Ah, we get it. Britney saw The Break-Up and was inspired by Jennifer Aniston's celluloid move of waxing off her nether wig to tantalize her ex.



Yes, indeedy! Show off your bald beav to throngs of strangers. That'll teach the Fed not to treat you like an ATM with an oft-full womb! Boy oh boy, you are learnin' him but good!

You know the drill by now. Cut, click, panty hamster.  

Hey, readers. Hey. How's it going? Great, great.



Friends, we are certain that you are asking yourselves why we just put that picture of Paris and her minion Spears--in a fully see-through shirt--on our front page when it is generally our policy to keep the pinkish bits confined to after cuts (see how we care about you and don't want you to get fired?). The answer is simple--this is the most demure picture we have of Britney Spears today. For real. Within the last twenty-four hours she has shed the last of her inhibitions and undergarments, and after the storied very NSFW cut, you will take a mystical journey to the very core of Britney Spears, so grab your lighted mining helmet, grappling hook, and a light snack--it might take a while for you to find your way back out.  

Yesterday Lindsay Lohan was all like, "Paris hit me. She's such a bitch." Today she's all like, "Paris is my best friend. Why is everyone spreading these lies about us?" And tomorrow she'll be all like, "Paris Hilton is half donkey. And that's not a metaphor or whatever. Her real dad is a donkey. But I still love her."  

Always one to jump on a PETA-approved trend, Pam Anderson has filed for divorce from her husband of less than four months, Kid Rock. We know that the trend-setting abilities of Reese and Ryan and, especially, Britney and KFed are often irresistable to lesser-caliber celebrities, but we thought Pam and Kid's shared love of plastic palookas constrained by teeny bikinis, PBR, and rabbit-like sex in public (we assume) would be enough to last at least a year or two.  

Paris might be busy using Britney Spears as a hotness inflator, but it seems that she still has enough time to tilt her magnifying glass of evil towards the hapless ant that is Lindsay Lohan, cackling as she sizzles under the sun's death ray. Apparently, Paris must have really enjoyed the taste of blood she got from her alleged Shanna Moakler fisticuffs, and has gotten a little punchy with our poor, beleaguered Firecrotch.  

When celebrity couples break up we are usually reduced to crying and screaming and weeping and kicking passing puppies in the head. But when Britney Spears and Kevin Federline broke up we baked a twelve-layer cake, drank a case of two buck Chuck, and took the good jewels out of the vault. It was a party. But the crying and screaming et al. can now commence, as Kevin claims that no Ferderspears sex tape exists.  

Paris: Everyone knows that I'm, like, super super hot, but I just figured something out. If I stand next to people who get their clothes out of the Salvation Army drop box and can't keep their weaves on straight--like this girl--I look even hotter.  

Well, it was a monumental weekend, folks.



That's right! You are correct. It WAS, indeed the annual Winter Dreamscape Ball at Tinsley Frank Senior High. It was truly a night to remember, as evidenced by this beautiful portrait of the couple crowned Prince and Princess Snowflake, snapped right before their official dance to "I Still Believe" by Brenda K. Starr!  

Kevin Federline is sticking to his claim that's he's a great parent and loves his kids. He just can't buy them shit like food and clothes and shelter and Bubble Yum.  

Kevin Federline is begging Britney Spears to take him back. Obviously this is motivated by a deep commitment to his home and family and a love for his children and a devotion to his wife. It has nothing to do with the fact that he'll soon be a charter member of the Burger King layaway plan.  

Tom Cruise's transformation into John Revolta is just about complete. Unflagging, career-threatening devotion to Xenu? Check. A hot actress wife with early career nudity? Check. A solid layer of insulating yet female-fan-repelling fat? Check. Keeping those icky ladies away may be a plus, but popping buttons and bursting seams during your wedding ceremony is most definitely a minus.  

Kevin Federline is so broke--how broke is he?--he's so broke he has to smuggle comped booze out of restaurants. (We're sorry. That was awful. We'll try harder next time.) Luckily he has a burgeoning poetry career to fall back on. Hopefully we'll soon be able to put a book of his poems (working title: Federline, Pimping Poems Like They's Bitches) on our shelf next to our prized volume of the poetry of Jewel. Although we doubt that even the inspired verse of Mr. PopoZao can live up to one of our favorite lines from Jewel: "Vincent said she was like screwing a corpse, but a 16-year-old corpse with young tits, so it wasn't bad."  

