Victoria Beckham has found a brand-new activity besides smiling. Add to her to-do list: eating! Oh, Posh, we hardly knew curvy thee. Also, Paris Hilton's under attack for owning too many critters. And more unbelievable than all those dogs still breathing is that Britney has managed to stay alive this long. Is her big bro, Bryan, helping her recovery—or pushing her back to her bizarre behavior?
Victoria Beckham

AP Photo/Peter Kramer

Before we get to (more) perfectly ridiculous Brit Spears and Paris Hilton poop, in more ways than one, 'fraid I have some truly heinous news to report: Posh Spice, or Beckham, or Starvation, or whatever the hell her name is, actually looks good these days. How the ef she’s managed that one, I’d like to know.

A trusty member of Desk InWhySee (one of the ones who doesn’t imbibe to raging hangover status) just rang us up. Desk I was truly bamboozled, and not by the overpriced booze she was sipping, either: “She doesn’t look scary-skinny size 0 anymore,” DIWS reported back on Victoria and David Beckham, who were dining in a private room at Per Se, at Columbus Circle. “She was wearing off-white—she was all sparkly. And him,” Desk IWS, a normally contained, quite attractive member of the heavier duty East Coast power circles, breathlessly relayed. “He stared at me and totally checked out my boobs. I was Jell-O.”

David Beckham, Victoria Beckham

Rogers and Cowan

No wonder this stud-dude’s had probs in the past being accused of not exactly remaining faithful to that stick-thin wife of his. All he has to do is cast one lecherous glance at some gal—and she’s all his. Mind you, D.B. did not request a hot time with the lusting looker and sparkled spouse back in the cordoned-off eating area. There was far too much commotion for that nonsense.

The Beckham security detail practically bomb-sniffed the place upon entering and exiting. Would hardly make for sexy entering and exiting of any other variety, we’re sure.

Congrats on eating, Posh-love! Hear it looks so good on ya, keep it up, g-f!

Paris Hilton Christmas card


Pare-poo Hilton is under investigation for letting it slip to Ellen D that she’s the owner of no less than 17 pooches—about as many people who saw The Hottie and the Nottie. But all of Princess P’s problemos aren’t entirely canine related. Back in '07, Paris was kitten-smitten with a feisty little feline she affectionately named—what else?—Prada. What, you were expecting P.H. to name any pet of hers Old Navy or American Eagle? Girl’s too snotty-class for any of that. The mouth-talented heiress collected the cat from the Kris Kelly Foundation and was told to neuter the kitty ASAP. Too bad for Prada, since Pare picked up the pussy about a week before she was sent to spend some tucked-away time in Lynwood. “Immediately” became “eight months later” in Standard Paris Time, as pretty Prada was properly handed over to the vet this past January.  

Oh, merde. The cute kitty was finally fixed...but was never picked up, as you may well have heard. (Kelly ended up with the full-circle honors.) Poor Prada’s still meowing away the minutes for her owner to pull out her pink extensions and put herself together as the responsible animal advocate she always claims she is.

Prada’s predicament ain’t nothing compared to that of Pare’s pups, trust. How much love can one split between 17 dogs? I admit I’m impressed how P-Hil manages to volley back and forth between lovers without anyone feeling left out in the cold. But as far as the animal kingdom goes, she needs to take a few steps back and see if she can support a simple goldfish. She simply has not had an at-all perfect track record with pooches in the past. Care to fess up now, Ms. H? No, shall we do it for you?

Hey, we hear pet rocks don’t require too much work. Tho' with Pare-poo’s luck, poor thing would up and turn to dust in about a week.

Britney Spears

Usurping Kevin Federline from the Father of the Year throne, Jamie Spears is keeping a pretty tight leash on his baby Brit, and Starbucks’ stock options aren’t the only things feeling strained. Papa Spears has finally added a bod-guard to Britney’s entourage, who more than fills the void for an MIA Sam Lutfi. (We’re so calling a mob hit on this shady schmuck.)

Britney’s big bro, Bryan, also wants a piece of the sweet conservatorship pie—he already acted as her manager back in the K-Fed day, and he obvs still thinks he’s got the brains, not to mention the stamina, to handle the bigger mess of his younger female sibs. No surprise that Brit-Brit has been pouting like a spoiled little princess all week—what kind of woman would want Big Brother bossing them around? Next thing you know, Bryan will force Brit to be his slave for a week.
B-babe is going through withdrawal from her busy gas-station bathroom breaks and gonzo drives around Hell-Ay, and she’s determined to dive back into the driver’s seat, daddy be damned. She met with attorney-of-the-month Jon Eardley last week, who filed a complaint to the U.S. District Court on behalf of Britters, calling the whole conservatorship crap a "violation of civil rights." This is clearly what Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks toiled for all those years—so that a deranged pop diva could freely get behind the wheel of her own car and wreak havoc on her neighborhood.
Britney Spears, Adnan Ghalib

Fame Pictures, Inc

Jamie needs to keep some serious tabs on his little daring darling, even if it comes to slipping under her bed and snooping in her diary. “Dear Diary, me and Adnan are totes in love! He’s the only one who really gets me and treats me good, 'specially when I put us up in fancy motel-type places and let him take happy snaps of me while I’m redying my hair in the buff. I don’t got no daddy issues!” Then again, do incorporated toddlers keep diaries? It's prolly just crayon scribbles on construction paper.
I’d like to put my faith in the girl, but Britney's responsibility track record is absolutely busted by now. Not only did she get her kid visitation rights yanked away again, she was a no-show last week at her home-away-from-Starbucks, the Millennium Dance Complex—pity, since she just started to shape up and get back in shape, along with teaching some kiddie dance classes. A line of SUVs was parked outside the studio, filled with bored bulky paps with nothing to do but eat junk food and wait for Brit to show her cold-sored face. Even Britney’s BFFs are beyond bored with dealing with her behavior. Join the club, fellas.  
Not just the photogs were disappointed by the poptard’s absence. Two small girls and their mother wandered around the facility, trying to sniff out Spears' scent, and eventually exited looking all sorts of forlorn. Now these preteens will never be taught how to striptease and shimmy like a pro. Guess they’ll have to learn on their own.
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