(Flynet)

Britney came home from picking her wedge while serving her momma a legal letter about staying away from her kids while on meds that she should have served her hillbilly self to probably find out that K-Fed isn’t signing off on the divorce papers. Meanwhile, across town, Shar Jackson’s ghetto ass is being photographed proudly holding up negative EPT stick pregnancy tests to show us that she hasn’t been knocked up by K-Fed. And after blatantly lying to Larry King that she’s never done drugs (seeing as she’s rarely out on the town without a J or a pipe attached to her syphilis lips as evidenced by numerous photos and videos), Paris has taken off for Hawaii. Oh, and Lohan’s probably on a trip to the petting zoo because the rehab she’s in is real strict. If you weren’t aware before, we live on Planet Trashbag. Ahem, anyway – the K-Fed details:

Under an agreement reached in March, the pair – once they sign the documents – would continue their interim arrangement of joint legal and physical custody of their two sons.

“Britney’s attorneys are anxious to see Kevin sign off on a divorce,” the source says. “But Kevin and his lawyer Mark Vincent Kaplan are dragging their heels out of concern over reports of Britney’s post-rehab partying.”

More on Kevin Federline’s custody concerns after the jump.

Federline’s camp, the source adds, “wants to make sure that the divorce document makes it simple enough for Kevin to downsize Britney’s access to her kids the next time her behavior troubles him.”

I’d say the clothes alone are troubling. Does anyone miss Audrey Hepburn? Rock Hudson? Marilyn? Cary Grant? Redford? Newman? Natalie Wood? Jimmy Dean? No, I’m not reciting “Vogue”. I know I’m not actually old enough to fully appreciate celebrity back then. But despite the fact that most of those people had the same problems as now, it was done with an air of class and sophistication. Sure, most of em were junkies, sluts, lushes and closet homosexuals. But none of em would have been out there serving their Mom with stayaway letters while in Daisy Dukes with their hands in their buttcrack. And none of em’ would have released rap albums. Planet Trashbag, ya’ll.