Look at this f*ckin’ tool.
Britney’s new man, the one she was making out with, I can’t be bothered to learn his name.
He might have a job and he may be helping her produce a decent record but still…why does she insist on dudes who look like degenerates??? The kind of punks you see at the Mall, practicing that faux limp, one oversized pant leg dragging behind the other, a pager in one hand, cell phone in the other, sucking on a toothpick, gesticulating with ring-adorned fingers surrounded by a crew of equally ravishing, barely employed young men who believe that the size of one’s posse is in direct proportion to the size of one’s penis, but who inevitably end the evening with a ride home on the bus.
This apparently is what turns Britney’s shaved crank. And just a day after sticking his tongue down her throat, he shows up at The Ivy eager for the photo opp. Too bad he’s absolutely revolting.
Suddenly Marc Anthony doesn’t seem to bad, non?