Happy Monday, Pop Tarts.

We are pleased to report that Ms. Britney Spears has managed to pull her head out of her hick ass long enough to file papers against that opportunistic waste of oxygen to which she's currently legally bound. We lost a fiver on that, too, convinced she would hang with that saggy-drawered whigger, popping out his genetically-inferior spawn until her uterus crawled out of her body and bought a bus ticket to Wetumpka. But we are pleased to be proven wrong...and also happy to see she appears to be capable of putting down the Cheetos.

We are not watching Salma Hayek's show Ugly Betty (and frankly, nothing you can tell us will make that happen), but as long as there are people out there making screen caps like this, we will be happy, secure in the knowledge that her glorious cleavage will not go un-ogled. Glorious though it is, it still does not match the Vampire Queen bikini from the From Dusk Til Dawn flick. And nothing ever will. *pant*

We've sung the praises of Ms. Anne Hathaway in this space before, but it doesn't hurt to remind the Tart Patrol of Hollyweird that this young lady has you beat all to hell. She's stylish, poised, gracious, and best of all, she's freaking CIRCUMSPECT. She may be the biggest hoor in 97 counties (including Marin), but you'd never know it. Ms. Lohan, both Ms. Hiltons, and all the other members of the U.S National Bagina Spelunking Team need to take frigging note, because if we see just one more of their eye-bag having, lipgloss-smeared, stale jizz-dripping arses splashed across our Yahoo News page first thing in the morning, we will have to kill everyone in West Hollywood and burn it to the ground.

Speaking of West Hollywood, it has become the hobby of certain self-proclaimed "journalists" to pick a closeted (or at least privacy-valuing) male actor and basically hound them daily on their "publication," with pleas to "come out and help the team." We would like to express our extraordinary disgust with this stupidity, and point out to the "journalist" that if he is defined by who he fucks, then his is a sorry existence indeed. Furthermore, if he thinks this is some sort of competition, then we're thinking the ones who have the capacity to procreate are going to win. That said, despite his poster-boy metrosexualness, we did not automatically assume Doogie Howser was teh ghey, nor do we care. It does not diminish our enjoyment of his masterful portrayal of The Original Pussy Hound, Barney (Swarley), on the very funny (you should totally be watching it) How I Met Your Mother. And we do love the aplomb with which he took the wind out of the "journalist's" sails, basically saying, "Yes, gay, very happy...and??" Jerks.

That's enough heavy lifting for this week, poppets. We'll see you next Monday.

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