If you crushed pieces of Madge's Rain video, the fight scene from Mimi's Heartbreaker video and a 26-page product placement contract into a fine powder and sprinkled sweat from a Derek Blanks Alter Ego photo shoot and a splatter of Ke$ha's DayGlo vomit, you'd hallucinate Brit Brit Spears' "Hold It Against Me" video after you licked all that shit up.
This is the video that they've been hyping so much that they made it sound like after you finished watching it you'd find a bowl of Daddy Spears' Velveeta grits and a Trenta Frapp outside your front door. That didn't happen, but Brit Brit is wearing my cholita cousin's quince dress. The same quince dress that the dumb ho tried to return after she stained it with chocolate frosting and Bailey's. So I'll give Brit Brit that!
And the only thing I want to hold against Brit Brit, is an extra moist Sharpie because those brows are looking dusty.
More like "Femme Fartale" (sorry). Brit Brit is wearing a vest made of cockapoo fur and her weave was patched together using clumps of greasy wig hair found stuck in Kim Zolciak's drain, but I'm actually into the cover of her new album (which you know she pronounces "Fem-me Fart-tally"). It looks like the flier for a strip club that you'd find covered in cigarette ash and splashes of malt liquor on the sidewalk in Downtown Las Vegas. SOLD! Right?
And just so we're all clear, here's Wikipedia's definition of femme fatale:
A femme fatale (pronounced /ˌfɛm fəˈtæl/ or /ˌfɛm fəˈtɑːl/; French: [fam faˈtal], with all [a]'s) is a mysterious and seductive woman whose charms ensnare her lovers in bonds of irresistible desire, often leading them into compromising, dangerous, and deadly situations.
Yeah, I don't know if that describes our little Louisiana trailer park blossom, but it definitely describes her bowels relationship with her all-Frapp diet.
This coming February, Starbucks will release a beast of a monster that will flood your bowels with caffeinated sugar and force your stomach to hit the exit switch and slide to freedom through your asshole. Don't threaten me with a good time, Starbucks!
Starbucks is introducing a new size that is over 300ml larger than a Venti. It's called the Trenta and if you glued a penis-shaped Cheeto to it, it would be Brit Brit's next man husband.
Above is a graphic from The National Post, which shows you that you're going to need a stomach implant if you want to handle everything Trenta has to offer. Or you'll have to drink a Trenta iced coffee while getting a colonic so your stomach doesn't completely combust. It's a small price to pay for caffeine poisoning. And included in that "small price" is a $20 bill, because you know that's what you'll have to hand over for this mess.
You don't want to clog up the landfills with the Trenta, so when you're done with it you can stick a chopstick to the bottom and use it as your new favorite wine goblet!
Here's Trenta's soon-to-be wife visiting McDonald's the other day. There's no need to call Dr. Phil, Brit Brit is not cheating on Starbucks. She was only there to use their bathroom. McDonald's bathroom is way nicer than the gas station's. Their sink usually works so Brit Brit can use it as a bidet!
No Brit Brit comeback would be complete without any appearance by her most famous and loyal fan: CHRISSY CROCKER (The "Leave Britney Aloooooone" Dude for those of you who don't fuck with names)!! As Brit Brit's new song rises up the charts like your cholesterol after eating a plate of Cheetosquiles, Chris is whipping out the video for his single "Freak of Nature."
This shit is like the bastard love child of Xtina's "Not Myself Tonight" mess and The Robin Byrd Show. In Chrissy's video, he tames a hot piece while looking like a dominatrix you might find on a Craigslist ad under the subject: "Former Rock of Love Bus star available for out calls only..."
Even if this shit doesn't do it for you, you have to admit that it's sort of nice seeing what Heidi Montag's original face looked like.
via Feast of Fun
Brit Brit's feets have long been the halfway house for wayward boots to go when they've been dumped on the bottom shelf in the back of the storage room at an Off Broadway Shoes to lick on dust balls. Then when a confused and drunk salesperson accidentally pulls them out to show to a customer, the boots bust out of that bitch and jump on a freight straight headed to the PROMISE LAND (aka Brit Brit's thankles). Brit Brit's feet = Xanadu for fug boots.
Got a pair of boots that make your toe nails vomit? Send 'em to Brit. We already know this, but she has taken the fug to a whole new level by putting STUDDED UGGS on her feet. Yes, they are masquerading under the name Australia Luxe boots, but shit is still STUDDED UGGS.
STUDDED UGGS has replaced activated charcoal as the most effective way to brings up the barfs in heavy doses. STUDDED UGGS is the password to get into the trailer where the Illuminati's Louisiana chapter holds their meeting. I swear, Brit Brit's "sloth on ludes" eyes are dazzled by anything with jooree on it. If you put jewel stickers on a Ke$ha album, she'd probably put that shit on her feet too.
Hopefully now that Brit Brit's new possum yodel of a song has leaked (below), the Glittery Gays of YouTube will get on this and scrub the film of STUDDED UGGS fugness from my eyes by scootin' their sparkle holes all over their mom's garage.
And here's more of Brit Brit with the Shiloh of the South, JJ, spreading the UGG evilness in Los Angeles the other day.
Since the Louisiana swamp flower Brit Brit was dressed way too fancy for the Dollar Palace, she strolled into Walmart yesterday to buy Christmas gifts (CHEAP CHEETO BITCH!) and unknowingly pose for an exclusive People of Walmart photo shoot. And afterward, Brit Brit took her bodyguard to lunch at my favorite Michelin star gourmet fine restaurant RED ROBIN! RED ROBIN (reread that in a creepy Danny from The Shining voice).
