Britney Spears

Betrayal comes in many forms and today betrayal comes in the form of these pictures of Brit Brit Spears putting her mouth on a delicious cheesy grocery snack that didn't come from the sticky loins of Chester Cheetah. Brit Brit hasn't changed her weave and her love of fug footwear in years, and I figured that she would never change her undying devotion for Cheetos, but I was wrong. Brit Brit has cheated on Cheetos a few times before, but on Sunday, she did it in broad daylight and in front of the Cheetolings. Shameless!

This is the reason why Chester cries. It's also the reason why Chester will spend his night drowning his sorrows in Cheetos vodka while singing the lyrics to a Toni Braxton song. You know a ho's heart is really broken when they're singing some Toni Braxton shit.

While some of us were spending our Saturday afternoon trying to perfect the Easter Cadbury Creme Egg mojito (aka a tall drink of delicious barf) recipe we got from the gourmet journal The Daily Mail, Brit Brit Spears was in Kentwood, LA steering her blue plastic and metal chariot through the aisles of the hillbilly Shangri-La that is Walmart. The People of Walmart disappoint me, because in every single one of these pictures, they should be bowing down and showering her with the coupons they cut out from the PennySaver, because this is their queen. Brit Brit dressed up for them and everything and they failed to pay tribute to her. For shame.

Yes, that bruised and battered weave looks like it has more grease in it than the back of Matthew McConaughey's panties, but the worst part of this look is at the opposite end of her body. Brit Brit is always killing me softly with her UGGs. I am way too hungover and not daytime drunk enough to deal with that shit. I think those tin man UGGs gave me mercury poisoning.

All the rhinestone belly rings that are collecting dust on the back wall of Claire's are about to be snatched up, because everyone will bedazzle their stomach knobs like it's 2001 after seeing style icon Brit Brit wearing one. If your belly button doesn't look like it's barfing up rhinestones, then you're doing "beach time glamour" wrong. With a weave that came from the sea sitting on top of her head and a cigarette in her hand, Brit Brit lounged on the balcony of a house in Malibu over the weekend. Who knew that USA Gold cigarettes, Diet RC Cola, Frapps and fried chicken grease did a body good?

You know, if you replaced that cig with an exotic berry Bartles & Jaymes wine cooler, covered her in Hawaiian Tropic dark tanning oil and put her on an ALF towel, you'd have everybody's mom circa 1989.

And since we're on the subject of refined southern belles, here's America's other favorite beauty queen of the south Mama June drinking America's holy water in Georgia over the weekend.

Daddy Spears obviously insists on sending Brit Brit out for staged hand holding photo-ops with her leased boyfriend David Somethingoranother, but couldn't he fix her style beforehand? This makes the veins in my eyeballs hurt since we're so used to seeing Brit Brit looking like the fashion icon she is in baggy, grease-stained sweats, a t-shirt that doubles as a booger rag and fug boots that are meant to be given out as a gag gift.

I liked that dress better when Lily Tomlin wore it in Big Business. It looks like something a Project Runway contestant would come up with if they had to make a flight attendant dress out of tablecloths and napkins from a Sweet 16 birthday party. And she just had to go full fug by pairing a black and pink dress with your memaw's least favorite brown church shoes. Those are dookie shoes. And he looks like the maitre d' of a Cracker Barrel.

I swear, Daddy Spears is totally just screwing with us now.

The walls of Brit Brit's Chateau de Cheetos in Thousand Oaks, CA are definitely covered with one-of-a-kind painting from masters like Thomas Kinkade, Bob Ross, George W. Bush, C.M. Coolidge and the genius who is responsible for those moving waterfall plug-in pieces. And yesterday, she added another work of art to her impressive collection.

After leaving Target, Brit Brit spotted a sidewalk gallery and made her bodyguards pull over that so she could lay her artistic eye on several pieces of fine art. After going through several paintings, she finally settled on the kind of piece you'd find hanging over a booth at a Mimi's Cafe. I'm sure it will look absolutely stunning hanging over her Genevieve The French Maid table from SkyMall.

Brit Brit and my mom should go shopping together for fine home furnishings, because my mom may or may not have been known to buy paintings from the swap meet and she may or may not have been known to buy oriental rugs from a vendor in the parking lot of an abandoned gas station.

Brit Brit showed up to Elton John's Oscar viewing party at the Pacific Design Center in West Hollywood last night and let's use math to decide whether or not she looks good or looks like a haggard mess.

