Has Fergie been out patrolling city streets late at night in an effort to save poor inebriated souls like myself from stumbling straight into Scientology inductment centers masquerading as doughnut shops or your mother’s bedroom? Well, according to my new Thetan commander, the answer to that question is my family and friends are all dead and my depression is really just a mild case of low blood sugar.

You know what? Why don’t you just answer that question yourself after viewing the photographic evidence I’ve compiled here. Like me, I’m sure you’ll come to the logical conclusion that Fergie is indeed a superhero.

Exhibit A: Fergie arrives at the MTV Studios yesterday in an outfit that looks strikingly similar to the one that hooker was wearing last night. Has Fergie been dumpster diving again? If so, I should probably invest in a shovel next time.

Exhibit B: Fergie departs from the MTV Studios that same day in an outfit that is –gasp!- not the same. Seriously, that’s her - just hours later. You can tell because the sunglasses are the same. So…

…does all this mean that Fergie is currently living out of that big purse she’s carrying and hasn’t showered in weeks? Why, of course it does!

And there you have it: concrete proof that Fergie is indeed a homeless person. Or maybe even a prostitute that likes to get extra dirty so she tends to pack accordingly. Or…what? A superhero? Stop sniffing glue.

Editor’s Note: Notice how I didn’t make any comments about Fergie being ugly or about the strong possibility of her being a man? I’m so proud of myself; I think I’ve really turned a corner here.

At first glance, I thought for sure this was a picture of Fergie working out in a prison yard after finally being tried and convicted for impersonating a woman. That was, of course, before I remembered that I’m a complete fucking idiot and that most prisons don’t have readily available getaway cars or sexy personal trainers like Jo from “The Facts of Life”.

Therefore, I am left with but one logical conclusion: Fergie is the king queen ruling transsexual of all attention whores on the west coast. For only a person like that would actually take the time to carry weights outside to lift them and then carry them back as a favor to the paparazzi she likes to whine about in her songs.

Editor’s Note: In case you were wondering, I am presently the king of all attention whores on the east coast since I have over fifty suicide attempts and Regis is on vacation. As for the Midwest, I’m not exactly sure who rules that roost but I’m betting it’s the guy who likes to fuck all the scarecrows at the annual corn festival - Pastor something or other.

Editor’s Note II: Edit Harder: I don’t want to brag, but I thought you should know that I can bench almost twice much as Fergie can. And not just once either, but twice. Sometimes I can even do it without turning red and shitting my pants. Call me, ladies.

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s definitely something strange about Fergie’s running style here. It’s like her ass just can’t keep up with the rest of her body and she’s desperately pulling it along as if it was loaded with ten tons of coal and a few Depression-era hobos looking for work [which, from what I understand, would certainly explain the undeniable odor of cigars and urine that is said to permeate from her ass whenever she gets excited].

And what’s with all that water and Gatorade she’s carrying around on her waist? It looks like Nick Nolte’s utility belt, if, of course, you replaced the water with vodka and the Gatorade with tomato juice. Sorry Fergie, but unless that additional weight is a kilo of coke, it’s not going to make you run any faster.

And finally, who the hell goes jogging in sweat pants that are roughly six inches too long? It’s like she purposely wants to face-plant off the sidewalk, which, to be fair, could just as easily improve her looks as ruin them. If, of course, the sidewalk in question was made up of nothing more than glue and brown paper bags.

Black Eyed Peas singer Fergie – real name something manly – was once so desperate to hide her addiction to crystal meth that she actually blamed her dramatic weight loss on being bulimic and even convinced her band Wild Orchid [made up of big Mickey Rourke fans no doubt] to attend meetings with her at People Destined To Become Fat And Just Delaying The Inevitable Anonymous.

From Female First:

She explains, “They staged an intervention, at which point I told them I was bulimic (to cover up for the fact that) I was only 90 pounds (41 kilograms).

“I put up a whole front - I even took them to Overeaters Anonymous with me.

“I’ve never been bulimic in my life, but when you’re a drug addict, you lie.

“I don’t want to be the poster girl for crystal meth, but it’s very addicting, and people don’t know just how addicting it is!”.

Could someone please point out to me where in the celebrity handbook it says you have to confess all your dirty little secrets to anyone carrying a pad and pencil? Because the last time I checked, there was no such passage, which basically means that Fergie really only has herself to blame if her image suddenly pops up one day during reruns of Hee-Haw to promote Tennessee Bob’s latest crystal meth concoction.

On a side note, I’d like to personally thank Fergie for giving us further proof that bulimia really doesn’t exist and that those people supposedly suffering from it are actually just lying attention whores with shameless crystal meth addictions.

I mean, come on, purposely throwing up food after you wasted all that time eating it. Who the hell would do something like that? Ok, besides Star Jones, and that’s only because she likes to keep eating after she’s full.