Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about Britney Spears. The Britster has had quite the year, let me tell you! First of all, her revenge marriage isn’t working out exactly as she’d hoped. Second of all, she got knocked up right after her number one son was born. While my marriage wasn’t totally based on revenge, I totally understand what she’s going through, really (even though I didn’t even meet my husband at the Circle K, promise. )
Our first babies were boys, and now we’re both expecting another child. Granted, my interval at three years seems a little more glacial than hers (Dear Federline, leave the poor girl alone for like two minutes!) at a little over a year. However, I understand, have ‘em while you can, Brit!
A couple of tales have come to light that I made me think of the solidarity of women. First, this story from Britney’s old pool boy:
“I was hanging out a little bit,” ex-employee Jon LaLanne told In Touch Weekly.
“She came out screaming at Kevin for lying around, then looked at me like I was
to blame.” The next day, LaLanne, says he got a call from Spears’ people, telling him not to report for work. LaLanne, son of the famed exercise guru Jack LaLanne, also has a band, and he says he and K-Fed would talk music. But, he claims, Spears would get jealous when her hubby talked to anyone else. “She wants Kevin on a leash,” LaLanne told the mag. “She fires everybody. I figured, ‘Why not me?’ I just didn’t expect her to be so mean.” He adds: “It’s a revolving door there. She’s not the nice person everyone thinks she is.”
Dear Mr. LaLanne, if you’re hanging around talking to Kev-bo that means that the pool is NOT getting any cleaner. Frankly, I’m with Britney. I don’t think it was mean of her to fire the pool boy. Mean would have been to shove his lazy-no-good-mug into the pool filter and ask him how he liked pool cleaning NOW. Maybe that’s not even mean. Mean should involve a quarter-race between the pool boy, a hyena, and a lion. Let’s see how far juicing gets you now. In any case, Britney, even if I had a pool-boy instead of a middle-aged female volunteer at my condo complex, I’d be on your side.
Sometimes, when you’re pregnant it’s all you can do to throw on any article of clothing to appear in public. I totally get that. Like this morning, even though I dressed in a cute BR skirt, red cami and crisp-ish white shirt, I committed a personally unpardonable sin…my feet hurt so I wore flip-flops. This might not seem like a big deal to you, but it’s a big deal to me. I might as well lay in my unwashed bed, surrounded by the detrius of weeks of poor housekeeping, open a bag of chee-tos (puffy, not crunchy,) wearing the shirt that still has frosting crunchies on it from a week ago, turn on a morning cocktail of Montell and Judge Joe Brown, and allow the drool to slow-hang from my mouth.
Britney Spears is ruining all of K-Fed’s fun. The pop star is making her aspiring rap star hubby, Kevin Federline, get rid of his pet sharks, according to Life & Style. Spears, who is expecting her second child with Federline, apparently fears that the six Australian gray nurse sharks are a bit risky when there are two kiddies around the house. “Kevin loves those sharks,” a family friend told the mag. “He even named them. But Brit said there’s no way he’d be keeping them.”
I understand that Kevin named the sharks. I understand that he loves them (the simian brain is more capable than we give it credit.) However, I also understand that if a toddler times two can climb to the top of the entertainment center, they can probably figure out how to climb into a fish tank. I empathize with Brit because I told Other Half that under no circumstances was he allowed to keep the pizza boxes that he’s fallen in love with. I know he’s named them (“Meat Fantastico Delight” and “Spectacular-Spectacular Hawaiian Dreams”) but enough is enough, the toddler times two could get in there and try to consume the congealed cheese scraps and maybe even the plastic center holder. They had to go.
Today I feel like I want to crawl under a rock and allow the life to slowly ebb from my adorable, yet pain-ridden self. Our Britney decided to take that day and go to a coffee place.
Then this horrendous incident came to light:
The Dukes of Hazzard star Jessica Simpson was rudely snubbed by pop star Britney
Spears backstage at the Teen Choice Awards on Sunday, when Simpson innocently asked if she could kiss Spears' pregnant belly. Simpson was hosting the show and the heavily pregnant Spears was there to introduce husband Kevin Federline's debut performance as a rapper. After Simpson made her request, Spears immediately shot back, "Hell, no!" A backstage witness confirms the incident saying, "Jessica was really insulted, but Britney refused to let her do it."
It’s not RUDE to stop walking venereal disease Jessica Simpson from kissing your belly, it’s your duty as a parent to stop that short-legged Domino shilling adulteress from getting near your developing child. What if—WHAT IF the kid came out with an inexplicable gift for cheesy Christian Rock and Double D’s that you just can’t hide—and it was a boy. You’d never forgive yourself. I’m imposing a two state restraining order on whore-lips Jessica.
Dear Britney, I totally understand.