When I was 11 years old Baby One More Time debuted and I knew, instantly, that I wanted to be a slut. JUST KIDDING. A stripper. Obviously, a stripper.
I kid, I kid. I don't have the body to be a stripper! Actually maybe I do. I once ordered a stripper, for my friend's 18th birthday and, for some reason, even though her lower half looked BANGING in the magazine, when she arrived she was about 50lbs overweight, pickled in nicotine and Jergen's tanning lotion whilst breastfeeding an infant whom she kept in her car while she performed...
I distinctly remember sneaking out of my friend's house to have a chat with her before we snuck her in (she was dressed as a police officer to scare the shit out of him before taking off her pants and, clearly, scaring him even more), and being extremely confused that she was waiting in a light blue minivan riddled with rusty lesions and not, as I had assumed, in a cool low- end sports car with a bedazzled license plate. I knocked on the window hesitantly as a mop of box-dyed bleach blonde hair revealed itself in an old timey fashion with the stripper cranking down the window at an achingly slow pace. When she finally revealed herself, she ended up looking more like a Raisenette than a stripper, and attached to her was a small child suckling at her tit, exhaling billows of smoke with each release from her nipple.
Truthfully, however, that story has nothing to do with my post but I just remembered how hilarious that experience was and also inspirational for us chubs who wanna take off our clothes for money (and how I, retrospectively, probably should've called child services).
Anyway, after Baby One More Time premiered, I felt like I had discovered my idol (move over Mariah). This girl could dance, her body was amazing and I was young enough to believe that I could somehow grow up and look just like her (clearly, we're now twins). But somewhere between cheating on Justin, having children with a human ferret, quitting dancing and showcasing a full blown mental breakdown, I lost interest. But I always carried her in my heart as my first ever girl crush and motivation to dance my balls off at every opportunity I got. And secretly, I hoped that one day she would return to her rightful place as the most mediocre worldwide sensation there ever was. And then, it happened. She got her body back, her mental health in check, a Vegas show and a comeback album that is slaaaaying.
So the second she was on the James Cordon show I was on that shit like a cat in heat...And, unfortunately, incredibly disappointed. Here's why:
1) Britney doesn't know the lyrics to her most famous songs...Those bi-po meds must be melting her brain.
2) She kept her sunglasses on for 85% of the ride (YES I CALCULATED!), and you KNOW those windows be tinted. It's not like James has magical polarized eyes.
3) She explains that she wants to have three more children "when she finds the right guy". Which she then follows with the statement "I'm done with men". Perhaps she meant the right guy at the sperm bank...?
4) Her face is starting to look like something created by Aardman Animations. Easy on the lift and tuck Brit-Brit
5) The thought of James saying anything mildly provocative makes her squeamish in a very conservative Southern Baptist kind of way even though she writhes on stage in less material than my dog wears during the winter.
6) She said 'supposably'.
7) She then said she was a straight A student growing up...But she was homeschooled in Louisiana... so let's just play along and say that it happened, supposably. Also, straight A's in Kindergarten don't count.
8) Her children have seen her show and "know that it's just mommy performing"...Which I'm sure strippers say to their kids too.
9) She got her body back meaning she's completely mobile, but somehow still refuses to dance, instead marching around doing body rolls and throwing her arms out with every beat. GIVE US A JANET DANCE BREAK FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
10) I can't think of anything else, but 9 reasons were traumatizing enough.
TRA LA LA LA LAAAAA!!!Suggest a correction