Holy Crap! We just posted the blog about Janice Dickenson talking shit about Britney Spears, well there's more to it than that! We just got word from the interviewer that Janice was on a rampage and she didn't just stop at Britney. Here's some highlights from the interview:
Chuck Shelton: How do you feel about Kate Moss?
Janice Dickenson: Truly one of the most superior icons that ever walked . . . that ever lived . . . that ever figured up the supermodel scale. Just because she hit a speed bump and was seen with some unhealthy people—
CS: “Speed bump . . .”
JD: —doesn’t make her a bad person. Even if she was a hooker plying her trade in front of her daughter doesn’t connotate that she’s a bad mom.
CS: Hmm.
JD: Kate has a problem like I do, with chemical dependency. She’s back in full-tilt boogie, and I applaud her for getting back on the horse and riding.
CS: What about Paris? You friends?
JD: I love Paris. Paris is playing it according to Paris’s rules. And what’s wrong with that? She’s not doing anything to hurt anybody. She just likes to be photographed. She was never a supermodel. Paris turned herself into a . . . a Hilton. She was born a Hilton and made everyone know that she was the Paris of the Hiltons. Money, who cares. She dates rich Greek men. What’s wrong with that? And she’s smart enough to keep the jewelry.
CS: What about Britney and . . . Kevin Priceline, you call him in the book.
JD: Kevin Priceline. What a fucking asshole. What a fucking using, pond-scum leech.
CS: What about her? She hangs onto him.
JD: Well, he obviously bangs the living hell out of her. You know, what do they call sperm that hit? . . . What do they call sperm that hit? He’s loaded? What do they call it? I forgot. Sperm that hit. Kevin Priceline is probably packin’.
CS: Yeah, probably.
JD: His looks have faded as far as I’m concerned. He was never hot—
CS: No? He wasn’t good-looking?
JD: I never found him hot at all. But she’s a hick anyway. She needs to get hot again. Stop clomping around in those Malibu flip-flops.
CS: You see her on David Letterman?
JD: She looked like shit. What’s her problem? She needs me to style her. She needs to call me up.
CS: She needs a voice coach.
JD: Britney . . . Call me up. She doesn’t need—she made a lot of little girls happy. But I. Don’t. Judge.
CS: You’d give her a makeover or . . .?
JD: I would dip her in . . . I would tar and feather her first of all, tell her to dump that fucking hick husband of hers. She needs solid advice, and not from Hicksville.
CS: What about this famous [unnamed] model you write about in the book. The one who went on a date with the [unnamed] boring screenwriter at The Ivy.
JD: Uh-uh.
CS: Tell me.
JD: Uh-uh.
CS: Off the record.
JD: Uh-uh.
CS: Why?
JD: I can’t. Because then it’ll end up on the record—
CS: No, it won’t. I’m taping this.
JD: Uh-uh.
CS: You can sue me if—
JD: Say it again. Say it again.
CS: The question? [Slowly] Who is this famous model . . . you write about . . . who went on the date with the boring screenwriter at The Ivy?
JD: Well, it wasn’t a boring screenwriter. It was a [redacted].
CS: No—
JD: You figure it out. I can’t, I can’t—
CS: No. You need to go back to the book and fact-check.
JD: Uh-uh. I changed . . . I changed the titles because everyone would figure out who the famous model is, married to the [redacted]. Need I say more? That’s off the record.
CS: God.
JD: Holla. I’m entitled to change any fucking thing I want. I don’t need to fact-fucking-check. Fuck you.
CS: Alright then. Holy—
JD: Sorry. You’re just—
CS: Go ahead.
JD: You’re just nosy.
CS: You write this stuff.
JD: And you read it, and you critique it because you’re intrigued.
CS: You’re just trying to titillate.
JD: I know how to titillate, skitillate, ventilate, blintillate, shitillate.
For the full article go to The Book Standard
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