Teen Choice Awards: Kristen Bell

From the desk of Ned Sofanegra, WHEE! Entertainment’s online gossip columnist:

WHEN: Sunday. WHERE: The Teen Choice Awards. WHY: Aw, jeez, I may not be the youngest buck at the rodeo, but who doesn’t want to sneak a peek-a-treat at the hottest of Hollywood? We’re tawkin’ brunette Britters, blonde Brittany a-twitter, and Sophia Bush no longer bitter. Plus, more Jessica’s than you can fit in a bathroom stall.

And so that got me thinkin’: Who would these sass-packed starlets want to spank over an open toilet? And who better to ask than TV’s snarkiest sleuthy cutie.

“I don’t understand a single word you’re saying,” said Crimson — oops, Kristen — Bell.

Nuts — these cagey types just don’t understand a good wish-and-bitch sesh, no? But I pressed on: “Tish and pish, you delish dish — I’m saying’, if you could palm a pouty, pert patootie, whose would it be?”

But K.B. didn’t let me get the answer so E.Z.: “I have to go talk to, um, Kevin Federline,” she said.

The dark-rooted cutie with the primly covered booty stalked, rather than rawked, the red carpet in an old lady’s canary-yellow blouse and pants with a zipper so long it’s already in syndication. And so while she hoofed away like a show-pony — trying not to trip on her prim pants hem — I called out to the Veronica Mars honey-pie, “Would you ever date a man as old as your fashion sense?”

She didn’t answer. My bet? Depends which one, if you get the incontinent implication. I mean, which ornery oldie — short of Jack himself — would live long enough to work that zipper to its end?