Where else can you eat a delicious teriyaki burger under a lamp that looks like it belongs in a drag queen madam's bordello. AND THE STRAWBERRY FRECKLED LEMONADE (Or period piss as my nasty ass always calls it). You know Brit Brit spends most of her time at Red Robin trying to suck strawberry chunks through her straw (not a euphemism).
The sexy piece on the left will hold your fanny pack for you.
Brit Brit did not get beat beat by the meth-ized version of Sam Merlotte. That's what one of Brit's co-conservators tells TMZ. So Brit's cousins in Louisiana can drop their sewed off shot guns and cancel the lawn mower pilgrimage to California to whoop on Jason Trawick.
Andrew Wallet says that Star's story is a pot full of deep fried lies with crunchy lies sprinkled on top. Andrew also says that the supposed recording of Brit admitting to her first husband Jason Alexander that Jason Trawick brought the beat down on her is about as real as the cheese in her Easy Mac. Andrew says that Brit is putting her suin' dress on dropping a lawsuit in Radar and Star's laps. Brit's rep also had this to say:
"This is just another example of the irresponsible nature of the tabloid media relying on shoddy sources and false information for the sole purpose of selling magazines, without regard to the truth and without regard to who they hurt in the process. he statements attributed to Jason Alexander are a complete fabrication as Britney has not had any form of communication with Mr. Alexander in years. These irresponsible statements are defamatory and Britney Spears' legal team will be taking legal action against all of the appropriate parties."
But Jason Alexander swears on his prized possession (a Jackalope head hanging in his parent's TV room) that he's telling the truth and he's got a passed polygraph test AND a second recording of Brit Brit that proves this. The only thing that shit proves is that Jason really doesn't want to have to return the moonshine making kit and the bedside gun rack he bought with the money Star gave him. A MESS!
Jason Alexander needs to spend his time doing more important shit like trying to figure out why Jason Trawick's body looks like my He-Man action figure after I left it in the sun for a couple of weeks that summer.
Chester Cheetah Is Spreading The Vaseline On His Face And Putting His Fightin' Rings On (UPDATE: There's Audio)
That scent of boiling processed cheese and scorched corn meal floating into Jason Trawick's nostrils is the smell of revenge. If any of this is true, Chester Cheetah will leave permanent Cheeto dust marks around Jason's neck for hurting his soulmate. Star Magazine is getting serious this week with their cover story about Brit Brit Spears' alleged abusive relationship with her bought-and-paid boyfriend Jason Trainweck. Their proof is a picture of Brit with a black eye and an interview with her mess of a first husband Jason Alexander (George Costanza is not amused) who claims that she told him everything in a series of phone calls, texts and emails.
Jason Alexander tells Star that even though his marriage to Brit Brit lasted about as long as KFed's illustrious rap career, they have casually kept in touch over the years. But Brit's emails and texts made a sharp turn down Mother May I Sleep With Danger Road when she told him that Jason Trainwreck hit her in the face and beat her on several occasions. Jason Alexander tells it like this, "Britney is in an abusive relationship. She told me her life had turned into a nightmare. [Jason] hit her so hard it gave her a black eye" Jason Alexander also claims that Brit Brit told him she was pregnant with Jason Trainwreck's baby earlier this year.
There's a few things about this story that's making me throw a "You just needed a check, right?" side-eye at Jason Alexander. Instead of, I don't know, calling the police and reporting this or even calling Donna Martin to get her advice, Jason rang up the domestic abuse counselors at Star Magazine. Because seeing the cover line "BRIT BRIT'S BOYFRIEND IS A MEMBER OF THE CHRIS BROWN CLUB" is really going to tame Jason Trainwreck's supposed rage. And not only that, but I'd also like to believe that if it was true, Daddy Spears would pull the wooden ladle out of the pot of Velveeta grits and use it to chase Jason Trainwreck out of Casa del Frapps. As they say, this shit developing....
UPDATE: Now Radar posted an audio clip recorded by Jason Alexander of someone who is supposed to Brit Brit admitting that Jason Trainwreck laid a beat down on her. Or as she puts it, "Was thet befo'e o' af'er he beat meyah." I'm going to need to see the receipts, because this voice is not making the Slim Jim in my hand perk up like it should. This is probably Bit Bit not Brit Brit.
Here's Brit Brit, her Cheetolings and Jason Trainwreck arriving at LAX the other day from Kentwood.
Eight years after Daddy Spears and Lynne Spears both took their hands off the half-melted plastic ladle in their aluminum pot of coarsely ground loooove, they have put their hands back on and are stirring together again!
People says that Daddy Spears and Lynne Spears were grinding on each other at Boudoir in Los Angeles. YES, a witness-type says they were dancing on each other to their own daughter's songs. Lord, catch me as I fall. Watching Daddy Spears and Lynn Spears rhythmically hump on each other probably looks exactly like two elderly chickens with Tourettes fighting under a blanket in slow motion. Or like Demi Moore dancing in front of a mirror.
Another source says that this isn't the first time Daddy and Lynn have spent time together. Apparently, they've been licking warm grits off each other's nipples since this past summer. The source went on to say, "They are back together and are doing well and happy. They're not remarried but back together."
So now when Daddy Spears checks the possum trap in Brit Brit's backyard, he has a helping hand there to hold up the door while he wrassles up Thanksgiving dinner by the neck. And when the kitchen range breaks down for good, he can push it into the backyard for Lynn to use as a gardening table (my cousin did that shit, so I shouldn't joke) instead of throwing it out. Daddy Spears' partner in ratchetness is back!
And here's Brit Brit spending time with JJ the other day while hurting my everything with those mutant UGGS (?) on her feet.