Jesus Christ. Not even nine-thirty and there’s already too much Britney shit to fit in one post. Well, I’m doing it in anyway. Just try and stop me! First:

CelebTV has video of Spears — minus pants, of course — and new paparazzi BF Abu Ghraib sharing a lollipop “on the deck of a Southern California bungalow Saturday night,” along with additional video of them slobbering all over each other’s faces like a couple of lovesick teenagers. This is newsworthy because, according to the Daily Mail

Britney Spears’s new paparazzi boyfriend has been touting around intimate pictures taken of them together in recent days with a staggering [$1 million] price tag. It is not known whether Spears is aware that her new companion is trying to turn a profit on their relationship. She may even be in on the deal, in so doing making a profit for herself and also being able to control which pictures of her go out.

So the real question is, who decided Britney didn’t need to wear pants in these pictures? I’ve got my money on Pap Smear there. Word on the street is that he’s a regular smooth talker.

One friend described Adnan as “a typical Asian Brummie” who could “talk the hind legs off a donkey.”

“Hind legs off a donkey,” was it? What about “saddlebags off a breeding sow” or “stink off a retard?” That ought to pretty much cover the many nuances of Britney Spears. But curiously, Papiloma was nowhere to be found when Britney got a flat yesterday in L.A., probably because he was too busy selling those intimate pant-less pictures of her. People magazine says

Driving her white Mercedes and accompanied by her assistant, Spears popped a tire in Brentwood after visiting a drug store. With the paparazzi on her tail, she continued to drive with the flat a few miles down the road without her lights on. Spears was given a ride away from the scene – not by the police, but by photographers who had been trailing her.

Where’s a busted “bridge out” sign and a 90-foot cliff when you really need one? A fiery explosion that culminates with Britney Spears trapped in a German coffin at the bottom of the Pacific is really the only way to end this post properly. Otherwise, it’s all exposition and no resolution. Kinda like watching “Magnolia” without punching yourself in the face at the end.

More of Brit and her “flat tires,” plus some of knocked up sister Jamie cradling a GED course book. Cue the banjo music!

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