It's official: For every day until the end of time (or at least until Britney's demise in a bizarre poisoned hair-extension accident) you will encounter a minimum of three gossip items concerning Britney Spears and/or Kevin Federline. Today, Kevin allegedly tries to sell a sex tape, but if that falls through he'll always have that intriguing surveillance footage from his car, and Vogue turns down free pics of Jayden.  

The night before last, in front of God and paparazzi and a doorman and everyone, Lindsay Lohan called Paris Hilton THE C-WORD. Oh, and furthermore, speaking of c-words, Lindsay's multitudinous beaux must be having a problem finding hers--although by this point we've all seen it so often that our three-year-old cousin can draw it from memory--because she's now taken to donning a map to the treasure:
 

Kevin Federline must have done some pretty shitty things to his soon-to-be ex-wife, because Britney wants him living on the street begging for change and Fubu gear. We haven't seen Brit's dogs in a while; maybe Kevin heard purse pooches provide a better high than shrooms and tried to stuff them in his bong and smoke them.  

Today in Britney news: You can stop the "analysis" you've been conducting of that supposed Britney Spears sex tape. It's a fake. But if your perversions run more toward reckless child endangerment rather than wagging wangs, then you're in luck, as Kevin Federline is suing Britney for custody of their two children. And we're almost 87% positive that Kevin has enough tact not to resort to a Sean P./Jayden/Apple Martin sex tape for cash. 87%.  

On most days pictures of a re-hotted Britney Spears letting Jayden's favorite hobby (i.e. her breasts) hang halfway out of her dress would be big f-ing news and we wouldn't need to say another word about our favorite poptart. But today isn't just any day. It's the day of all hope and glory and regained wanking possibilities. Britney lost an unsightly layer of blubber surrounding her once-worshiped physique, and she also lost that big pile of donkey shit she's been carting around and covering in diamonds for two years. So today we have two Britney stories. After the jump, sex tape, fake wedding, possible fake divorce. Oh holy day!  

Look out the window! Pigs are flying! Also, newborn kittens and rainbow glitter funfetti are raining from the heavens! Why?

Britney Spears has filed for divorce! She's casting off the oppressive, Axe Body Spray-scented Federshackles and is about to spread her wings and fly free! Details after the cut!  

We know this will come as a complete, out of left field surprise to you, but Neil Patrick Harris, a man who is a well-known fixture in the musical theater scene and who played someone named "Doogie", is gay.  

Sometimes reading gossip magazines is like living in the world described in A Handmaid's Tale, a world in which everyone's eyes are glued to women's lower abdomens, breathlessly anticipating the faintest hint of bloat, loose-fitting garments, or A.M. barfing. The latest uterus under scrutiny is the one nestled in Angelina Jolie's sexy guts, and sources allege that she's about to make it Irish twins. Trendy double stroller with extra-large latte holder TK!  

Is Lindsay Lohan simply over-the-moon at not having one vodka-and-red-bull or dipping into her emergency vial in a whopping ninety days, or is she just fucking with us? We may never know, unless she starts sporting a second chip that proclaims "Ninety Days Celibate." Then we'll definitely know she's fucking with us.  

A part of us died the day we heard that Brad and Jennifer Aniston decided to end their union. A part of us that we can never get back. The part of us that believed in love. The last year has been cold and hard and ugly, metaphorically blackened with tar and coated with frost. And just when we felt we, like Gloria Estefan after her tragic bus accident, were coming out of the dark, Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe announce that they are legally separating. And the thick hoar grows over our hearts anew.  

Yesterday, Nicole Richie fell down. But she did not go "boom", presumably, due to her lack of girth. So she fell down and went "tap". Or maybe a weak, metallic "ping", perhaps.  

Nicole Richie has entered a treatment facility. But it's not because she's anorexic. She's just tired. Tired of not eating! Ho, ho. We are comic geniuses. Like Carrot Top and Gallagher and our uncle Schlomo all rolled into one.  

Remember the other day when we said that Kate Moss was going to produce the world's first 95% cocaine baby? Well, we were wrong. It'll be more like 85% cocaine, 10% champagne.