BABY FEDERLINE

SMOOTHIE THIS, GRANDPA

2005-09-20T18:50:00.000-07:00

I got nothing against Britney's dad. The old man's a little wack, but hey, who ain't? I'm just a few days outta the woomb and I'm still a little freaky-deek. Besides, Gramps had to raise Britney, and that would be enough to make any man a little batcrap.

But what the hell's this noise about naming a freaking smoothie after me?

Queen B's dad runs JJ Chill, and his biz partner (some homeslice calling himself Joseph Nejman) says the drink is "in honor" of Sean Preston Federline, otherwise known as Me. Only he's calling it the Preston Smoothie, which sounds like a well-groomed gay man. And that sure as hell ain't me, 'cause I'm still naked, y'all.

The worst part is what the smoothie's made outta -- fat-free frozen yogurt, strawberries and mangoes. Mangoes? Who the hell got it in their pinhead that mangoes would be something I'd like? What crackhead said to himself, "Yeah yeah yeah, the little kid reminds me of mangoes."

Whoever it was, bring them to me and I'll show 'em how well I can urinate. I gots the aim, baby.

CALL ME PRESTON, I KICK YOUR ASS

2005-09-16T18:05:00.000-07:00

OK, so when the doc cuts through Mama's belly and into my crib, first thing I want to do is kick some ass. Here's Mom all 'fraidy freaky 'cause she don't like pain, so she pre-plans a C-section and makes sure everyone knows but me.

Christ on a crutch, what's a baby gotta do to get some lovin' here?

So the peeps reach in and grabs me, like I'm a bundle of loot and this is a robbery. Sure sure, the docs be wearing masks, so at first I think it is a robbery, but then I realize Mama got her legs spread, so maybe it's a costume orgy. You know, I'm just saying ...

But all turned out well, considering. Lots more room out here. Womb was getting snug. I coulda been seven whole pounds if the Queen B woulda let me gestate for a few more days. Damn, just when I was pimpin' free in the crib, Mama's gotta spoil the fun. I mean, I love her and all, but damn. Just damn. All this bright light be bothering my sensitive eyes.

So is the name. Sean Preston Federline ain't exactly the boldest of names, you know what I'm saying? Sounds a little faggy to me, but I'll take it, long as you don't call me Preston. Comes to that, I'm doing the beatdown on someone's skull.

And this goes out to all y'all: Quit your goddamned cooing. I ain't no bird, though I'm gonna peck the living hell outta the next person who comes by and starts with the "ooooh, isn't he precious? Coo, coo, gaga goo-goo." Enough to make a baby wanna scream, so I been doing a lot of that.

But damn, I am good looking. Fulla head of curly hair and hung like a 10-year-old. Damn, I know that ain't on account of the Sperminator -- oops, I mean Daddy. The folks were getting it on a lot while I was kicking back, and I didn't have any knocks on my door, if you know what I'm saying.

Best part of being out here? I know the taste of the teat, and lemme tell you, brother, it's tight and sweet. Just think about me sucking on Brit's right nipple. Picture it. Savor it. Be freaking jealous all you want, 'cause I'm the only one doing the deed right now -- and it's mighty fine.

Speaking of nice racks, Ashanti bopped by with some greetings. Wonder if I could convince Mom that she's all dried up and Ashanti needs to let me suckle her.

Carmen Electra also stopped by, but no way am I sucking her tit. A baby's got some pride.

I HAVE ARRIVED

2005-09-14T21:21:00.000-07:00

Hot damn, but ain't life good now that I'm a fully functioning baby.

Watch out, world. Watch out, Mr. Sperm Donor. I have just begun to blog.

'PRESTON,' MY ASS

2005-08-22T18:39:00.000-07:00

How's it hanging, my peeps? Sorry it's been a while since we last yapped, but this gestating gig is taking up all my time, you know what I'm saying? People think it's all good, kicking back in the womb and slurping up the nutrients from Mama. But I'm here to tell you -- ain't so.

