Meanwhile, back at the gossip mill

I now have a personal referent for the phrase "horrified fascination". It's the inability to stop watching this unfold.

The latest developments:

Haha, I'm partying with Paris and you're not.

Boo hoo. Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I'm gonna go eat worms. (Noises off: "Yes, you're right, we all hate you, just STFU.") Also: Im sorry, I luv u, pls tk me bak...

No way. What do I need you for? I'm so important I can show everybody my crotch. Repeatedly. And I'm gonna have a big important show in Las Vegas. And I'm gonna go there for New Year's and be the star of a big party in the club where you recorded your last flop, and you're so not invited. AND I'm gonna be the hostess of the Billboard awards with Paris. NYAH NYAH!

(However: inferred but not yet confirmed -- Britney gets wind of something that Paris has supposedly said about her. And immediately thereafter:)

And I thought you were my friend! So I'm not doing the Billboards, and you can just stand there and be host all by yourself and everybody'll know why, you traitor. Take that!

(headclutch) Dear Goddess, it's like watching a train wreck. It just keeps... on... going... It can't get worse than this, really it can't.

(waits in a resigned manner for the world to prove her wrong)

Happy-making things at Design*Sponge

The coasters. The crockery (don't miss the mushroom shelves). And the cards. (Beware, a bit naughty at the language end....)