If only some sanitizing wipes and a splash of perfume could fix their problems. Herewith, the biggest celebrity disasters of This Our Tabloid Era.
Britney Spears
The original Great American Tragedy: she dropped the accent and the pink wig, but she's under parental surveillance, her tour's a mess, and she's still in love with Justin. America, look what you've done.
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It's just infuriating at this point. Eat something. Stay at home. Avoid fake tans. Come on, LiLo, help a fanbase out.
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The English-speaking world's favorite male crackhead is considerate enough to check in on his local London police station at least once a month. How he manages to keep it up for the various supermodels he beds is something of a scientific mystery.
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Amy would be the English-speaking world's favorite female crackhead. These days she's more of a plain drunk, but she managed to get hauled into court within 3 days of her return to the UK, so. Potato potahto.
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She has a fair number of legitimate excuses, but the colorful blogging and dramatic weight loss don't really paint a picture of someone who is “dealing” well.
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Ok, buddy, rap career or no, the bloating, facial hair, spaciness, and assaults on random fans are starting to grate.
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What. Are. You. Wearing?
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No really, what are you wearing?
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Paula is a Mess of Hope, of Joy, of the Mysteries of Painkillers. Really though, as long as she is safe, maybe don't clean her up, because American Idol is a hoot.
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Mischa Barton
Poor Marissa Cooper; your mom is a porno and the next thing you know you're dead on a mountaintop (she died on a mountaintop, right?) and you can't get another decent job to save your life.
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