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.
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.