I feel good about this already.
Britney Spears doesn’t know what day of the week it is, but she is under a conservatorship for being crazy, so that’s enough to come up with a story about her trying to help Amanda Bynes which I’m going to repeat for the sole purpose of making dick jokes. As for how I’m not teaching journalism at the university, I ask myself that everyday. TheFIX via Amy Grindhouse:
“Britney had a brief conversation with Amanda the week before her arrest and promised to personally help Amanda get her career back on track by helping her record music,” says the source.
“Britney also opened up to Amanda about her painful breakdown and about how she was so against her dad taking out a conservatorship – but she told Amanda that it wound up being a life, career and fortune saver.”
I was going to write a joke down here about Britney Spears explaining the Happy Meal Reward System and how it helped her stopped using her kids as floatation devices in the pool, but why do that when I can simply copy and paste Amanda Bynes’ latest tweets? It’s like having free, piping-hot punchlines delivered right to your door!
My lawyer is getting my case dropped! There was no proof of sexual harassment or drugs. Instead of me asking for the cop to be arrested for sexual harassment, I want my case dropped as well. His punishment will be being the cop who sexually harassed someone who would never find him handsome enough to be my boyfriend. That’s worse than any time in jail. But I am suing him for money compensation. I love having more money in my bank!
Detective Frank Jakowski never did a bad thing until that night. “Trust me,” his partner told him, “these Hollywood types love it when you smack ‘em in the goochbox.” With a divorce hanging over his head and two kids who needed braces, what did he have to lose? It’s not like the crazy broad would announce the rejection to millions of people. A soft knuckle to the mound, he told himself, just a soft knuckle.
Then things went pear-shaped.
Maybe it was the wig, or the marijuana she blew in his face, but what should’ve been a soft knuckle suddenly became an open palm straight to the clit. There was no turning back now. “Be my girlfriend!” he blurted out.
“Cowboy Curtis is blue, but never purple. Purple is quintessential Nazir,” she shot back, flinging icy arrows straight to his heart.
They’d find his body hanging from the precinct garage, just another flat-foot who tried to walk… The Love Beat.