According to Us Weekly, Britney Spears passed her first ever drug test yesterday. Well, technically, it should have been her third or fourth drug test, but this is the first one she’s bothered to show up to take. Can you smell the responsibility? Can you? Luckily, the NY Daily News manages to eliminate the stink of moral obligation and filial duty:

OK! magazine has a highly detailed story of [Britney] partying at Peninsula Hotel just hours after having her children taken away. She supposedly was nonplussed about Kevin Federline getting child custody. A source claims that “when the subject of her boys’ custody came up, one of the girls told Britney, “Don’t worry, you’ll get your kids back.’ Britney replied: ‘I don’t give a [shit] anymore. I never wanted them in the first place.’” She allegedly partied until 3 a.m. the night before she had a 10 a.m. visitation from her children, which she missed.

And with a mansion in Beverly Hills, what’s she doing in hotels anyway? Star mag claims that’s where she met her drug dealer, whom it identifies as a petite brunette.

Plus, I hear they have a lot of buffets in hotels. Also vending machines full of M&Ms and Funions. Ooh, and strangers you can possibly videotape yourself fucking. Did I mention the buffets? And the penises? Penises aplenty in your average hotel. Penises and all-you-can-eat brunches and a minimum-wage housekeeper to quash that feeling of self-loathing you get when you have to unclog your own toilet for the third time in one day. I think the real question is why wouldn’t she be there?

More of Britney showing her grainy LQ NSFW beaver yesterday after the jump

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More nudity today from the set of Sienna Miller’s new movie “Hippy Hippy Shake” — only this time, you get the kitty, too. Good stuff, but my concern here is the density and shape of her pubic hair. It’s all wrong for the era. Really, if you’re going to go to the trouble of wearing a hippie wig and beaded dream catchers and crap, you should make sure your bush hasn’t been shorn and groomed within an inch of its life. It should look like Demi Moore circa 1974. Or like you’ve got a yak in a headlock. And to think, those Hollywood bastards tried to tell me “pubic hair expert” wasn’t a real job. Well, I sure showed them, didn’t I? Any good PBE will tell you continuity is the name of the game.