I can’t decide what to do about Britney Spears. No, she hasn’t taken over my bedroom like she did to these people, but she’s screwing with my head just the same. Because of her, I can no longer buy some of my favorite magazines like People and US Weekly.
Oh, all right, so I still buy them, but I feel guilty about buying them. Because once the magazine is actually in my house, I can’t stop myself from reading whatever Britney escapade they’ve decided to write about on that particular week. When this whole Britney/K-Fed/Cheetoh debacle started two or so years ago, it was funny. Hilarious even. I mean, come on–the girl was a super-rich, international celebrity and she was walking into gas station bathrooms WITH NO SHOES ON. Who wouldn’t find that entertaining?
And then came the tacky wedding, and the back-to-back babies, and the continuing but no less mystifying presence of K-Fed in his wife beater with his trucker hat turned at a jaunty angle. Why was she still married to this guy? I kept waiting for the exclusive Barbara Walters interview where Britney would reveal that he was really a CIA agent using her connections to investigate an international drug ring and that the out-of-work backup dancer story was just his cover.
Needless to say, that didn’t happen. And now I feel sorry for her. Like, REALLY sorry for her. Because she’s not just some spoiled/wacked out celebrity; she’s sick. And it’s not cool to use a sick person and their troubles as entertainment.
Lindsay Lohan, though, that’s another story. 🙂