The hair: The animal was that was scalped to make Brit Brit's weave is the same animal that was scalped to make John Travolta's wig. It looks clean, freshly combed and dingle-free, so it's an upgrade! Although, she probably ate most of her weave after some dumb bitch at the party just had to tell her that her hair color reminded them of a delicious iced macchiato.

Score: + 25

The dress: Brit Brit usually wears elegant clothes that look like they came from a Contempo Casuals fire sale, but this dress doesn't. It looks like it came from a Cache outlet.

Score: - 25

The self tanner: The color of that shade is "watered down Easy Mac" and nothing makes me sadder than realizing that I put way too much water in a bowl of Easy Mac.

Score: - 10

The make-up: That Wet 'n Wild lip liner tells me that Brit Brit obviously gets inspiration from beauty icon Spaz de la Huerta.

Score: +5,000!

And when I tally it all up, I get my answer: Brit Brit looks good! (The lip liner saved her.)

I don't even care that Brit Brit's eyebrows look like they went poof during a meth lab explosion. I'm just in awe of her ability to keep the memory of the important fashion houses, Contempo Casuals and Judy's, alive in one extremely sophisticated ensemble. Cancel every Fashion Week, because the Coco Chanel of our time has spoken. Bleached jeans from Mandee's are so NOW!

Even one of the Cheetolings can't handle the glamour that Brit Brit brings on a daily basis.

Wasn't it Coco Chanel who said this about fashion: "You know what? Just don't give a fuck. Don't give a fuck." Well, Brit Brit obviously co-signs that and continues to be a fashion innovator. When you see a summertime pajama set, Brit Brit sees the perfect sophisticated ensemble to wear out in public. With the Cheetolings, a bodyguard and Hannah Spears by her side, Brit Brit left a vet's office after getting her weave up-to-date on all its vaccinations. But seriously, I know I make fun of Brit Brit's gutter ass weave all the time, but I really shouldn't. Brit Brit's weave makes beautiful babies. I mean, her weave gave birth to that fluffy ball in her arms and you can't tell me otherwise.

Serving up some hillbilly Pebbles Flinstone glamour, Brit Brit Spears celebrated being off the leash by driving herself in a car to lunch at the Mondrian Hotel in Beverly Hills over the weekend. Yeah, so that's why the streets of Beverly Hills were closed and lined with mattresses. It's because Brit Brit was back behind the wheel of a car and I don't think that car had passenger side brake pedals in it.

If you replaced Brit Brit's straw broom weave with a pink wig, her pashmina with a greasy, unwashed Yorkie and her bodyguard with a mute Latina assistant, these pictures would be straight out of 2007. And Brit Brit's chest dumpling knows it, which is why it's trying to slowly exit stage right.

And those boots are making my eyes dry heave, but it could be worse. Brit Brit could be wearing UGGs or heeled CROCs with socks, so I'll give her that.

The man who looks like Sam Merlotte after a 10-day meth binge no longer has the key to the attic that Daddy Spears locks Brit Brit in every night, because their engagement is over. Damn you, blind items, for being right sometimes. TMZ, People and Radar all say that when Brit Brit wakes up tomorrow morning with the AM farts, like she does every morning, she won't be able to dutch oven Jason Trawick, because he won't be there. That's the saddest part of all.

TMZ says that Jason's paws have also been ripped off of Brit Brit's checking account, because he's no longer one of her conservators. Brit Brit's lawyers were in court this afternoon to get a judge to make Daddy Spears the sole conservator. I don't even know if Jason is an agent anymore, but Brit Brit recently moved away from his agency to another. Some source says that it was a "friendly" breakup and they're going to stay friends. Radar says that Jason has already moved all of his shit out of Casa de Frapp. Daddy Spears wrote a statement, grabbed Brit Brit's hand, made her sign it and then released it to People:

"Jason and I have decided to call off our engagement. I'll always adore him and we will remain great friends."

And Jason said:

"As this chapter ends for us a new one begins. I love and cherish her and her boys and we will be close forever."

So Brit Brit is single and might be heading to Las Vegas to move her lips and barely wave her arms in a sit down show. I really hope that Brit Brit goes to Vegas and I really hope that Daddy Spears chooses the current adonis of Vegas, Carrot Top, as her next leased fiance. Because Carrot Top will definitely appreciate her deconstructed Cheeto earrings (that's what's on her ears, right?) and I really need to see pictures of her nibbling on his mop after mistaking his hair for curly fries.