Sunday, December 03, 2006
Because closed legs don't get fed
Charlotte: Is it so much to ask that you not wear your dress up around your "see you next Tuesday?"A day without a Britney Spears fuck up is like trying to keep a Kennedy from open water. Despite being a singer who hasn't released a new album in 3 years, people still talk about her now more than ever. In the media-dominated, starfucking shithole our society's come to, that old adage rings more true now than it ever has been... no publicity is bad publicity. Just when you thought the Access Hollywood generation couldn't possibly sink twenty-somethings any lower, we've now reached a new low. Twat is the new black. Oh, how I long for the innocent age of the planned nip slip at sporting events.
Samantha: My what?
Charlotte: (drawing characters in the air): C - U - Next...
Carrie: Tuesday? Oh my God! Was that a Schoolhouse Rock I missed?
As it turns out, all those Catholic schoolgirl come-ons couldn't get her any further than a K-Mart weave, an ugly C-section scar, and a swollen, stretched out clam flapping in the breeze. What a way to roll the dice: panty-free and sharing car seats with Paris Hilton. Why not just ask a homeless guy to shove his feet up your birth canal? At this point, there's not much left for Clitney to do but stagger over to San Fernando Valley and start baring that beat up beaver for the hot lights of pornucopia full time. In the meantime, the pox-riddled pussy posse of Brit-Brit, Parisite & Blohan might as well get together do some Bangkok-brothel ping-pong act for the masses at this point. Except they probably no longer have the elasticity to make it work. Nicole Richie is feeling so left out right now.
Can the legions of waifish preteen boys with delicate features watching VMA performances past in their Midwestern farmhouse on YouTube, lips pursed and glossy mouthing along to every word to I'm A Slave 4 U catch a break? Her fan base had high hopes for snapping out of her white trash haze and crawling out of the dumpster with rugrats in tow. If they only knew the downward spiral was yet to come.
Had the wind blown one degree in the other direction, Britney would still be in Bumblefuck, Louisiana, freshly divorced from Billy Joe after cranking out a village of inbred brats and flashing her vag in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly while getting out of her 1985 Ford Escort. Oh, how I can't contain my glee in anticipation of her next tear-soaked interview with Matt Lauer, when she smacks on Bubble Yum and her mascara's streaked to Tammy Faye-like perfection, all while wearing just a tube top with her legs prepped for an inebriated pap smear pleading for the paparazzi to leave her alone. She's a mess and will continue to be a mess. I'm just holding the confetti and balloons for when she cracks completely. You can take a girl out of the trailer park, but you can't take the barefoot yokel outta the girl.
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