At this point, we're all used to wet heaving through our eye holes at Brit Brit looking like she was just crowned Miss People of Walmart, but this is a whole new level of NO. Wheel out the barbecue grill and burn it all. The ozone layer will gladly take the hit. The only place safe for eyes to land on this picture is that cupcake in SPF's hand. The rest is a violation against humanity. I've said before that I'm sort of okay with chirrun wearing Crocs, since those rubber devil hooves are more comfortable than a whale's vagina (apparently), but SPF's mismatched Crocs tell me he has more than one pair in his closet. Why does he have more than one pair of Crocs? That's double the evil. Screw the Boogeyman , the real terror hiding in the bedroom closets of children is Crocs. Call the trailer witch and light the sage. Speaking of evil showing itself through footwear...
What in the HALE kind of GD UGGs are those? Are those knit condoms for UGGs?! It looks like a pair of leg warmers giving birth to tumors. Those are what Lucifer's minions wear when performing "What A Feeling" in the Ninth Circle Ballet. Those UGGs paired with those seriously sophisticated pocket-baring coochie cutters make Brit look like she's halfway through morphing into a dwarf pony.
WHYYYYYYYYYYY to all of this.
Will somebody please buy a box of Popeye's fried chicken chips, find Brit Brit on the streets of Santa Barbara and offer to trade her that deliciousness for those devil's intestines boots? She'll do it and then you can throw that shit into the fire.
So, I used to have this boyfriend who liked to call me "kitten" ("Does anybody know where I can find a vampire to glamour that thought from the storage unit in my brain?" - you) as a joke and one time I was playing my voicemails on speakerphone in the break room of my job. Just as my boyfriend said "Hi kitten, it's me," my supervisor strolls in and says something like, "I know you're not a 4-year-old white girl and I know that's not your father. That voicemail is completely inappropriate and nobody other than you needs to hear that. Shit, I don't even know if you need to hear it." She had a point. That's sort of how I feel about this video message one of Brit Brit's owners, Jason Trawick, uploaded for the whole world to see.
It's supposed to be sweet, but to me it looks like a cross between a death bed goodbye video and a hostage situation video. Either dude got into Brit Brit's pill stash or he's bleeding from the butt and slowly falling into a coma while recording this mess. Even his tongue sounds drugged up. I mean, that lisp....
It's been a quick millisecond since the X-Factor started filming in Austin, TX and STUNT QUEEN extraordinaire Simon Cowell is already pulling out the tricks. TMZ says that Brit Brit played the quit this bitch card by leaving the judge's table, because she was upset that a contestant on stage slowly murdered her "Hold It Against Me." Yeah, I didn't know it was humanly possible for a ho to make that song sound any worse than it really does. Brit Brit is the only bitch allowed to butcher her songs! So she stormed backstage right after she asked her conservators and three local judges for permission to do so. But she still did it! The perfect commercial break cliffhanger! Will Brit Brit come back? Is she backstage shaving her weave off with one hand while umbrella-ing a production assistant in the dick with the other? Will the audience's bulging and shocked eyeballs ever retreat into their sockets? Will Simon Cowell ever stop deviously patting his hairy chest muffins while cackling over how much attention this mess is getting.
TMZ says that a few contestants auditioned before Brit Brit finally came back to her seat. Some people on Twitter say that it wasn't even that much of a Norma Desmond moment and Brit Brit just took a quick break from judging. They said she eventually came back to the judge's table.
Hold up. Brit Brit took a break while all the other judges sat there? I know what kind of break that was. It was an "unleash the prairie dog" kind of break. Bitch broke it off right over the toilet. Forget the match, somebody light a torch (or a lighter in front of a can of AquaNet will do). That's what happens when Brit Brit eats a Snickers and Doritos sandwich before showtime.
Correction: It's not totally what I expected. That headline is a liar. I expected to see a gigantic tub (made of Cheetos powder and bacon glue) full of Fresca and buttered popcorn-flavored Jelly Bellies in there. Maybe she's saving that for the live shows.
