A Daily Dose of Zen Sarcasm!

Day 364/Britney Needs Pants

I’m so giddy thinking about my baby boy’s first birthday tomorrow –sailing the seas of cheez that are my memories, such as "a year ago at this time, I was thinking that I had really bad heartburn" and "OMG last Thanksgiving… BOOOOOHOOOO," and being sentimental about Hawaii and about friends that are now spread out around the globe– that I really am finding it hard to concentrate.

I think tomorrow –after we make it to California– I shall sit down and write a sappy and maudlin entry about how I just cannot believe it’s been 365 days since I met the second love of my life.  The entry will probably incorporate references to Johnson & Johnson commercials and to mothering… and possibly to vaginas.  So brace yourselves in advance.


There are vaginas and then there are BAGINAS.

As in Britney Spears’s bagina, which seems to be partying all on its own after the split from America’s Most Hated, Le K-Fed.

Honestly, I’m just so over this whole thing.  But not over enough to not blog about it for a last time, of course.


So okay.  I believe it was in "The Girlfriends’ Guide To Pregnancy" (which is kind of a lame book, btw) that I read that you kind of develop a weird pseudo-bond with people who were pregnant around the same time you were, and this extends to pregnant celebrities.

There were two major celebrity babies being brewed around the time that I was pregnant with Herr Meowie:  BritBrit’s and Jennifer Garner’s.  Brit, of course, delivered over two months earlier than I did.  Jennifer Garner delivered like two days later. 

Do I feel a special connection with either woman?  Uh.  No?  I barely feel a connection with women I actually *know* who gave birth around the same time I did, let alone feel some sort of synchrony or soft spot for women I have never met.  Maybe it would be cool to meet Jennifer Garner –though maybe Herr Meow could date Suri Cruise or Shiloh Jolie-Pitt instead of setting his sights on Violet Affleck– but it’s not like I see her as my "belly sister" or some schmaltzy crap like that.

I may cry over cheezy commercials, but even I have to draw the line somewhere.

So back to BritBrit:  when she announced her pregnancy (the first one), I remember being kind of disgusted– kind of how when you hear that someone far too young got herself pregnant by her boyfriend-at-the-time and she’s going to have to go it alone and all that jazz, but well, not.  When she announced her second one (and with pardons to all of you mothers of Irish twins out there), I thought she was among the most moronic people I’d ever met.

It’s one thing to get pregnant quickly (whether accidentally or planned) when you have a good, stable daddy and when you know you can provide not just material comforts but a true home and good parenting skills.  It’s a completely different one to get pregnant in what looked –and seemed to be confirmed by the rumor mill– like a pathetic attempt to reform a two-bit asshole who doesn’t see you as much else other than an ATM with breasts.

But whatever: two children, then, where brought forth into the world (do NOT get me started on elective Cesarean sections).  Throughout her two dumb marriages and the birth of her kids, everyone still rooted for her– and I kind of include myself in that group (but only for a while).  It seemed that she really was enjoying motherhood –or at least pregnancy– and that maybe, just maybe, her marriage would work.

But then, picture by picture, bad weave after bad weave and harebrained appearance after you-get-my-drift…. it all became painfully clear.

Now let me stop for a minute.  I think I know what you all think I’m going to say next, but I think that needs to be revised.

If you thought I was going to launch a tirade against the "white trash mother" bit, you’re wrong.  Everyone knows that you can be er… um…. from a modest background and exhibiting the charming yet oftentimes risible mores from certain people whose background is often identifiable by the leathery and sunburned skin of their neck– a symbol of their earning their living through an outdoor, physical and possibly menial job BUT!  You can still be smart enough to know how to live your life without ending up being the butt of every joke.

Oh no.  Britney is just stupid*.


It became painfully clear that millions may buy you expensive and gaudy nurseries and a babydaddy that sticks around longer than he did for the other girl he impregnated twice.

Millions may buy you expensive mansions in Malibu.

Millions may buy you acrylic nails and weaves for your stick-straight hair– both of which tend to look nasty and cheap really quickly if you don’t take good care of them and keep them up regularly.

Millions may buy you tens of security personnel and keep your momma and your daddy and your big bro and little sis around should you need them. 


Millions of dollars never bought anyone a shred of common sense or decorum– both of which are necessary to let EVERYONE IN AMERICA tell you that,

1) You married a sleazy, freeloading idiot who will cheat on you and burn through your cash like it’s the Amazonian rainforest;

2) Being a mother is far more than just popping out a child– ask any child who’s been adopted by loving people who have helped him or her become a wonderful human being without the need for knowing the biological parents.

3) If you don’t want pictures of you all over the news, DO NOT GO OUT WITH AN ENTOURAGE!  DO NOT GO OUT EVERY DAY IN VISIBLE PLACES!  DO NOT GO OUT TO SAFEWAY FOR CHEETOS! DO NOT GO OUT FOR A WHILE!  Just don’t…. don’t go out.  Stay at home and actually take care of the babies.

4) And if you don’t want all of America thinking that you are a classless bimbo who needs to wax her anus…. DO NOT GO OUT WITHOUT PANTIES ON AND A VERY SHORT SKIRT AND THEN ATTEMPT TO GET OUT OF A CAR!

What are you, STUPID*?  Seriously. 

If this is your idea of a joke, though, then BRAVO!  You have us all in thrall with your actions.  You must be dumb as a fox. 

But seriously I doubt it.  Let’s just say that your record doesn’t hold up that theory.

Please just go put on some pants and go away.  Just.  Go.  Away.

* Yes, I meant to use "stupid," people.  There is nothing wrong with the word "stupid" when used in their proper context– the context being that Britney Spears is mentally not very sharp.  Thank you, Answers.com!

stu·pid (stūpĭd, styū) pronunciation
adj., -er, -est.

  1. Slow to learn or understand; obtuse. (check)
  2. Tending to make poor decisions or careless mistakes. (check)
  3. Marked by a lack of intelligence or care; foolish or careless: a stupid mistake. (um…. not entirely sure)
  4. Dazed, stunned, or stupefied. (check)
  5. Pointless; worthless: a stupid job. (not sure…)


A stupid or foolish person. (<—-Britney!)

[Latin stupidus, from stupēre, to be stunned.]

This entry was published on November 28, 2006 at 4:24 pm and is filed under Herr Meow!, Pop Culture. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

One thought on “Day 364/Britney Needs Pants

  1. Happy 1st Birthday and Happy 1st mommy anniversary.
    Have yourself a big piece of cake!

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