And now I got a bad case of indigestion and I ain't even eaten any solids yet. You know things are bad when you get acid reflux in the womb.

Damn.

All on account of Mama and her Sperminator think "Preston" is a good name for me.

What sorta wack name is "Preston," anyway? Sounds like some sorta fancy boy -- like that brat boy belonging to Judge John Roberts. Jesus, but that boy needs a swift smack on his asscheeks. Maybe two.

He's the one they ought to name "Preston." Fits that seersucker suit with the short pants. Only a Preston would wear a gay-ass outfit like that.

Now all the tabloids are yapping about Preston and how Britney and Sperm Boy are all excited about the impending birth of ME. Well, no doubt about that one. Who wouldn't be excited to bring ME into the world?

Sez Mama: "The only thing I haven't done so far is experience the closest thing to God and that's have a baby. I can't wait!"

Yeah, well honey, cross them legs and wait just a minute. You and me got some talking to do. Not only about the name (me, I prefer "Ben Jammin'" or maybe "John Stone" for a first and middle name).

Me and Mama also got to rap about my future. She and the Seed Man say they don't have any plans for me to get into show biz. Mama says, "We think a child can go to school, go to college, and when they're old enough to make their own decision, they can."

Hey Brit, shut that yapper and listen for a minute. I'm the one gonna be deciding about school (and college, since they're the same damned thing). I'm the one who'll decide about show business. I'm already old enough to make my own decision, and I've decided a couple things:

•Preston ain't gonna cut it.

•Neither is this noise about a birthing pool filled with 1,000 one-liter bottles of specially blessed Kabbalah water.

First of all, Mama, you ain't into the Kabbalah thing. Second, I ain't splashing down in a tub full of water that Madonna thinks is special.

Man, am I gonna have to raise these parents by myself?

READY TO BITCH SLAP

2005-08-09T06:57:00.000-07:00

Soon as I'm expelled from Queen B's womb, I'm doing some ass kicking. And Christina Aguilera's skanky cheeks be the first place I start hitting.

Damn. Just damn. Mama's former bestest friend, now talking smack about Brit's body.

Christina says, "She's let herself go. I can't see a comeback on the cards."

Damn. Words like that, they sting so bad they make Mama feel like she burning inside. Kinda like what happened after she ate one-a them Taco Bell grilled stuffed things. Only worse.

Christina says Mama can't never be no star again 'cause she got all fat with me. Which means that Aguilera ho be blaming ME for Brit looking bad.

That's it. The fake blonde skank is going down, and I don't mean on Busta Rhymes. When I'm through with her she'll be lucky to sing backup for Bobby Brown.

ADOPT MY ASS

2005-07-29T05:56:00.000-07:00

I'm flipping through the paper the other day -- OK, fine, it was a wireless connection and I was using my laptop -- when I ran across this little piece that said Mama wasn't planning on having any more kids.

Yay! Happy damned days, you bet. First there was this noise that Queen B was carrying twins, enough to make me get all freaky. I checked around the womb, didn't find any stowaways, put away the knife.

But now Brit says she ain't happy carrying all the extra weight. Makes her sad. Makes her blue.

Makes her want to adopt the next one, according to the papers.

WTF? Adopt?

Brit's all like, "We should help poor children by adopting one." Sperm Donor Man is all like, "We can still do it wit' you on ya hands and knees, right?" And Brit's all like, "Yeah, baby, that's what I'm talking about." And I'm like, "Jesus, will you two dim bulbs just close your pieholes?"

Can't stand stupid people. Gotta get outta this shallow gene pool.

Once I bust loose and dazzle the world with my beauty, grace, charm and intelligence, I'm gonna make sure Mom stays away from other babies. She can't be trusted to make the right, tight choice when it comes to ME. And dammit, that's all that counts in the world. That, and getting the new Liz Phair CD this fall. Mom don't like her and says she can't sing. I think Mom's just pissed 'cause the Sperminator says he'd do Liz. Who can blame him?

