Yes, It Gets Even Worse

In my younger years, I eagerly perused the tabloids closely while waiting in line at the supermarket, finding the sensational headlines paired with awful photos perversely pleasurable. Lately, however, I can barely muster up the interest to give the newsstands a glance; at this point, I feel I've heard it all in terms of celebrity gossip, tired of the same recycled trash. The most recent Us Weekly cover, however, certainly caught my attention:


No, it wasn't just Zac Efron giving himself a mammogram in the top right corner. (He sat immediately behind me on a roller coaster at Six Flags, though I didn't know his name until I looked it up later. It goes without saying that it was one of the most significantly insignificant events of my life.) But that cover story, my goodness, how over the top can they get? While the headline, "My Twisted Night With Brit" immediately clues us in that there's bound to be defamatory content, it was the subheading that made me chuckle aloud: "Yes, it gets even worse." IT'S LIKE US WEEKLY IS SAYING WHAT WE'RE THINKING! I mean, not really, but that bit of editorializing is certainly comical. And just when you think the following line could not get any better, the three most beautiful adjectives that could ever be juxtaposed begin the next sentence: "Topless, drunk and lonely." I think if we're being honest, we'd all admit to being topless, drunk, and lonely at some point in our lives. But we're not being honest, we're being judgmental, so seeing Britney in such a condition is deplorable.

I feel most sorry for the victims. Firstly, there's the unidentified college student. They don't just let anyone in to college, you know? He's undoubtedly smart, the hope for the next generation. For such a person to be unfairly seduced at the hands of a lonely pop star, that's just uncalled for. Secondly, there's little Jayden. Did you not read the sidebar? HE'S OUT AT 10:30 PM! He's so sleep deprived, he's gnawing his own hand off. He must be malnourished. Where are Britty's titties when he needs a meal? Oh, apparently they're bare and bobbing in a pool, being groped by a frat boy rather than nursing. Thirdly, there's Kevin Federline. When I last "cared" about this drama, I'm pretty sure Kevin was labeled the scum of the earth by the media, yet now he's some freaking hero, "rush[ing] to save his boys." Certainly an interesting transformation: it's really gone that downhill for Brit, huh?

I've become so involved in this saga, I figured it was only appropriate to insert myself into the story.


While we're on the subject of Spears, (I'd like to just discuss it now so that I don't have to bring her up again), I failed to mention there was a fatality on our Claremont Grammarians float this past year. In her second consecutive year in the parade, Britney brought up the rear, delicately pronouncing "Ain't ain't a word!"


Michael Michael takes issue with this sign, citing that "ain't" technically is a word since it's in the dictionary. I actually agree with this reasoning, but the Grammarians are parody: I don't truly believe that "fragments fragment families" for that matter. In my opinion, Britney has as pivotal a part to the crew as the grammar mannequin. Unfortunately, somewhere along the route, Britney, unseen by the cheering Grammarians, apparently detached from the truck and was most likely trampled to death by those miserable junior high cheerleaders.

It's been tough parting with her. That flashy Britney banner was one of my first ever thrift store buys, purchased five years ago. I got it because it portrayed her as exceedingly innocent and I found it ironic considering her image transformation. At that point, it was amusing since she exposed a lot of cleavage and probably wasn't a virgin -- I'm not sure what I would have thought if I had known one day she'd devolve to the condition of "topless, drunk and lonely."

At college, I proudly hung the banner outside of my window. Since the student body was decidedly anti-mainstream and against everything Spears stands for, I got a kick out of displaying it in a high-pedestrian-traffic area. Occasionally, someone would mention, "Can you believe someone has a Britney Spears poster on the dorm?" I would laugh, and confess that it was mine, at which point its presence became acceptable because its intent was a parody of your more typical college campus rather than a celebration of her image and music. A couple of months ago when Andrew learned it was mine, he guffawed. Evidently, when he was considering coming to the college, he saw the sign and thought twice about coming to an institution with such a decoration. Knowing that actually makes me regret hanging in the first place, actually, because if someone awesome like Andrew was so turned off by it, there might be some other prospective students with whom the same Britney poster was a factor in them not coming and, consequently, me missing out on their friendships, all for some dumb Britney joke.

During my junior year when I lived in a different dormitory building, I hung the same banner from my second story balcony. It wasn't as a prime as a location as the previous year, so I didn't hear anymore comments about it. Well, not of the verbal variety, anyway. One day, I spotted a sizable brown stain on the Britney banner. I alerted a friend and thought it funny that someone would throw mud at her, a clear gesture of eir displeasure toward the singer. When I made an attempt to clean it, however, I fast discovered it was not mud. No, mud doesn't smell like shit. Shit smells like shit, though. At first my suitemates doubted that someone would throw poop at the banner until I challenged them to take the sniff test. Thereafter, everyone had to concede, someone threw shit at Britney. I'm not quite sure who would be so upset that they would poop, or perhaps find and handle poop, then throw it at Britney, but I'm guessing they were drunk. Maybe lonely. And likely topless. At least that's one college student that didn't give in to the seductions of Britney.

RIP Britney Banner.