Britney Spears made a drunken call to K-Fed at 1 a.m. on Sunday desperately wanting him to party with her on her 26th birthday, but K-Fed, being the responsible parent, declined. How did he resist? Was it his love for his children or was it the underwhelming desire to make out with what can best be described as a greasy, cake-crusted ashtray?
“She got annoyed when Kevin reminded her that one of them needed to be a parent and take care of the boys,” added the insider. “Then she hung up on him. Kevin said she was drinking.”
K-Fed the responsible parent. These words still haunt me to this day. Never have so few words sent shivers down my spine. It’s an affront to nature is what it is. Such as if Britney started eating carrots and celery for lunch instead of a #1, #5 and #7, no, make that a #8 with a shake or if the next woman I bed isn’t a supermodel and didn’t scream out in ecstasy every 30 seconds. One’s mind simply cannot fathom these ridiculous tales.