NO WONDER IT'S CROWDED IN HERE

2005-07-07T13:14:00.000-07:00

Christ Almighty. For months I've been cooped up in this dark, fetid place, forced to listen to Mom and Mr. Stoopid (aka the sperm donor who knocked up Queen B) through the thin walls. Feels like a New York walk-up, even though I can't see any gang scrawls on the walls (I'm not saying they're not there; I just can't see 'em).

But now some people say Mama might be packing ... TWINS.

Jesus, Joseph & Mary. This explains everything. No wonder I can't turn around in here. No kicking back in Brit's womb, baby -- she's tight. Or so I assumed.

I'm telling you, if there's another fetus in here, I'm pulling a chimera and eating that bastard. Might be a little later than most chimerics, but a girl can try, can't she?

BRIT, BRIT, BRIT

2005-06-04T08:23:00.000-07:00

I know the lady carrying The Precious Bun in her oven ain't the sharpest tool, 'cause I get to listen to her talk to her friends all day long, all night long. When she's not listening to her own music and saying stuff like, "Y'all, I cannot believe how good this music is!"

Mama's just a little fulla herself, you know what I'm saying? Not much room in here 'cause her ego is all up in my grill.

No worries about her brain getting too big for her britches. One thing I know about the Queen B -- she ain't ever gonna have to worry about big-ass wrinkles, 'cause to get those you gotta be a thinker, you got to fret about stuff. Ain't happening with Brit, honey. She has trouble jumping to a conclusion.

Like the other night, when Mr. Sperm Donor (yeah, yeah, it's Mama's husband for now) said he was all hungry and wanted to know what Britney wanted to eat, and she said "I don't know" and he's all "just make up your mind" so she got some lipstick and put it on her head, and then Spermy told her to come on and get in the car, but get a sweater 'cause it's chilly outside, so Brit runs in the kitchen and gets a spoon and a bowl and she's all, "I love chili, y'all!"

Do you know how much it sucks to be a fetus and already have a higher IQ than your mama? Pop me outta this womb before I catch a case of the dumbness.

GIVE IT UP, MOM

2005-06-01T18:51:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm growing and expanding Queen B's belly -- bacon strips ahead for a stomach, Brit! -- I'm feeling my oats, getting used to kickin' it in this womb. And leave it to me to tell Mama the unvarnished truth: Her TV show sucks.

Every day I gotta hear about it. Lucky you only get to watch it weekly. Only not so many of you anymore, according to Media Life Magazine. Those bastards say Queen B lost a third of her viewers between Episode 1 and Episode 3. We're talking a 1.1 rating with the big-ass 18-49 demo.

Mama pulled a 1.9 with Mr. Sperm Donor for the debut. This corpse of a show is starting to draw flies, Mommy Dearest, and you know what they produce? Maggots.

Media Life -- did I mention how they're bastards? -- also said Mom's show had "no plot, no suspense and no fun, especially when Spears turns philosophic: 'Love to me is a lot of things. Love is respect. Love is commitment. Love is honesty. Love is trust. Love is not just love. Love is all of those things combined.'"

Love is also sex, honey, which is how you got into the big-belly business. I'm off to get me some nutrients now. The goal is to be a 20-pound baby, pushing outta Mama's vault. When it's all done, we're talking hot dog in a hallway. Sorry, "Dad."

BACK OFF, NAME CALLERS

2005-05-22T09:55:00.000-07:00

Sometimes a fetus just wants to reach out and slap someone -- in this case, the idiots at ausculture.com, who think my name is a running joke.

Yeah. My name. 'Cause once I walk outta this womb I'm not putting up with anybody calling me "Baby." I gots a rep to uphold, ya know?

