My dear, sweet Brit-Brit. It has been a tumultuous and, may I say, “chaotic” eight years since you have entered my life. Seems like it was just yesterday when I rushed home from school and turned on TRL, hosted by Carson Daly a la his “fat” years, only to find solace in you and your not-so-innocence. There you were, like a reliable old friend, nestled in between 98 Degrees at Number 3 and those damned Backstreet Boys, holding down the top spot once again. By the way, what ever happened to Howie D? Does anyone know? Anyone? If you’re out there, Howie D, I miss you….
Anyway, back then, I was a young and naïve high school freshman in search of life’s meaning. And, okay, you never really got around to the answer, per say. You never sang of spiritual philosophies, or spoke of human rights or family values. But to me – to ME, you were all I needed to get by in a world where, well….none of that stuff really matters at all! I mean, come on. Who wouldn’t take “E-Mail My Heart” over “An Enquiry Into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations”, by Adam Smith, the Scottish economist and moral philosopher of the late 1700’s? Bo-ring.
But now I can’t help but wonder, whatever happened to the battle between “Good Britney” versus “Bad Britney”? And by that I mean, the controversial debate of the early 2000’s: “Pigtailed, Knee-Socked Britney” versus “Blonde-Bombshelled, Pink-Leather-Chapped Britney”.
“Did she really do it again? Why do these tears fall at night? Is she really a slave….for me? Who IS SHE for god sakes? I can’t stand not knowing the truth behind this conundrum of a human!” as everyone would say.
NOT: “Impregnated Again?!? Britney” versus “Bald-Headed Britney.”
Oh, how things have changed.
You were so alluring, so mesmerizing back then, before your first marriage in Vegas to whatshisname. Everything has gone downhill from there. I admit, I hated you on the outside for dating Justin Timberlake (he will be mine.,.oh yes, he will be mine) and owning a body no girl could deny as enviable. Deep down, however, I was always a fan and you were always fabulous and entertaining to watch. You could lip sync without missing a beat. And you never needed a reality television show to pretend you were an idiot. According to recent artistic standards, you were an icon of our time.
I only hope that you receive the help you need, and soon. These girls can wear all the hot pants, belly shirts and hair extensions they want, but no one can overthrow the Pop Princess.
And now, a fitting lyric from “E-Mail My Heart”: It’s been hours/seems like days, since you went away/And all I do is check the screen to see if you’re ok.
Pure and utter genius.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a letter for Howie D. to write.