure he has one and I’m sure she’s a glamorous gold-digging Cheeto-chomping orange goddess who has a taste for the finer things in life), she went ahead and decided that if she wanted to look the part of a successful panty-hustling career woman, she’d have to ditch the cut-off denim booty scooties and Old Navy 3-for-$12 ribbed tanks and slip into a white 80s power bitch business suit and cut out her ratty hair extensions. Unfortunately, Brit Brit doesn’t have the hair texture for the pinnacle of 80s power bitch business hair, aka 6 figures, 6 inches of height, which leaves her with the classic leave-room-for-the-shoulder-pads bob.
Real truth, I think Brit Brit looks so classy and sophisticated. She looks like the lady who supervises the lady who gives you a complimentary makeover at Macy’s, or a very successful Yorkiepoo breeder, or the owner of a fancy candle store, or a former Miss America. This is fancy Britney, y’all! Forget trying to sell underwear to royalty; she should be aiming higher, like aspiring Real Housewives or professional hand models. Don’t sell yourself short, Britney!
And is this the first time since The Shavening that Britney has had all her real hair? No, you’re right – there’s probably still a tiny track tucked in there somewhere for good luck. A Brit Brit without polyester hair is like a day without sunshine.
Here’s more of Jean Spears (that white suit screams Jean) showing off her new ‘do while pimping out her panties in Germany.