Sure, the papers and blogs and Perezes and and TMZs and Breitbarts of the world posted pictures this morning of this train-wreck has-been with the paunchy gut, the mushy thighs, and the extensions that look like she bought them at Rite-Aid and installed them with bobby pins.
And sure she danced like an octegenarian stripper with low energy and painful corns on her feet, kind of sluggish and just not moving quite right because "one false move and I'm gonna pull a muscle!"
And yeah, she kind of didn't bother to actually mouth all the words in the songs she was lip-synching to.
But she still has a body I have never had. And I swear to god, if I looked like her in a funny little bra and hot pants and fishnets, I would totally rock this look at the office. I would walk up to people and slap my half inch of muffin-top and say, "You like it, huh? You like that? Well, get me my TPS report, stat!"
Yes, if I had her body (even in its current state), I would rejoice, my friends, because Britney's diet of Quaaludes and Red Bull tonics has done a body right, y'all!
If I could get this body as a result of hard-livin', Cheeto-eatin', pill-poppin', coke-snortin', stranger-fuckin', well, count me in!
Normally that kind of life yeilds a more zaftig-like physique, yet our little Brit shows that there is some weird math in this universe where TOTALLY-FUCKED-UP is on the Y axis and KINDA-KEEPING-IT-TOGETHER-AND-NOT-GETTING-TOO-FAT is on the X axis, and at the point of intersection, you can still see your ribs when you suck your stomach in, you can still wear hot pants and not look too digusting, and you still...somehow, magically...net $700k a month in royalties. It's really not a bad deal at all.
Until you decide you want to live with some dignity.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Labels: non-decor post... deal with it.