Brit Keeps Toys Ready for the Boys

The following italicized article is taken from www.tmz.com:

Even though Britney Spears was just denied in her bid to get some form of visitation with her sons, as TMZ reported yesterday, she's still hanging on to hope, no matter how slender it might be.

"[Brit] hasn't put the children's belongings away," says "an insider" to Us. "She desperately wants the kids. She cries about it." Apparently, K-Fed and even Brit's parents won't let the momwreck talk to the kids on the phone.

As for J.J. and Sean, it seems that the K-Daddy, their grandparents, and nanny don't talk to them about Mama Brit. "They don't want to get them riled up. They just keep them focused on activities."

Source: TMZ

The Tragedy Of Britney Spears

The following italicized article is taken from www.rollingstone.com:

A pop star at the mall is an eternal cause for happiness, especially on a Sunday afternoon in the Valley. One moment, shoppers in the Westfield Topanga mall are living in the real world, monotonously selecting a new shade of eye shadow or rubbing perfume on wrists, but upon the rapture of Britney Spears, they are giggling, laughing, orgasmic, already sharing their secret on cell phones. "Her legs are actually really skinny," an adolescent whispers into her Sidekick, as Britney beelines for the Betsey Johnson boutique, pseudo-punk designer of evening dresses and splashy heels worn to suburban high school proms. In person, Britney is shockingly beautiful — clear skin, ruby lips, a perfectly proportioned twenty-six-year-old porcelain doll with a nasty weave. She cuts through the crowd swiftly, the way she used to when 20,000 adoring fans mobbed her outside a concert, with her paparazzi boyfriend, Adnan Ghalib, trailing behind.

Only a few kids are in the store, a young girl with her brother and two blondes checking out fake-gold charm bracelets. Britney rifles the racks as the Cure's "Pictures of You" blasts into the airless pink boutique, grabbing a pink lace dress, a few tight black numbers and a frilly red crop top, the kind of shirt that Britney used to wear all the time at seventeen but isn't really appropriate for anyone over that age. Then she ducks into the dressing room with Ghalib. He emerges with her black Am Ex.

The card won't go through, but they keep trying it.

"Please," begs Ghalib, "get this done quickly."

One of the girls runs to Britney's dressing room, explaining the situation through a pink gauze curtain.

A wail emerges from the cubby — guttural, vile, the kind of base animalistic shriek only heard at a family member's deathbed. "Fuck these bitches," screams Britney, each word ringing out between sobs. "These idiots can't do anything right!"

Ghalib dashes over to console her, but she's already spitting, growling, throwing a big bottle of soda on the floor so that it begins to spill underneath the curtain, and then she's got a box of tissues and is throwing them on top of the wet floor along with piles of discarded merchandise. A new card finally goes through, but by then Britney is out the door, leaving her shirt on the ground and replacing it with the red top. "Fuck you, fuck people, fuck, fuck, fuck," she keeps screaming, her face splotchy and red as she crosses the interminable mall floor, the crowd behind her growing larger and larger. "Leave us alone!" yells Ghalib.

The siblings run after Britney to get a video to put up on YouTube, and some of the shopgirls run after her to hand off the merchandise she left behind, and there's an entire bridal party wearing yellow T-shirts who have pulled out camera phones too. A crush of managers in black shirts and gold name tags try to keep the peace, but the crowd running after Britney gets larger, and now the shopgirls have ­started to catch up to her, one of them slipping spectacularly in her platform shoes, grazing her elbow. She pulls herself up, mustering the strength to tap Britney's shoulder. "Um, I'm from the South too," she mumbles, "and I was wondering if I could get a picture with you for my little sister."

Britney turns to Ghalib and grabs his arm. "I don't want her talking to me!" she screams. She whirls around and stares the girl deep in the eyes, her lips almost vibrating with anger. "I don't know who you think I am, bitch," she snarls, "but I'm not that person."

Source: Rolling Stone

Restraining Order: Sam Lutfi Drugged Britney Spears

The following italicized articles is from www.usmagazine.com:

The L.A. Superior Court has released an 11-page restraining order against Britney Spears' pal Sam Lutfi.

He must stay 250 yards away from the singer and the UCLA Medical Center, as well as the homes of her parents, her siblings, her children and the singer's residences.

The document reads:

• “Britney met Lutfi in or about October 2007. Mr. Lutfi has essentially moved into Britney’s home and has purported to take control of her life, home and finances."

• “Mr. Lufti drugged Britney."

• "He has cut Britney's home phone line and removed her cell phone chargers."

• "He yells at her."

• "He claims to control everything — Britney’s business manger, her attorneys and the security guards at the gate."

• “Immediate relief is necessary to avoid the risk of physical harm to Britney by Mr. Lutfi and to allow her to undergo necessary medical treatment without interference by Mr. Lutfi."

According to the document, the restraining order against Lutfi was filed February 1 by James P. Spears.

Lutfi is described as a 170 lbs., 5’7", Middle Eastern man, age 33.

The hearing date for the restraining order is set for February 22.

More to come!

Source: US Weekly