Yesterday afternoon, these photos were taken of Britney Spears outside of Starbucks, and although she did have a delicious beverage (that’s my frap of choice too, Britney!), this girl did not look any kind of happy.  In doing my part to help her out, I’ve devised a list of advice to help her not look so crazy.

1. I’m not entirely sure what could make a person’s hair do that, but when you’re having a bad hair day, just try a ponytail or a cute hat!  You’ll protect your clearly damaged hair while also protecting your face from the sun!
2. If you’re wearing a white shirt, it’s best to wear a nude-colored bra to match your porcelain skin, Brit.  That way, the focus won’t be on that patterned bra that looks suspiciously like mesh, but instead it will be on your pretty face!
3. There are only two kinds of people who should wear those socks:  costume party attendants and waitresses at themed restaurants.  I don’t think you are either of those, Britney, so get some hot summer sandals or a more functional pair of ankle socks, and save your calves from the sweltering heat!
4. When you go for a more racy look, it’s always a necessary step to make sure your panties aren’t visible. A simple fix would be going for an undergarment with less fabric, or you could be especially daring and just go commando! We all know you’re no stranger to that!

I hope these tips help, Britney!

So, you all know the World Cup is (still) going on. It’s all I hear about on the news, from my friends, and from the goddamned vuvuzelas, which, incidentally, make me want to hang myself. K?

Well, it looks like Katy Perry’s kind of sick of hearing about the Cup, too, and now she claims that fiance Russell Brand is shunning her in favor of various matches — and by “various,” I mean “all.”

However, it doesn’t look like she’s taking it to heart. She claims that she’s got the eternal one-up on the World Cup, and it all has to do with BLOWJOBS. ORAL SEX. FELLATIO. All of that. Perry blasts the Cup, saying:

“Oh, I’m a World Cup widow. It’s been tough. What did Russell say to me the other day? He did this little play on words and ended up saying that he loved the World Cup more than me. But I know that’s not the case. The World Cup does not give blow jobs. That’s one thing I win.”

She’s probably not all too bothered about it, though, anyway. Having Russell Brand’s beady-eyed attention drawn away from you? Worth a thousand words — ones that I have no gumption to sit here and type out for you (I’m already at 210, no pun intended). But it’s a win.  Having an excuse not to blow Russell Brand ’cause he’s too tied up in futbol? Epic win, indeed.

Dear Mike,

We are cold. We are chafed. We have been used on countless occasions as the intermediary between a drunk chick with thick legs and too much makeup and the penis we can only assume hangs somewhere, sadly, beneath our bulging, defined curves. It is dwarfed, really, by us. And that was fine for awhile. We could play wingman like that. We could fall on the grenade, our perfect form attacked again and again by the literal underbelly of the type of chicks you took home to bang before you got this television gig.

But it’s gone too far. We have become a prop in one of John Mayer’s jokes, like Jessica Simpson. We don’t like being touched so much. We don’t like being on display like this. We don’t like repping workout products. We’re not even especially impressive abs, when compared to, say, Matt Felker’s.

Please, please stop this insanity. Keep your clothes on, dude.

With all due respect,
Your Abs

I love Goldie Hawn. She’ll just show up to the most random shit and be like “Look! I’m here! I can’t make any guarantees as to what my mouth will be doing at any given time, but, then again, neither can my daughter! Do you like what I’ve done with my breasts? Does anyone here have weed?”

This was the Elephant Parade Auction in London, which benefits a hospital or something else that needs benefiting.

Elizabeth Hurley showed up as a perfect foil. Elizabeth Hurley is the most beautiful and perfect person on the planet and Father Time will not do anything to change that because her billionaire husband acquired him in a recent merger and keeps him in a basement and makes him watch The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill But Came Down a Mountain on a loop all day every day.

Also there: Princesses Beatrice (the skinny one with the anime eyes) and Eugenie (white dress, no further comment).

But come on, nothing — and I mean nothing — is accidental when you’re married to Tori Spelling, am I right?

Spelling’s husband, Dean McDermott, was hospitalized late yesterday afternoon after suffering a collapsed lung as a result of a dirt biking accident. Poor Dean’s lung is also punctured. Though McDermott is currently in intensive care, his rep reports that he’s recovering nicely and will be released to go home in a few days.

Man. Some guys will go to the most extreme lengths in order to get away from their cryptkeepers wives for even the briefest periods of time.

Well, get well soon, Dean, and get back to doing your manly thing with Donna Martin!

Just when thought that there wasn’t enough paraffin in the world to replicate this delectably distinguished derriere, you were wrong. It’s just a whole ‘nother ball of wax, guys.