Jennifer Lopez met with Barack Obama’s staff this week as she toured Washington, fueling rumors that she has plans to record a song for the presidential hopeful.

Sweet Minty Jesus, please let this be a lie from the pits of hell! I will run that ass over and send Perez Hilton a text my damn self if J. Lo hits the recording booth for Obama.

“She just came in for the meeting and departed,” says the spokesman. He adds: “It was not campaign-related.”

When asked what brought her to the Hill, Lopez smiled. “I’m not ready to do any press yet,” she said, her eyes hidden behind a pair of big, black sunglasses.

Sounds like a degree of hoe shit was involved. Keep your eye one the prize, Michelle.

Al B. Sure celebrated his 40th birthday with his spawns and a host of other tragic negroids from the Z-list last night [Guy Torry and Thelma Hopkins was there, enough said] in Hollywood. As you can see, there is no shortage of self esteem in the Brown men, especially that Lil’ Al B. Sure.

You give momofukas a Wikipedia page and they think that’s a free season pass to I’m The Shit Land.

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Kizzy Rowland was stunned when she lost the role as Carrie Bradshaw’s assistant in the ‘Sex In The City’ film to Jennifer Hudson. She must really think she is Deena Jones or something.

“I can’t understand it because I did a really good job at the audition, a really good job! I hate it, and of course I feel that I should have the part, but then Jennifer Hudson’s just won an Oscar, so maybe she’s better for the role. But I was so bummed at that, I really wanted it.”

Girl, bye! Here are some recent flicks of Kizzy trying to remain relevant at Cannes that I skipped over last week. Hey, there weremore important things going on at the time.

Allison Reynolds wrote a post on her MySpace profile about his split with Star Jones on Tuesday. Cue the violins!

“I know in my heart that I entered my marriage with love and the best of intentions and leave it with great sadness that it didn’t work . . . If you think you are having a tough day, may I propose you walk in my shoes for a few hours,” he writes. “In my mind, it feels like ‘Dump on Al Month.’ And I’m not having fun yet. I have been called a gigolo, a freeloader, unemployed, a sham and many other things that don’t bear repeating. People on television, radio and the internet have spoken disparagingly of my life, my sexuality, my career and my integrity.”

He says that few people truly know him, and may have some misconceptions from news reporting of his partying. “I indeed work very hard as a professor, business owner, doctoral student and author. I play hard too,” he says. “I make no apologies for that. A guy is entitled to a little fun, after all.” [source]

Girl, stop! I have an hard enough time strutting around in my own Jimmy Choo’s, I’m not trying to walk in the next bitch’s pair.

Before I continue any further I just want to say that I am overnighting a root box to each and every member of the A Hot Mess crew for putting me on to this.

Cuba Gooding Sr. butchered the national anthem at the 2008 Soulabration Tournament like he worked at a slaughter house on the bank of the Mississippi River. It’s just not right! Real talk, this shit made me cry like Precious Taft on Stairway to Stardom.

But first, lick lick lick lick lick lick Khia’s juice box. If you make it past this then you are more than welcome to come to the party under the cut.

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The saying “rather talked about than not mention at all” is a lie from the pits of hell. If I were a washed up celebrity I would just disappear to oblivion [otherwise known as Kim Kardashian's ass] and try to get a gig as a correspondent for The Tyra Banks Show. Before you come sideways out of your mouth that shit worked for Topanga. A check is a check.

Now what I wouldn’t do is rely on showing up to a random event hoping that a gossip site that is having a slow day posts a picture I took that night as being my only form of publicity. Nope, wouldn’t do it. I set standards for myself.

More flicks from the unveiling of the Remy Martin V.S.O.P. Bottle Designed by David LaChapelle under the cut. Yeah, you read that right.

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Thanks but no thanks. I’d rather spend my coins on copping The Punk of the South’s new mixtape.

[Flick via UrbanBridgez.com]