Monday, September 10, 2007

A Hater Defends Britney

Jeepers, I didn't sleep a wink last night due to my obsessive, intrusive thoughts on all things Britney.

What, you're surprised?

Oh, really?

Well then, you obviously do not know Ms. Lori very well, do you?

I obsess over the thought of my cat dying, for Christ's sake. Every day for the past month or so, I stare lovingly into my cat's eyes, my own welling with hot tears, and murmur "I will miss you when you die." Sometimes I say, "When you die, I will purchase another cat just like you..."

I say the latter while focusing intently on her face, so that its image will be forever burned into my brain. I want to remember each freckle on her nose, every whisker...You know, for when she's dead and all.

It's no wonder my cat has been trying her best to stay clear of ol' crazy, obsessive, morbid, depressing Mommy. I don't blame her one damn bit.

So anyway, after I turned off the tube last night, I tossed and turned, kept thinking about poor Britney Spears and that dreadful MTV Video Music Awards performance of hers, thought to myself that I'd just witnessed one of the worst displays of career suicide ever, kept pondering the whys and whatnots of her shocking-pink skin color, Cut & Kurl discount weave, embarrassing stage-wandering (did she think she was taking a leisurely stroll on the Las Vegas Strip, perchance?), and humiliatingly obvious lack of practice, discipline, self-respect, and...Sanity.

So troubled was I by my Britney thoughts, I leaped from my bed (facile like a doe, graceful as a windblown flower) and ran to my office for a smoke and some Internet gossip. Had to see if others thought the same as I, if others were obsessing much, and tossing and turning, and feeling like the world was at its end.

They were, and they did, every last gossip monger and sad, obsessive soul had joined together in an evil, gleeful chorus of hate, and I rejoiced, and I banged two rocks together and grunted in agreement, yet..

Fat, she is not.

Take a gander at that bod, people, and I dare you, if you're a woman with even a smidgen of vanity, to tell me that you wouldn't be happy with that knockout figure. Go on, I DARE you.

Hell, most women who've never even had one kid, let alone two, like Britney, never looked like that, nor will they ever. They didn't in high school, they didn't in college, and they damn sure won't after they pop out a human being or three.

She has great legs, a fantastic ass, a wonderful, healthy and slim tummy (women are NOT supposed to have six-packs, dummies), and despite the unfortunate choice of wardrobe, hairstylist, and forty Red Bull and vodkas (hence her stage-wandering and trembling, crooked lip?), Britney looks perfectly lovely.

Okay, so her thigh blotted out the entire bottom half of one of the emaciated male dancers when she wrapped it around his serpentine waist, then almost knocked him to the ground when she wagged it suggestively, but still. She looks great. Not fat. Sexy. Not cow-like. Hot. Not walrus-y. Healthy.

To sum up my completely unimportant and worthless point here, I'd just like to state -- emphatically -- that I am publicly defending Britney Spears' body, because honestly, I've been coming up empty in the blog posting department as of late, so this is all you get.

Tune in next week for an equally scintillating blog post about my cat's adorable anus.


At 5:57 PM, Anonymous gerry rosser said...

To tell ya the truth, the real lowdown, the straight poop, Brit is not high on my list of preferred entertainers. I have seen her on TV before, and, other than a couple of problems, her performances were fine. First problem: She can't sing a lick. Second problem: She can't dance a lick. I'm gonna overlook the detail that her material sucks, because some guru probably stuck her with that.

Was her performance last night any worse than what went before? Not that I could tell. One reviewer referred to her "paunch." Paunch? Where? Anyway, she still can't sing, still can't dance. Neither could Janet Jackson, or, for that matter Paula Abdul. Oh, Well.

"I can't help it 'bout the shape I'm in
I can't sing I ain't pretty and my legs are thin
But don't ask me what I think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to.
"Oh Well" Fleetwood Mac

At 7:02 PM, Blogger Granny said...

Your last sentence left me in tears - of laughter.

I didn't see the performance but I have noticed the posts all over the blogosphere.

I think I'll continue to ignore Britney and eagerly await your post of next week.

At 4:39 AM, Blogger Rabbitch said...

She looks fine. She doesn't have much of a waist to speak of, however she also doesn't have much of a belly to speak of and my ass is three times the size of hers.

She is still, however, an addled freak.

I'm looking forward to the post about your cat's anus. I'm sort of hoping there will be pictures.

At 12:24 PM, Blogger Patri Ann said...

Hear hear.

I have had one kid and I lost my baby weight, but I still wouldn't wear a bikini in public. My body just isn't that cute. I don't think it ever was--even pre kid.

I join you in defending her body. She looked good, healthy and sexy. Too bad she lacked the confidence to pull it off, the practice to perform her choreography with any kind of precision or enthusiasm and the voice to actually sing her song live.

At 6:27 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

You've hit the nail on the head yeat again.

At 11:50 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

i <3 you ms. lori!

At 8:54 PM, Anonymous nuggets said...

Poor ole' Britney. Much as I can't stand her whole phony existence, NOBODY deserved what happened to her... just out of a full-blown breakdown, to have a "comeback" album forced on her by her handlers, culminating in that physically, mentally, and emotionally unprepared for performance where she ended up lurching around like Frankenstein's Monster on 'ludes only to have the world's media and her peers rip apart what little genuine "Britney" might have been left in there with comments and jokes and digs at the few shreds of self-esteem she had remaining. Next up, "Britney found dead of overdose in her Miami hotel room."

Oh well, I always wanted to see her get eaten alive by wolves. Looks like I got my wish. :P

You get a chance watch the performance again, and keep looking at her eyes. It's gut-wrenching.

Oh yeah, and Brit may be a lot of things... but "fat" certainly isn't one of them. Let the media see Rosie O'Donnell in that outfit some time, lol.


At 12:41 PM, Blogger Ms. Lori said...

Gerry, Fleetwood Mac is one of my all-time favorite bands.

Ann, just for you, I shall actually post about my cat's adorable anus next week. With pictures, even!

Rabbitch, your hope is my command.

Patri Ann, I may not have Brit's bod, but I walk into a room as if I do. ;-)

Kirby, I LOVE Yeats! ;-)

Anonymous, please tell me you're not Tucker Carlson...

Nugs, you sweet, mushy-hearted thing, you. ;-)

At 9:16 PM, Blogger The Vegas Art Guy said...

I've never hated Britney. Been irritated by her? Yep. Not liking her lack of panties? Yep. Wondered what the hell she was thinking when she married K-Fraud? Oh, yea. Hated her?


Feel bad for her right now? Yep.

At 2:58 PM, Blogger Ms. Lori said...

Vegas Art Guy is actually Criss Angel.



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