“I see myself as totally insane. I’m totally moody. Of course. And I’m totally out of my mind. And I’m always myself. I don’t analyze myself and I don’t compare myself to other people.”

Leave it to a seventeen year-old to take pride in their adolescent psycho moodiness. You remember being a high school kid, don’t you? Were we all like this? Angsty and dramatic with an overblown perception of who we actually were, unaware that in the grand scheme of things that we were actually no more unique than anyone else? Probably.

Right now I’m going to let her slide on these comments ’cause she’s a kid. This time. But if she’s still pulling the same crap when she’s twenty-seven? She’s done.

Let it be said that I think Hayden Panettiere is probably one of the hottest chicks in Hollywood. And from what I gather, a whole hell of a lot of people think so too. There’s crazy fan sites dedicated to the pint-sized bombshell, and I’m sure she’s the subject of many midget-giant sexual fantasies. Hayden’s crazy hot, and though she seems kind of off the radar, she’s all the more admirable for it.

However? Hay’s apparently just like the much-less-hot rest of us — someone must have tipped her off a recent boxing match that a little ripple was going on in her upper thighs as she sat (and come the fuck on, who wouldn’t have that kind of skin shift sitting in that position?), and Hayden, bless her little soul, did her best to cover up the ‘imperfection,’ with hands, purses, and people.

But come on, girl. Unless you’re a woman with -0.001% body fat, you’re going to have those little bumps somewhere. Don’t try to hide it and pretend that you’re not just as hot as you were ten minutes ago. Carry on.

And who knows, though he might be sued, there’s no taking back the words that he’s spewed. Hey, that rhymed. Not bad for so early on a Hump Day morning. My blatant craftiness never fails to amuse. Me.

Yes, alas, the drug dealer who claims to have supplied award-winning actress and humanitarian Angelina Jolie with cocaine and heroin in the past (and can you even do that without incriminating yourself? I mean, is there some kind of statute of limitations on that kind of stuff?) has sordid details of her knife-obsessed, blood-drinking days of youth and has released them exclusively to Life & Style magazine. The dealer, Franklin Meyer, states that Angelina was always as cool as ice, didn’t hide her drug habit, and had a weird obsession with dead bodies:

“We’d see each other two to three times a week when she was in town. She would buy cocaine and also heroin,” Meyer tells Life & Style, who first met Angelina in February 1997, when she and a male friend came to buy drugs from him at NYC’s Chelsea Hotel. She was just 21, and soon became a regular. “She would generally spend about $100 each time – that would buy maybe half a gram of coke and a 10th of a gram of heroin. She would snort the cocaine and the heroin in front of me. It didn’t seem to matter to her who else was there.”

Occasionally, he says, he would even go to her apartment in the Ansonia building on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, and she would do drugs there. When he first saw her place, he got a shock: The walls of her apartment were covered with photos of dead bodies! “I assumed they were real bodies. They were like places or apartments where there were murders. I don’t know where someone would get pictures like that.”

But Meyer says the most bizarre thing about Angelina was that she was obsessed, even then, with adopting a child. “She would say to me, ‘I think I would really like to adopt a kid.’ I was shocked…. In the middle of the drugs and the knives, she’d be talking about wanting to adopt a child,” Franklin tells Life & Style.

Well, now.  Does that really surprise anyone?  That the former dark and brooding Angelina Jolie would have photographs of dead bodies plastered to her walls?  That she’d be into 8 balls?  The only things that really surprise me are the fact that this man has been allowed to live, or that Angelina doesn’t care about leaks from her past.  But hey.  I guess if you have the money that she does and are shacked up with Brad Pitt, nothing can really burst that bubble.

Willow Smith went to 106 & Park yesterday to debut her “Whip My Hair” video, and after the video aired, the VJs presented her with a plaque to commemorate the experience.

You guys, she cried. After she worked her way slowly through the words on the plaque (should a 10 year old be able to read the word “congratulations” with ease? I’m not sure), her eyes filled with tears of joy. Fuck it, mine did too. I support this little lady so hard

Another highlight of this clip? When asked what she’s going as for Halloween, Willow said she’s going to go out as herself and ask kids if they like Willow Smith. LOL. She crazy.

I came across these outtakes of the Glee cast’s GQ photoshoot and I was like, “Holy shit, they were allowed to do that?”

I’ll go all Sluts McGillicuddy the second someone whips out a digital camera, too, but I have never portrayed a teenage high school student on television. It makes me uncomfortable to see a famous actress posing as a high school student who just so happens to be standing in the hallway in her underwear. And the facial expression? It’s like, “Hey, I dropped my pencil, why don’t you come over here and bone the stuffing out of me?”

I almost can’t believe that Fox allowed these photos to get out there. For the first time in my life I understand why so many adults were upset by the “…Baby One More Time” video.

And I’d like to note that this post officially makes me weird, old and bitter.

Katy Perry and Russell Brand are getting hitched this weekend and the news is out today that the couple is not planning on signing a prenup. This is the most recent of many incredibly dumb decisions that the two have made, both as a individually and as a unit.

Russell told New York:

“Really, love between two people is the most spectacular and ordinary thing in the world.

“I want to make our wedding just about me and her loving each other and we’re getting married in front of our friends and family and keeping it normal.

“So it ain’t selling the pictures, ain’t doing no pre-nup. (But) it’s like a normal thing. It’s hard to make it normal because there’s this inflation of this toxic gas of celebrity billowing into it.”

A quick search tells me that Russell is worth about $5 million and Katy is worth closer to $15 million. I don’t know that I see Russell going all revenge-style, trying to snatch Katy’s pocketbook in the event of a divorce, but like… It kind of bums me out that Katy’s not protecting her (arguably) hard-earned money.

Sure, there’s something romantic about throwing caution to the wind and doing things the way they did them back before people were only living to be like, fifty years old, but there’s also something really dumb about it. I just doubt that a year-long romance between a twenty-something pop star who likes to party and a sober comedian ten years her senior is going to last. It’s not like they’re Khloe and Lamar or something (Khloe and Lamar will be together until death.)