But those dolphin waxers over at ausculture think it's hilarious to "guess" my name. Check, some fool wrote:

In keeping with the Martin/Paltrow Fruit & Veg Theme… how about …Asparagus!!

How 'bout I asparagus your ass and make you like it? How 'bout I unload a diaper full on your head?

Kiss my placenta. My name is gonna be so kick, all will bow before me and worship the offspring of Queen B. And no, you don't get to know it before I bounce outta the oven. A girl's got to keep some secrets.

ENOUGH WITH QUEEN B

2005-05-20T13:42:00.000-07:00

Britney this, Britney that, damn but I'm sick of hearing about Britney Britney Britney.

She's only in the news right now because of me. Ain't nobody wasting ink and paper on Queen B if she's doing something like releasing another CD fulla noise, or signing a deal to make another godawful movie.

But Christ on a crutch, everywhere you turn, you see Brit's face (me, everywhere I turn, I see the inside of Britney's uterus). She's in USA TODAY, on Ellen's show, blabbing with some radio station's morning jocks. If she wasn't my Mom I'd want to slap the crap out of her, but because I'm dependent on her nutrients -- for now -- I guess I'll have to put up with it.

But only for another four months or so. Then I'm busting outta this joint, grabbing hold of the first Brit nipple I see and drinking deeply, greedily, from the well. Wish I had teeth. If you read somewhere that she's decided to bottle feed, you'll know why.

I AM SO SORRY

2005-05-18T05:40:00.000-07:00

Now that most people have cleaned the vomit from their TV screens, it's time someone said it:

My Mom is stupid.

I don't mean "stupid" as in mouth-breathing idiot. That would be Kevin, the sperm donor posing as my Dad. He's barely able to keep upright on two legs -- but nobody expected anything more from Mr. Spears.

My Mama, on the other hand? Singer. Dancer. Prancer. Vixen. So maybe some people thought she had a lil bit o' brain up between her ears, what with her success and the fact that she's carrying the Greatest Fetus In The World.

But you know, all that's been destroyed. Didja see "Chaotic" last night on UPN?

"You can't handle my truth," Queen B kept saying to the camera. Honey-bunny, yes we can. The truth is -- God, this hurts me, but I gotta say it -- the truth is that Brit isn't very bright. The only illumination around her comes from incandescents. The only intelligent life around her is inside her, trying to get a better wireless connection outta this womb.

Lordy, but "Chaotic" was painful to watch. Mama and Mr. Sperm watched it, of course, laughing at their inside jokes. Brit's knees as boobs? Hilarious. Boy howdy. Haven't seen that one in a while.

And asking everyone their favorite sexual position? Mama mama mama, why you act like such a ho? I know you're into doggy and reverse cowboy, but you don't have to tell everyone.

"Love is love," Kevin the Sperm Donor said. Wow, dude. Don't work your brain so hard. Might pop a vein.

THANK YOU, SCOTTSDALE!

2005-05-14T19:28:00.000-07:00

Mad love to Arizona, y'all. Mama and Mr. Sperm Donor -- I know I should call him Daddy, but he's just gonna get kicked to the curb, so why bother? -- and Little Me went to Scottsdale to kick back, eat some chow, do some plugging. Ah, the life of a celebrity fetus.

Mama and Whathisname got this reality show dropping on May 17. Six episodes, yo, all with home videos. And no, you don't get to see them bumpin' uglies. This is class, y'all.

"Doing a documentary series seemed like the last thing I would do," Mama be typin' on the blog. "... And putting ourselves out there seemed crazy, but that is exactly when I realized I should do it. The craziest things I've ever done have always been for the best."

Yeah yeah yeah. She's callin' it her "own therapy" and talkin' all crazy-ass, like some sorta New Age reflection witch. Must be the hormones kickin'.

WHOA, MAMA

2005-05-14T19:23:00.000-07:00

So yo, Queen B is yappin' upstairs. I can hear here all the way down here. Damn, this womb's got some thin-ass walls.