Seen here looking like a scared kindergarten on picture day who was told to keep her hands to herself, Brit Brit started her first day as judge on The X-Factor in Austin, TX today. Before the Louisiana trailer park blossom judges bitches who have more natural singing talent than she does, she has to fill her belly bag with fried chicken, Doritos and Diet Coke stew. Something called Look Magazine (via Entertainmentwise) says these are Brit Brit's dressing room demands:
34 Herve Leger bandage dresses
12 Snickers bars
6 cases of Diet Coke
10 bags of Doritos
12 vases of magnolias
10 pieces of fried chicken
4 pints of tater salad
1 manicurist, 1 facialist and 1 massage therapist
The manicurist is there to scrub the Doritos smemga out of her nail gutters. The facialist is there pick the pieces of fried chicken dingles off of her cheeks. And the massage therapist is there to knead out the doody knot that's in her ass from eating all that shit. But seriously, that list is actually pretty tame for Brit Brit. You'd think she'd force them to move a Circle K into her trailer. It's a sad day when Brit Brit is eating fried chicken and a Snickers for lunch instead of sucking off a gas station nacho cheese dispenser like she did in the old days. There's not even Velveeta grits on that list!
Brit Brit as an X-Factor judge sort of makes sense, because think of all the ad dollars from Starbucks, Frito-Lay and Taco Bell she'll bring in, and if she goes off the script that her puppet handlers will feed into her ear during the live shows, she could be entertaining. Like watching a trailer full of blond weave tracks slowly tumble down an embankment. But Demi Lovato?! Chaka Khan practically threw herself at Simon Cowell for the job and he gives it to a trick who is probably known by most of the world as, "?????????" Hell, Chaka could've pulled off her hair, dropped it into the judge's chair and it still would make a better judge than Demi Lovato. Seeing these four trollops judge a singing competition together is either going to be as awkwardly stiff as visiting your boyfriend in the mental hospital the morning after he had a nervous breakdown in a gay bar (true story) or it's going to be a glorious disaster.
Simon Cowell confirmed all the rumors at the FOX Upfronts in NYC today by officially announcing Brit Brit and Demi as Paul Abdul and Nicole Scherwhatever's replacements. Brit Brit's conservators will make $15 million from this and maybe give her a $20 a week as allowance. Demi will probably be paid in a validated parking pass and a $5 lunch voucher for the cafeteria.
In all seriousness, we shouldn't be surprised by Simon's choices, because what do you expect from a grown man who combs his hair so it looks like he's got a hairy butt on his head. I really hope John Travolta tries to fuck Simon's hair.
Here's a few pictures from Upfronts today and it's nice to see that Brit Brit still has a special way with making a $5,000 designer dress look like some shit from Rainbow.
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.
Deadline Hollywood says that the rumor that Simon Cowell is trying to fill one of the empty judge's chairs on X-Factor with the Louisiana trailer park blossom is coming true. Simon wants X-Factor to rise to the top like his man tits when he inhales and so he's offered Brit Brit $10 million to join the judge's panel for the second season. Simon is looking for two lady judges to replace walking Vicodin pill Paula Abdul and Nicole Scherlyyoualreadyforgotthishosfullname.
If Brit Brit's string pullers tell her to take the money, she will be making about as much as Xtina is making for The Voice and $2 million less than JLo is making for American Idle. The Hollywood Reporter is hearing that Brit Brit's fiancé Sam Merlotte Lite is negotiating her contract and if talks aren't derailed from her insisting that they let her judge while sitting in a plastic trash can full of Frapps, the deal will be done next week. The squinting Falcor LeAnn Rimes is also talking to Simon about taking the other spot after Janet Jackson gave a thumbs down to it.
Brit Brit isn't allowed to open her mouth in public unless she says words pre-approved by her team of puppet handlers, so I'm not sure how this is going to go. Is the whole thing going to be scripted? Is there going to be a Campbell Soup can phone on the table in front of her and every time she has to say something, she'll put it to her ear and repeat the words she hears? Is she going to sit on Daddy Spears' lap and move her mouth as he imitates her voice while giving criticisms like "Aw, you're so sweet" and "Aw, that was awesome!" Please let it be the last one.
Tony Bennett Calls For The Legalization Of The Good Shit, The Bad Shit And Every Other Kind Of Shit!
