PETA is hiring for a receptionist and for some odd reason they think Britney Spears is the person for it. The letter to Britney from PETA president Ingrid Newkirk reads:
“After seeing your excellent performance on How I Met Your Mother, PETA would like to offer you a real job as a receptionist. It could be for as little as an hour, and you would see — from the inside — why we are so concerned about issues like fur and homeless dogs and cats. As a ‘thank you’ for your willingness to learn and help, we would donate $1,000 to a children’s charity.”
OK first of all even if she needs the $10 an hour (which, lets face it, she probably does), she wouldn’t take the job because Britney loves her some fur. She just gleefully received $30,000 worth of it for her birthday.
Second, she buys pet-store dogs about as often as she buys Frappuccinos. I don’t get why those media whores suddenly want to capitalize on Britney’s comeback after they’ve criticized her on numerous occasions. Oh wait, I totally do.
Ever since that mean ol’ Beatle stiffed her out of her hard-earned cash, leaving her without nearly enough money to raise their daughter Beatrice, Mills has been looking for someplace, anyplace to keep the rain off their poor little heads. With nowhere else to turn, this plucky single mother has been searching in the poverty-stricken One Jackson Square complex in Greenwich Village. Truly a grim flophouse, a last resort for the desperate and downtrodden.
Here’s a look at one such hovel, if you can bear to gaze upon such squalor:
Can you imagine trying to raise a child in such a place?
Seriously, though, just look at those hardwood floors. I’d hate to live in the apartment downstairs. Day and night: “…step CLOMP step CLOMP step CLOMP…”
P.S. She can’t even afford a decent disguise!
The many of you who come to Deceiver via Perez Hilton probably already know that he of the Technicolor Dream Hair and John Mayer hooked up in NYC recently.
For the rest of you, as a courtesy I waited until after lunch on the East Coast to post this so you wouldn’t lose your appetite.
As Perez noted, Mayer’s rep didn’t bother to deny the story because it’s true.
Which leads me to remind you all about John Mayer’s fear that his future wife will want nothing to do with him because of all the supposedly-untrue gossip she will have presumably read about him in the tabloids:
“My fear,” he says, “is that I go up to the girl of my dreams and say, ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve got to say hello to you,’ and she slides the stool back and gets up and walks away, saying, ‘Not for me, Bub. I don’t want anything to do with you.’ And she says that because of something in my past. I mean, I know how to be a celebrity. I know how to be a guy on the street. I know how to roll with the punches. I know how to do the whole thing. And my past is actually pretty sterling. But when I think about my wife, I worry. I worry about what she thinks when she reads about me in US Weekly. It’s all vapor, nothing, ether. But I worry about it. I worry about what she thinks.”
I think it’s safe to say that the girl of his dreams is preemptively running for the hills. C’mon, this bit of news tops anything that was ever written about him and Jessica Simpson, right?
Digg this