Anyway, she's all this and all that about some movie she's gonna star in, after she's done carrying me in her oven.

Trading Paint. Ain't that a stupid-ass name for a movie? Brit's all, "It's about two NASCAR drivers who get into this horrible crash, and I'm the only one who can bring them back together, y'all."

And then she's like talkin' about making a movie to prove that Crossroads didn't suck, and I love ya, Mama, but that flick stunk worse than a filled baby's diaper.

Don't know anything 'bout that, Mama? Just you wait.

KICKIN' SOME ASS

2005-05-14T19:17:00.000-07:00

Sorry it's been a while since I posted. Gestating and all that.

When I pop outta this oven I'm tracking down Jason Alexander and kicking his ass. After I kick his girlfriend's ass, that is.

Dig: Mom's ex-old man is flapping his gums and saying his new girlfriend is also named Britney.

"It's a strange coincidence," says Mr. Obvious. I can forgive a man his stupidness. But when he ranks out my Mama, it's a whole nother thing.

Check what he said:

"The difference between the two: she's a natural beauty, whereas Britney Spears has had a lot of cosmetic help."

Mothafugga. I'm a kick him in the crotch so hard, his boys be crawlin' back home crying to Mama. Bastard.

POPE ME

2005-04-20T09:22:00.000-07:00

Benedict? The new Pope names himself after a vomitous egg dish? What the hell is wrong with old people, anyway? Do they do stupid stuff just to annoy a fetus?

Mama better not get any ideas in her head. She's like that, you know -- always thinking she has to do something just 'cause someone told her it would be cool. Like when she remade that Bobby Brown song.

She's the kind of person who would name her baby "Benedict" just 'cause the new Pope picked the name, and if it's good enough for the Pope, then it's good enough for Queen B. I don't think she's aware that Benedict is the 16th sucker with that name. Brit's bopping around the house, talking to people on the phone and saying "Benedict Ex-Vee-Eye." Shhh. Don't tell her she's wrong and maybe she'll say it on Entertainment Tonight.

Ex-Vee-Eye. What a maroon.

Me, I want a totally unique name. None of this "Britney" crap for me. And if she's even thinking about two names (like Jamie Lynn), then I'm coming out of this womb and giving her a smack-down. Ain't no backwoods hick growing in this oven, honey.

MAMA SAY WHAT?

2005-04-15T18:12:00.000-07:00

OK, now I'm laughing so hard I might bust a uterus, and I don't mean mine, 'cause hell if anyone knows the shape of my genitals. I don't even have any yet.

But I do have spies out there where you are -- hey, Britney don't birth no stupid eggs -- and today I hear that Dear Old Mom doesn't plan to slow down when I appear.

Some "friend" of hers told a UK newspaper that Queen B "can't give up her career because she has so many ambitions left. She's still writing songs and is looking for acting roles because she still feels she has a lot to prove."

Acting roles? Please tell me you haven't seen "Crossroads." If you did, I'm sorry. That apology comes from the bottom of Brirney's heart. And womb.

As for Mom's ambitions, she better wise up and ambition on ME. Ain't no nannies gonna be rearing the Next Best Thing. Anyone try to dump me off on the hired help, I'm gonna projectile out both ends like there's no tomorrow. You hear that, Mama?

GET SHAR JACKSON ON THE PHONE

2005-04-15T06:20:00.000-07:00

I mean it, Mama. Don't go all pussy on me. I'm settling this Shar thing once and for all.

You may not want to talk with her because you think she's going to kick your ass (and guess what? She is going to slap you around like a cheap puta ... just as soon as you're done baking me in your oven). She knows better than to hit you while I'm here. I'd beat her down like a wad of rising bread dough.

