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Subject:The Thing About Britney Spears.
Time:12:17 am
[Mother of God. I thought I'd done all the birthday drinking I owed this past Saturday. But then after several rounds of Yebisu at Matsuhisa, girlfriend drags me to a bar where my friends have a gallon bottle of Goose waiting. As soon as my liver saw that thing, it turned around and ran, but it was too late. Therefore, legally speaking, I bear no responsibility for the following entry.]




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During lunch a few days ago, a coworker mentioned something completely repulsive that she’d seen on “The Man Show.” A member of the studio audience had lost a game and therefore had to drink a shot glass filled with human sweat. It gets even more disgusting: the sweat was squeezed out of the drenched shirt of a hairy fat guy who’d been running on a treadmill.

So of course I had to ask my friends later in the day if they could do the same thing. Some, like me, wouldn’t do it under any circumstances. One said she’d rather do a shot of man juice than eat a live bug. Then it was Squiggy’s turn.

“Would you drink a shot of sweat if it came from Britney Spears?” someone asked, knowing his extreme fondness for the singer.

“Hell I’d eat her shit,” he replied.

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To this day, I still don’t know what the fuss is about. Britney, why?

Christina Aguilera’s a better singer, Mandy Moore’s much cuter and Jessica Simpson’s got bigger, more convincing titters. All have managers and publicists who are experts at “selling the product.” And yet none of them approach her level of fame and fortune. Not even close.

Take, for instance, that over-hyped girl-on-girl action on MTV. All the media attention focused on Britney kissing Madonna. It was as if Christina wasn’t even on the same stage as them, and of course she’s not. Britney, like Madonna, is a superstar … without superstar talent. Christina, on the other hand, appears to be turning into a Mariah clone, and that’s obviously not a good thing.

Frankly I haven’t given it much thought – this is Livejournal after all, and not “The Economist,” plus thinking makes my brain cry. But this is my highly unedumacated theory as to why Squiggy, as well as Rog and many other buddies of mine, would eat Britney’s poo:

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Certain people have copious amounts of what I call “media” chemistry. You’ve all seen the puzzling effects of “live” chemistry: that’s when you see a friend show up with her new boyfriend who’s dumb, ugly and broke. “What the hell was she thinking?” you ask her best friend, who seems equally baffled. “She doesn’t know either,” she replies. “But she said they just clicked.”

Britney’s that dumb, ugly, broke guy. Only her chemistry got to you through her videos, Pepsi commercials and magazine spreads. Notice how I left out songs. Her only two decent hits were “I’ma Slave 4 U” and, of course, “Hit Me Baby One More Time.” (Interesting how they both have this masochistic thing going on, but that’s a whole ‘nother entry which I’m not going to write.) Neither measure up to Madonna’s “Like A Virgin” and “Material Girl.”

But despite the fact that she’s not the prettiest, most talented or breastiest, you two just clicked.

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[Following a recent livejournal trend, I'm headed out to Hawaii tomorrow. Will be back in a few. In the mean time you should really hit the movie theaters this weekend, 'cause there are some good ones coming out including "Matchstick Men," "Once Upon A Time In Mexico," "Lost In Translation," and "Cabin Fever."]


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