OMFG Ya'll!

Heeeeeey ya'll! It's me, Britney! What. is. UP yaaaaaaall?! I just wanted to let ya'll know that you won't be seeing this Big Bad Bald Biotch for a lil while. See I gots to go get the treatment, to get off the Wild Turkey and nose-candy. It has been a crazy ride these past couple months ya'll. Do you mind if I smoke? See, it all started when I kicked Kevkev out. At first I was SO excited ya'll. I mean, I hadn't had a moment to just be Britney for such a long time ya'll! And at first it was So Fuuun. My manger Larry Rudy took me back, and we went ice skating in Rockafella Place and went shopping at the Gap and I got to eat with silverware and he took me to get my hairs cut. It was so nice. Then me and Paris started hanging out, and everyone loves her for being a pantyless slut, so I thought that you would all love me for baring my bukiluki, but you didn't yall. Ya'll laughed at me. And those laughs hurt. Paris wouldn't take my calls and Sean Preston and Braden or Jaden or Sutton or whatever I named him wouldn't stop crying and JUSTIN BROKE UP WITH THE AMAZON SKANK BUT STILL WON'T TAKE ME BACK AND WE ALL GO A LITTLE CRAZY SOMETIMES, YA KNOW!? Sorry. Anyway, ya'll didn't love me, but the pills and booze did. For a little while. But today I put on a green wig and tried to leave the house to buy Kools and tequilla, and Mama blocked the door and told me I have to get clean or she'll give my kids to Jamie Lynn. And I said I don't think she can do that, but I was so tired I laid down to take a nap, and next thing I know I'm in PromiseLand or something. So, I'm just gonna relax and let my hair grow back, and I'll see ya'll in 28! Have fun with the Anna Nicole Smith thing!

2007: Already over it

2’007: The Year of the Spy.
I stole that from my friend Andrew. He is an anaesthesiologist (which is, incidentally, a word that I am unable to spell and will, in perpetuity, be unable to spell… anaesthesiologist joining the ranks of such classics as: restaurant, definitely, and recommend). Anaesthesiologists don’t have a reputation for being funny or clever, but Andrew is both of those things. I think it’s because he was raised on free range chicken and Evian. I was brought up on Carl Buddig deli meat (I use the term deli “meat” loosely) and Tab which accounts for my wicked sense of humor and predisposition to certain forms of cancer.
So, having stolen “The Year of the Spy” and giving adequate props to Dr. Rudikoff, I have some predictions for ‘007 that I thought I would share with you all:

• Paris Hilton’s uterus is going to get its own reality-based TV Show. It is high time we heard directly from the source and cut out the middle man (or men in many cases). I yearn for the day I can get the real story from her womb, as I am sure you all do too. It will be called: Maude, assuming Paris’ vag looks quite a lot like Bea Arthur and the licensing for the title has expired… it’s the obvious choice.
  


• Sylvester Stallone will be a frequent Maude guest-star. Think Schneider from One Day at a Time but with just slightly less facial hair. Just slightly.
  


• Gay marriage will be legalized… in Iraq! It ain’t happening here folks… but Andorra, Croatia, Czech Republic, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Iceland, Israel, Luxembourg, New Zealand, Norway, Portugal, Slovenia, Sweden, Switzerland, the United Kingdom, Argentina, Brazil, Italy, Mexico, and all Australian states and territories recognize gay marriage. I mean sure, Croatia has long been a human rights MECCA as will Iraq, now that Saddam Hussein has been executed. Iraq is going to be the next Fire Island, and I, for one, am psyched!
  


• President Bush is going to become a vegan. I have no basis for that, but I have a hunch… He will, in short order, look exactly like Moby and have an ongoing feud with Eminem. His debut rap album is going to blow your fucking mind! Pharrell is going to collaborate, so there you go.
  


• Global warming is going to make the Midwest 72 degrees ALL THE TIME! Yeah! Suck on that east coast! You may have New York, but now WE have San Diego’s climate (without all of those immigrants, of course.)
  

That’s all I have without further consultation with my psychic: the open leg-wound guy at the Addison exit on the Kennedy Expressway- he’s brilliant and has such a gentle lover’s touch. At the end of the day, we all want a man with a slow hand…
My personal best for an amazing ‘007!
m.c.s.

2006: That year that just ended

As my new years resolution is to be more positive, I will stop the sass mouth for at least 2 weeks following this post. Or I won't. But for now it must be stated that 2006 was one shitasscock year. Why did 06 suck so hard?: The man of the year was the very undeserving You, a dance song sampling "The Lonely Goatherd", Rex Grossman, full frontal views of Britney's scarred and Lilo's orange bloated vajayjays, a diatribe by a greasy bloated Elvis look-alike making fun of said fire-crotch, more people naming their babies Jaden, the advent of the sayings "I'm bringing ____ back" "___ on a mother-fucking ____", the use of the suffix -alicious, Chicago caring enough about foie gras to spend the time/money/energy to enact a ban, leggings with jean skirts, Donald Trump talking, Rosie O'Donnell talking, Taylor Hicks, and the fact that we did not invent Youtube. It's gotta be all up from here? Right?