If President Obama, Congress and all the Houses quit their jobs and handed all their power over to Tony Bennett, you'd soon be able to waltz into a Duane Reade to pick up a bottle of lube (not the Pimp Mama Kris-endorsed one), a bag of hot fries, a roll of toilet paper and a box of crack rocks. At Clive Davis' pre-Grammy gala, held at the same hotel where Whitney Houston passed away, Tony said that deaths of Amy Winehouse, Michael Jackson and Whitney might have not happened if all drugs were legal. Preach it, pepaw!
"First it was Michael Jackson, then Amy Winehouse, now, the magnificent Whitney Houston. I'd like every person in this room to campaign to legalize drugs.
Let's legalize drugs like they did in Amsterdam. No one's hiding or sneaking around corners to get it. They go to a doctor to get it."
The only shit I know about Amsterdam I learned from an episode of House Hunters International, but I'm pretty sure that only weed is legal there and they still have to buy their 8-balls from a sketchy dealer with stank breath in the dark part of an alley way like the rest of us. Also, Michael Jackson died of a prescription pill overdose and it's looking like Whitney didn't take any illegal drugs before she went up to star in Heaven's remake of Sparkle with Aaliyah. It is kind of bizarre that Xanax and Valium are completely legal, yet whenever my weed man comes to visit, I have to pat him down to make sure he's not wearing a wire tap. Actually, that's not why I pat him down. I pat him down because he lets me and it's pretty much the only kind of action I get.
Anyway, Pepaw Tony means well and some of what he says sort of makes sense if you think about how many billions are spent and how many people die from the war on drugs shit. But that's some shit for a different day. I think what Tony is really trying to say is that he wants to be able to buy a damn joint wherever he goes.
Here's a few pictures from Clive Davis' gala last night and let me predict the future by typing what you're going to think in about 5 seconds: What in the name of veiny titty balls was Kim Kardashian doing there?! Call me Miss Cleo.
In order: Toni Braxton, Rita Wilson & Tom Hanks, nobody, Glamberace, Amber Rose (no comment on those Klingon brows and gremlin lips), Diana Ross, a Diana Ross wannabe and Our Lady of Perpetual Cheetos.
Brit Brit Spears posted this video the other day of SPF busting moves in her Home Goods showroom of a living room and let's just say that if any members of the Spears family should be charging $125 a ticket, it should be SPF! The best part is when SPF pushes JJ into the invisible wings for trying to upstage his ass by rolling in front of him. SPF is a one-Cheetoling show.
Brit Brit's concert understudy has been found. SPF doesn't even need to learn the lyrics to her songs. Just give him a piece of Bubble Yum to chew on and he'll look like he has better lip-synch skills than Brit Brit does. A star in the Cheetoverse has been born.
Sam MerLESS (it's Saturday, leave me alone) made Brit Brit happier than a cross-eyed possum the other night when he asked her if she'd take him as her conservator-appointed husband and she flashed the shiny finger joobreeees he gave her all around Las Vegas last night. But Brit Brit's deep fried soul wasn't creaming itself over the engagement ring, it was losing it over all the cake, lollies, cake, lollies and caaaaaaaake she was presented with at her engagement party and his birthday party. Diamonds ain't a Brit Brit's best friend, granulated sugar is. Nothing turns her inside sads into inside happies like SUGAR! Brit Brit usually looks like a dead deer caught in broken headlights, but all her lights went on when they gave her cake.
You can't tell from these pictures, but Brit Brit fell so in love with that cake that she took off her diamond ring and stuffed it into the cake while asking it to be her betrothed. Then she swallowed that cake whole, pooted out the ring, slipped it back on her finger and fell back into a cloud of bloated bliss knowing that her ring was once inside her real true love. I mean, this is look the of true love.
Not only is that the look of true love, it's also the look Kim Richards makes when she tries to let out a brain and butt fart at the same time.
It looks like Brit Brit had a happy night all around. That's good she didn't let it get her down when a pack of rabid raccoons jumped her and scratched at her neck after mistaking her for a member of their rival gang. That's what she gets for doing her eyes up like a hood rat raccoon on heroin.