In the dental office, they have TVs over the chairs to distract people who are having pointed objects rammed into their gums at full speed. The TV above my chair was tuned to The View, perhaps to remind me that all pain was relative.
So Barbara mentioned Britney Spears' recent slapfight with her mama and now I'm blogging about Barbara Walters talking about Britney Spears and realizing that if this is all I have going for me, maybe it's time to run a hot bath and have a pill-eating contest. But I'll bravely press on!
Barbara was more or less flabbergasted that Britney has fallen so far, so fast. She used to be America's darling teenage slut and now she's this...this...MONSTROSITY! A celebrity! A rich person! Slapping her mother! It's all the talk of Barbara's brunch circles, one must imagine.
But, you see, becoming an incredibly wealthy celebrity doesn't somehow make one smarter. Britney is dumb and is staying dumb. That's certainly no revelation, but it seems to get lost in between the words celebrity and rich and Malibu and cigarettes. If Britney never became a pop tart, she'd be some hostess at a Chili's back in Louisiana, pregnant for the second time by one of the dishwashers.
She'd be a driving a red 1991 Honda Civic. The front right quarterpanel would be primer gray because she hit a lamppost one night and couldn't afford to have it fixed all the way. The radio would have a cassette player and cassette tapes would be strewn all over the backseat, hemming in the baby's carseat. She'd be late to work once a month because of car troubles. She would put Coca-Cola in her children's bottles. She would smoke Real brand cigarettes and buy them in CostCo in a convenient three-carton package. She would give out blowjobs like they were extra pieces of gum.
Picture that chick like that getting into a slapfight with her mother while both women are tipsy on Franzia and suddenly it's not so baffling to figure out how this happened.