Britney’s “orgasm” revelation

Come again? Spears talks climax during Europe visit; Steven Tyler to Brad Pitt: Let’s wife-swap! Plus: Fred Durst autographs attacker’s head.


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Amy Reiter
January 17, 2002 5:15pm (UTC)

Is Britney Spears the most frustrated not-quite-woman around, or what?

First, her choreographer has seen fit to announce that he looks to the singer's libido for inspiration.

"I get to drive Britney's sexual energy into her performances," Wade Robson told the Scottish Daily Record. "She tells me fantasies and we interpret them."

And it turns out Robson's not the only one Little Miss Bellykins is baring her sexy soul to in a naked attempt to prove she's not that innocent.

During a recent appearance at a chocolate museum in Cologne, Germany, Spears was presented with a giant heart-shaped piece of white chocolate.

Her thanks? This somewhat startling endorsement: "Chocolate for me is just like an orgasm."

Interpret that.

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If Jen's feeling up to it ...

"We gotta talk. My wife loves Brad, so if we can do a swap thing, we're good. Tell Brad to call me."

-- Steven Tyler on Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt's deal that he's the one person she's allowed to sleep with should the opportunity present itself, on "Extra."

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Ant in the rabbit hole

If anyone had told me a week ago that Adam Ant would rank a column item three days in a row, I might have asked them who Adam Ant was again.

But the story about the almost-forgotten '80s icon who was recently arrested in London for brandishing a replica of a gun keeps getting weirder. And now it seems that Ant -- real name, Stuart Goddard -- has been taken back into custody by the police. This time not just for acting crazy, but quite possibly being crazy.

Stashed away in a London mental hospital, Ant apparently felt compelled to dial up several London tabloids to protest his sanity.

"I've been abducted by the police again. They've attacked me again. I don't know why," Ant told the U.K. Sun. "They've put me in the Alice in Wonderland ward because they think I'm crazy ... I've been here all night. The whole thing's a conspiracy, and they're just out to get me. I'm not mad."

Not mad, explains Ant's official Web site, just manic-depressive.

"Adam [has] openly admitted his lifelong battle with manic depression," reads a statement posted on the site Tuesday. "As Adam acted as a potential danger to others this past weekend, for his own safety and well being, his close friends and family recommended that Adam be admitted to a hospital in Hampstead, London, for care."

What's more, you should not take the rocker's ravings too seriously, the site says: "Adam was NOT physically attacked by police at any time, nor is there a conspiracy out to get him. Adam is NOT suicidal."

He may be in the hospital as long as four weeks.

Poor guy.

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Juicy bits

Come to think of it, Brad Renfro could use a little help too. The teen actor has been arrested yet again Monday night and charged with public intoxication and driving without a license after police pulled him over in his hometown, Knoxville, Tenn. According to police, the troubled 19-year-old (remember the yacht-hauling heist?) had "slurred speech, unsteady balance and had a strong odor of an alcoholic beverage about his person." Yeah, but what made them think he'd been drinking?

In cheerier news ... Uma Thurman and Ethan Hawke hatched another kid, a boy, on Tuesday morning. The family of four (daughter, Maya Ray, is 3 years old) is said to be "home and well in New York." They have yet to announce the new baby's name, but despite David Letterman's most fervent wishes, I'm betting it won't be Oprah.

Limp Bizkit ... meet cream pie. Fred Durst was nailed with a coconut cream pie at an Oregon record store in the midst of Limp Bizkit's open auditions for a new guitarist, VH1.com reports. The frontman's bodyguards nabbed his 18-year-old attacker until police could arrest him. But before being hauled away, the kid apparently got an autograph from Durst -- on his forehead with a magic marker. Guess Durst likes pie.

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Miss something? Read yesterday's Nothing Personal.


Amy Reiter

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