I knew she would come to her senses sooner or later!
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I knew she would come back to her senses sooner or later!!!
Don't Hate!!!!!!
So yesterday was the big Britney Spears Speaks Out interview on Dateline. I know, I know, she’s a little, dare I say loopy. She needs new hair extensions, her shirt was too low-cut and her chunky flip flops were circa 1995. Oh and let’s not forget the big glob of mascara that was on the tip of her eyelashes for the whole 60 minute interview. But I digress, despite all these outward and painfully obvious shortcomings, I still love my Britney.
***For some reason the blogger Add Image button isn't working. Imagine, if you will, a photo of Britney where she is smiling that geeky wide smile she does oh so well.
And not in that I-love-watching-monster-trucks-crash-into-each-other way or I-love-slowing-down-by-car-accidents-to-see-if-I-can-spot-any-blood way either. I love her for her quirky sense of logic. ( “ I Married Jason Alexander because I was missing a sense of home;…..It was a mistake…But I have no regrets.”) I love her for her defiant resolve to not look pretty for the paparazzi. ( “ I still go out in curlers. I go out for walks in my pyjamas. You have to. You can’t let them control how you live.”) I love her for her stubborn, childish explanations of past blunders. (The paparazzi was really impactful….They were surrounding me and my baby…They were shouting things. I had to get my baby out of there. I tripped on the cobblestone street. It happens… I made a mistake… I will make millions more. I am human.) I love her for her weird contradictions. She does an in-depth interview on TV to tell the people that the paparazzi are out of control. Isn’t that a bit like dangling a piece of meat in front of a rapid dog? She says that people are too-obsessed with her relationship with her husband, Kevin Federline. Well, then was it really a good idea to launch a reality show about your courtship, Britney?
****This is where I was going to post that photo of Britney where she's all blubering, and her mascara is running and her face is all red.
Okay, Okay. Maybe now I’m starting to sound like I don’t like Britney. Like I am ragging on her. Well, there seems to be definite room for improvement with this girl. But even if she stayed the way she is I would be happy; as long as she is happy. And you know what? Right now she’s seems very unhappy. Maybe there are easier ways for her to be happy ( IE dump her husband; get a makeover; get back with Justin), but it seems like Britney is in defiant mode and she will not relax until she gets what she wants HER WAY.
It’s doesn’t bother me. Sure I miss the ole Britney. But I also miss the old me that used to be able to party 4 nights a week and survive a semester of 300-level English courses on a diet or ramen noodles and Diet Coke. But times change. People change. I still enjoy hearing about nice Britney things. How she’s like “My Baby is my Religion.” How she wears those funny t-shirts that say I’m with stoopid and the arrow is pointing at some random paparazzo that’s chasing her. How she said that she enjoys getting fat and eating cheetos now that she’s pregnant. How she got Chinese food take-out delivered to the Delivery room when she had her baby Sean Preston. How the new Muse single “Supermassive Black Hole” totally bites on the Britney hit “Do Something."
I like it. Bumps and bruises and all. She’s like a slightly bruised apple. You’re not going to throw away the whole apple, right? No. You just cut around the bruise and use the apple in a salad or apple cobbler. Maybe the apple isn’t eaten in the way you intended, but it’s still good. It still has worth. And bruises heal, right? Well, actually I guess bruised apples don’t heal, but I think you see where I am headed here. I never said metaphors were my forte.
Viva la Britney!
It's one of my biggest pet peeves, you know. When writers incorporate obscure references or inside jokes into their writing as a way of making themselves seem smarter than they are. Music reviewers are notorious for doing this. It makes me feel like I'm not cool enough to read this. Like there's something wrong with me because I can't pick out the letter o from 10 pages of random numberals from 1-0. It's so annoying. It's so conceited. It's so lazy. It's so Douglas Coupland's new book, J-pod.
I had big hopes for this book, you know. I guess because i've loved all of Douglas Coupland's other works and I felt like he was a nice guy because when he did a signing for his Terry Fox book, he didn't mind that I had just my old Hey Nostradamus book and not the new book he was promoting for him to sign. Also I hadn't read a good book in a while. I'd been reading a lot, mind you. But since the whole James Frey A million Pieces debacle, I haven't really been excited about reading a new book. Until J-pod.
Maybe that's why I happily shelled out $30 for a hardcover edition of the new book the week it came out.
But pretty early into the book I realized that while it followed the same tried and true Coupland formula of using average-joe type young people who get suckered into the weird situations that have always been regulated to old wives tales and urban legends; there was a twist and not good one. This time Doug decided to incorporate about 100 pages of weird drivel. Like 5 full pages of prime numbers; like 20 pages of random oversized text that doesn't relate to the narrative; like a boring plot twist that turns Douglas Coupland into a character in his own novel. ( how self-reflexsive; how self-aware; how self-CENTRED).
This book was not terrible. But it was not good either. Take my advice Doug: go back to writing about what you know: young people dreading the apocalypse and pop-culture references that everyone undertstands and appreciates. No more weird Japanese crap! No more recycling your old books.
Thanks!
Am I the only one who can barely belive that this girl, in all her dumpy, overly-eager glory has trasnformed from ugly duckling, to coke-out whore, to the D-listed, teen version on Meg Ryan to an actual campy and glorious singer?
It's weird. But somehow hypnotic. And the song is catchy as hell.
And for some inexplicable reason, I feel like a proud mama, like a proud Cher when she unveiled Tai in her apres make-over glory to the class and all the boys were all over her including her ex-stepbrother, ( Paul Rudd before he got a little chub and wrinkly) which made her jealous, because now she had like created a monster or something as everyone was talking about Tai instead of her and now she had the hotts for her ex-step-brother. But I digress.
I love this song. I love Clueless. I love Cher.
The End.
Okay, okay. I guess this is all all fraud. My tirade againist the immorial Inernet was all but in vain. Whatevs.
www.dlisted.blogspot.com
Oh, Internet. You are so coy. First you let that girl sell her virginity on E-bay. Then you let that sleazy TMZ site post a video of two 8 year-olds going at it. Oh and let's not forget the malestorm that is the mail-order brides phenomenon. Now there's this guy Geoff. Geoff is 25. Geoff is a virgin. Geoff's 'friend' that happens to be soem hot blonde, has agreed to de-virginize him if he gets 5 million hits on his site in the month of May. www.avirginsplea.com
He's already at 3.1 million.
Who knew the Internet could help a lonely virgin get laid by some pretty girl; whose next step will no doubt be sexing the poor, hungry virgins in Africa.
And you thought Paris Hilton was the sign of the apolcaylse.
Current Mood: Fed Up
Currently Listening to: Gnarls barkley.
