Britney and Kevin: Chaotic
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Lifestyles of the Brit And Anus

Upcoming shots with BritBrit asking about sexual positions. Song. BritBrit digitally drones, "Let's get craz-eh!" Let's not. Commercials.

Back. A bunch of swiped footage from Real World London. Driving. BritBrit films her driver Mike. He says don't ask me anything about sex. "I'm not all about sex, y'all," BritBrit says. Much laughing, and BritBrit turns the camera on herself to talk to Mike, because if there isn't a camera on her it's not really happening; she says that she can't believe Mike just said what he said bleh blee bloo. BritBrit goes on to say that there is a cute guy on the tour for Fee and he's "supposably" a really good guy and his name is "Magill." Fee laughs and corrects her. It's "Miguel." Jesus, what a cockslap she is. Britney then, just looking at herself in the monitor, says, "We're going to try to hook the shizmalls and she can get some smashels going on in the hizzee," and then forgets what nonsense she was saying and lifts her lip up and makes a face into the camera. Jesus, she's four. But, like, a really dumb four.

Boobney babbles about how a woman should let herself go occasionally and be her "hot mama self." Britney knows a lot about letting herself go, lately.

Back in London. BritBrit is totally interrupting Felicia's phone call by babbling, "Felicia and Magill. Felicia and Magill." BritBrit goes on to talk about how Fee is sweet but sometimes a person needs to get a bug in their ear to open them up to a new horizon. Or something. I'm so fucking tired just trying to figure out what she's saying. I feel like a UN interpreter, only for the dumb. BritBrit tells Fee that she needs to get laid because sometimes she gets on all of their nerves. Now people are laughing and it's sort of funny; Britney can be charming in a silly way, occasionally. But I imagine living with that 24/7 would make you want to jump off a bridge, or ingest something Toxic. Felicia is embarrassed. Others are laughing.

London. Some arena. BritBrit gets make-up done backstage, warming up her voice. Why? It's not like she's going to sing anything tonight. Girl needs a bra. She sings. Asian make-up guy wants to stab her in the eye with the mascara brush. BritBrit gets into the elevator on the way to the stage. She annoys everyone with her camera and her singing. The crowd is cheering. BritBrit tells us that they're all there for her. Good for you. Remember that because in a year or two, it's over. Good thing you're taping this. Boobney tells us that the audiences overseas are crazy and more uninhibited. Yes: they have terrible taste. Have you ever listened to Robbie Williams or Kylie Minogue? Seriously. Or French pop music, god forbid? It's heinous. No wonder they like your ass-y, atonal, overproduced shit. Boobney talks about enjoying performing as we see her "singing" "Slave," replete with uber-stiff high school choreography. Jazz-hands-a-palooza!

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Britney and Kevin: Chaotic

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