Shar's out there making all kinds of noise about how Dad is irresponsible, how he's already got two fine kids and doesn't need a third, how he's nothing but a big whore. Didn't you hear her on the news, saying you and Dad were "meant for each other" because you're both cheaters and drinkers and smokers?

Yeah, well, don't try arguing against the truth, Queen B. Makes you look bad. Kinda like when you kept saying you were a virgin, even though Justin, the homo, admitted that you two had done the nasty. I mean, no big for me, though it would have been cool to be made of Justin's sperm. He's much hotter than Dad.

Admit it, Mom. The whole world knows. Even Helen Keller would know.

Keller. K-E-L-L-E-R. Deaf, dumb, blind. No, she didn't play the pinball. Christ, Mom, am I gonna have to teach you everything?

NOTE TO MOM: LAY OFF THE SMOOTHIES

2005-04-13T19:39:00.000-07:00

A few things while I've got your undivided attention:

•I know Grandpa Jamie is just trying to be cool, doing the gig in Venice. But Queen B, you gotta quit slurping down the smoothies from JJ Chill. Don't be blaming me for the belly you're already getting, girl, coz that ain't cool. It ain't even kosher, and I know you know what that means, since you're "reading" that Kabbalah book about God and lipstick.

•I don't know how to tell you this, Mom, so I'll come right out and say it. I'm a Democrat. Bet you can't wait for us to have cute conversations about politics, huh?

•About that "perfume" of yours, Curious. I'm a little curious at why you think it smells nice. Even up in here I can smell the stuff, and Mama, that oughta tell you something. Ease up on the scent or expect some serious third-trimester kicking.

Love you, Mom! Is it time to dump Daddy and his bratty offspring?

MAMA!

2005-04-13T19:25:00.000-07:00

MAMA
Posted by: britsbaby.

I can't wait to start nursing on these puppies.

ONE LUCKY FETUS

2005-04-13T17:06:00.000-07:00

I'm inside of Britney and you aren't.

Let me tell you, this is one fine womb -- snug, warm, got a good beat. I can see living here for several months, so long as the Queen B and her sperm supplier don't do too much more bopping. No offense to Dad, but we really don't need him anymore, now that we've harvested his seed.

The Queen's going to have a royal baby -- me!

Already I'm a star and I'm still a first-trimester fetus. Mom might be all up in everyone's grill because she's been a star since that whole Mickey Mouse thing (God, don't get me started on that floating log of a show. Did you know Queen B still watches reruns of that dreck? Thank God for windowless wombs), but I'm the Real Deal. Made the news and I'm not even viable. Take that, all you teen queen wannabes.

Mom has her own web site, as you probably know, and she's all "we want to share our wonderful news" over there. "Thank you for your thoughts and prayers," she had someone type (c'mon -- you think she can type?) on her page.

Thoughts and prayers? Hey hey Mama, make 'em sweat, make 'em groove, make 'em fork over some fine presents for us. We don't settle for "thoughts and prayers" anymore. They must think Queen B is still doing the "Baby One More Time" schtick. Fools.

That's why I've started a blog. The queen's too wrapped up in the "I wanna be a young mom" line. Won't pay any attention to what we need -- and dammit, we need presents. Lots of bitchin' presents. Like a bunch of them Tiffany's baby rattles and all that sterling-silver crap. A baby's got needs, dammit. Especially the first-born child of the Queen B herself.

Seriously, do you know how kick this gestation is going to be? Just better make sure that Mom doesn't pack on too many LBs. She's already got those upper arms that just scream, "I'm going to be a fat middle-aged woman." It'll be the sequel to "I'm Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman." It'll be huge. Just so long as Brit isn't.

And Sperm Boy better not plan on much more horizontal bopping between now and The Blessed Event. I'll be damned if I'm going to put up with Mr. Purple poking his head in to see how I'm doing. Next time that thing comes knocking on my door, I'm grabbing the knife.

Christ, but it's tough to type in here. Somebody get me a cell phone.