You'll hopefully like this story, then. My brothers were bowling with some of their friends here in L.A. when chris brown and his entourage show up. At some point, the jukebox starts playing a Rhianna song. One of chris' bodyguards starts running around the place screaming, "where's the DJ? where's the DJ?" When his acute powers of observation *snerk* made it clear to him there was none, he tried unplugging the jukebox. And failed. After that, my brothers and company were trying to figure out how to get the jukebox to play nothing but Rhianna songs for the rest of the night.
I like Brad Pitt as an actor, but hate him as a celebrity. He was great in Fight Club and Se7en.
I think I'd kill Lil' Wayne. (I type this under the assumption that he is still alive.) I have no desire to lick the lollipop. No matter how many times you call me shawty.