EXCLUSIVE! The secret diaries of Jayden James!

OK, readers, this is it...my breakthrough acquisition! Stupid & Contagious is about blast into the stratosphere and join the ranks of such power blogs as Slashdot, BBC World Edition and Duct Tape Marketing. Through sources I will not reveal (and from here on will be referred to as "Mr. Blonde") and via 100 percent legal means, I have obtained documents far more coveted than even pre-birth emails from the Cruise-Holmes fetus (sorry, Suri): the private, bombshell-filled diaries of Jayden James Spears Federline! I wasn't even sure if this kid actually exsisted, but he does and today I reveal to you—and the world—the shocking inside story of what life is REALLY like behind the walls and in the nursery at Britney's multimillion-dollar Malibu mansion. It's like being there without having to worry about catching herpes simplex two! So now, without further ado, here are some juicy world-exclusive excerpts from these revealing documents. Proceed with caution, because what you're about to read is guaranteed to shock and appal.

Dear diary,
Just chillin' like a lil' villian here in Casa Cocainea, spittin' up on myself and wearing only a feces-filled pair of Huggies. The stinky lady that I can't understand who everyone keeps calling my mommy (her real name is Brit Knee) just left with her friend Flashlight Head. Everyone calls her Paris, so that must be where she's from because there's a city called Paris. But I just call her Flashlight Head because she has yellow hair that makes her head look like a big flashlight. Also, she has batteries in her head that rattle around when she walks. And she's also a little bit dim, like a bad flashlight. She always wears sparkly jewels, clothes in rainbow colors and for some reason a little, tiny typewriter attached to her ear that she talks into. She seems to think it's a blackberry, which you're supposed to eat anyway...she's stupid! Anyway, Flashlight Head and Brit Knee put on napkins and big, silly hats and left the house and didn't come back until very late. Well, when I say they came back, they didn't actually come into the house. They just decided to sleep in the driveway. They must have been really tired! But I'm glad they didn't come in because they kind of smell like Gerber Sweet Potatoes baby food after I spit it up combined with burning hair. Don't ask me how I know what burning hair smells like. That happened clear back with that guy with the big pants was living with us!

Dear diary,
Something really scary happened tonight. It's a long story. Brit Knee was babbling like I try to do sometimes, but she wasn't talking to the other baby that lives here or the big, chattering rats that run around in our house (thankfully, she never talks to me). She was talking to a chair. She would babble a little bit, wait and then reply like the chair had said something to her. Then she put on a big sweatshirt and left the house with the giants dressed in black that live with us. A few hours later, the door to the house opened and a big, scary monster walked in! The monster had a round head like a basketball with horrible black, staring eyes! Now the monster lives in our house and won't leave! But luckily, the monster does not eat people. Instead, all it eats are pork rinds, Treet sandwiches and Funyons. The monster smells kind of like Brit Knee, but just like she did, it doesn't pay any attention to me, so I'm not going to complain! Except sometimes it eats my baby food and then smears it all over its face and that kind of pisses me off, to be honest.

Dear diary,
Just hangin' in the hizzouse because the monster is gone! Let me tell you what happened because it's pretty crazy! First, the monster shape shifted and started pretending to be Brit Knee. It probably fooled a lot of people because it was really good; it chewed gum loudly, blew smoke out of its mouth and nose, and walked into the closed patio door a lot. The only thing that was bad was that it wore fake hair on its head all the time and you could tell it wasn't the monster's real hair. Then, yesterday, Brit Knee's mom came into the house and yelled at the monster that it had to go and the monster left! Hurray! No more Brit Knee, no more monster, no more smoke and throw up all over the place! Now I can live with my Mommy in peace and quiet in this big house with the chattering rats. I have dreams and now I can work on achieving them.

Dear diary,
Well, I spoke too soon. Brit Knee is back. At least I think it's her. This person smells like Cheetos and wears a dead skunk on her head and wanders around the house talking about how she doesn't have to take a "moral inventory" because she is a big girl and can do what she wants to and besides she doesn't even know what "moral inventory" means. Whoever it is, they still don't pay any attention to me, so that's good, but it's definitely less fun in the house with her around because everyone gets real nervous and they say things to me like "look away" and "she doesn't mean that." Sorry to complain, diary. I'm a little cranky.

Dear diary,
I never thought I'd say this, but I think I'd rather live with the Guy Who Wears Big Pants because anything is better than this hellhole. Get me the fuck outta here!

So there you have it readers: a disturbing and revealing peek into the real-life dysfunctional Beverly Hillbillies household. As with Suri, I'm really impressed with how well-spoken this little guy seems to be. For a child that has the combined mental capacity of two dead birds in his genes, he's already exceeded his parantage in smarts. Anyway, this is just a tantalizing sneak peek with more to come. I need to hold on to some of the goods so people will keep coming back. Oh, sure, I hope that someone saves the little guy and all that, but really it's all about the ratings. Look out, Duct Tape Marketing...here I come!

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