Brit Sure Knows How To Pick 'Em

If you're a single woman out on the prowl for Mr. Right, I think Britney Spears would be a fantastic person to take along on your man-hunts. It would be such a great way to weed out the losers and supremely revolting specimens. You could be assured that any man she would approve of is not worth a second glance.

Let's look at the obvious - current hubby, K-Fed. We all know he's nothing but a white-trash sperm bank. I guess that would make him a sperm trailer. So, ok fine. Let him laze around Britney's house all day in his wife beater, waiting for her to ovulate. She doesn't seem to mind, so why should I? I don't. But why couldn't he just be happy riding the gravy train? Why did he have to inflict his "music" on us all?

I know I shouldn't have, especially after seeing those online clips of him in the recording studio, but I stopped flipping through the dial the other night when I saw that he was going to be performing on the Teen Choice Awards. I do have a limit, so I only got through about 30 seconds of it. Why did I even stop to begin with? What was I expecting? I should know not to even expect comic relief from that numbskull. I guess it was the old car wreck theory. You can't look away...until you see a real casualty. That's K-Fed. The bloody, mangled corpse on the freeway of funk. But it's his own fault, really. He had no business being out there on that road. I think even Vanilla Ice would agree with me on this one.

Then we have Brit's former flame, Justin Timberlake. I actually used to kind of like Justin. I enjoyed the occasional 'N Sync tune, and I liked the song where he rocked Janet's booby, er, body. He used to be a bit goofy, which I found endearing. I don't know what happened to him, but suddenly he's a gigantic tool. He's been trying waaaay too hard to shed the former teen idol image. Oooooh, he's done drugs. Oooooh, he's wearing skull caps. Ooooh, he drops some F-bombs in his new song. Ooooh, he's dating Cameron Diaz. Yeah, come on, you know it takes one hell of a tough man to put up with her.

He says he's bringing Sexy back. Evidently, Justin's idea of Sexy is a song that's more monotonous than 50 Cent's "In Da Club," if such a thing is even possible. I have news for you, T-Lake. Sexy never went away. Even if it did, I don't think you're qualified to bring it back. And, Justin, you are NOT Prince. The Purple One is out there working up a black sweat and you just have plain old white B.O.

And when lyrical vomit isn't coming out of his mouth, he's talking himself into a giant hole. He recently trashed American Idol winner, Taylor Hicks, saying, "he can't carry a tune in a bucket." He continued, "I have a strange relationship with that show...I despise it, and yet I'm completely fascinated." Awwwww, look. Isn't that cute? Justin is trying to jump on the "legitmate artist" bandwagon by decrying AI. Somehow, the idea of someone like Justin - an overhyped, image-conscious, Mickey Mouse-loving product of Boy Band Industries, Inc. - belittling a show like American Idol does not compute. Maybe he's still pissed that he never won the big prize on Star Search as a kid. Maybe he has a bad association with Taylor Hicks. Maybe Taylor's gray head of hair reminds him of Ed McMahon. Who knows.

I just wish that Britney's boys could be more like her first husband, Jason Alexander. He had his 15 minutes of fame as Brit's boy-toy and is now content to live out of the spotlight, only popping up as an occasional punch line or an answer to a Trivial Pursuit question. She should've hung on to him.