poor popster

I'm a little behind the times on my celebrity gossip. A couple friends came over last night and refered to poor Britney and I fully agreed thinking they meant poor Britney- bad music, butt of all parenting jokes, trashy fashion sense, why do you dress your pets Britney. I shook my head sympathetically, because hey, no girl likes to see one of her own continually humiliated ala spotlight. My good friends then informed me that, as bad as that is, how can you possibly not know about the head shaving, car attacking, door pounding, rehab hopping Britney? Well, I didn't want to tell you, but I'm really a cloistered nun. And I forgot to renew our newspaper subscribtion since we've been back from Disney (yes, it's been a week....why do you ask?) Anyway, as much as I love to make fun of Tinsletown and it's pampered inhabitants, this did seem beyond finger pointing peals of laughter, even for me. You kind of wish the poor girl could just move to Switzerland and live her life away from all the staring eyes and gaping, ridiculing mouths. And to be honest, I'm surprised we don't see more graceless falls from the almighty pedestals we place these people on. Granted Britney's awkward stumble began some time ago, but seriously- I know I couldn't stay sane in that diamond crusted bubble (did I just mix metaphors? I'm so bad. The pedestal is in the bubble, OK? It works). Maybe what I really like to make fun of are the people who worship this false and glittered ideal. I suppose I could just not make fun of anyone, be it Hollywoodites or their faithful fans.

Aw, who am I kidding? Tom Cruise is just asking for it.

Angie