by Mild Davis
Oh Brit-Brit. It's hard to believe you're gone from our lives and gossip blogs forever. Your life burned fast and bright, much like a 25 cent sparkler from South of the Border. But, before we say our final goodbyes, let's take a look back at your meteoric rise to top and historic plunge into the dumpster.
On a humid night in Kentwood, LA in 1981, Jamie and Lynn Spears got boozed up and soiled the back of a rusted out 1974 conversion van with their stench of their lovemaking. The coital scene smelled of seafood, cheap beer and shattered dreams. If only they had know what that broken condom would unleash on the world. Thanks a lot, hillbillies.
In 1990, despite the will of God himself, she somehow escaped her bayou purgatory and worked her way up the child star ladder from Star Search (which she lost) to the big leagues at the Mickey Mouse Club. At MMC, she shared the stage with fellow future stars Justin Timberlake, Keri Russell, JC Chasez, Ryan Gosling and Christina Aguilera, none of who ended up being total fucktards like Brit. Faster than you can say "you want another helpin' of possum," Britney became mommy and daddy's golden ticket to the Chocolate Factory. The family packed up the trailer and headed to the big city where people use words with more than four letters and somehow brush their teeth every day. The writing was on the wall.
After a few years under the radar, she came back in 1998 with new boobs and an exposed midriff and took over America like a guy named Leroy will take your manhood on your first night in prison. Leaving no cliché sexual fantasy untapped, this virgin ("tha butt don't count, ya'll") was on top of the world. She was also at the top of the "People I Think About When I Work My Gherkin" list for boys between 12 and 15 in 1998 and 1999. She and her high-sangin' beau, Justin Timberlake, were America's blonde blue-eyed sweethearts. But, they weren't doing 'it' so I don't know what he saw in her. What a cock tease.
Following rumors she porked some random dude in 2002, she split with JT in and got down with the freaky deaky hardcore style. And it was about god damn time. This was WAY more like it! It's widely believed that she didn't wear anything but a bra and some boyshorts from November of 2002 to March of 2003. Between sucking face with Madonna, seeing how small of a bra she could cram her cans into and giving me sexy looks all the time, you couldn't get away from Britney in 2002 and 2003. Without the shackles of her former chastity, Brit was free to work more wood than Bob Villa on This Old House. It is estimated that upwards of 4% of the male population in the Los Angeles metro area engaged in some sort of sexual act with her in this 24 month span.
But then it happened. Just like her mama always promised her it would. She met her Prince Charming. He was a backup dancer in a dirty wife beater and smoked Newports. How could a girl not love that in a man? Mr. Kevin J. Federline and Ms. Britney Jean Spears were wed on September 18th 2004 and Satan's unholy prophesy was finally realized. Britney wasted no time in letting her hillbilly instincts take the helm and managed to squeeze out two bundles of sadness and regret in less than three years. The couple was bound to last forever, due to their common interests of unprotected sex, cigarettes and Manwich. They quickly became national royalty, kinda like our generation's JFK and Jackie O. Except, our generation is way more into Red Bull, Halo and lip gloss rather than lame ass crap like civil rights and world peace. Fucking hippies.
But, fate has a funny way of rearing its bald head. The Federline/Spears union crapped out like a wet fart in 2006. Let's just say Britney didn't take it well. Her post K-fed activities included flashing the kitty, pills, shaving things other than her va-jay-jay, pills, attacking paparazzi with blunt objects, pills, comparing thongs with gay black guys, not hanging out with her kids and pills. She attempted a brief comeback in the music world which consisted of a hot pink bra, a fur boa, backup dancers voluntarily ruining their careers and some serious muffin top action. When Us Weekly says you need help, listen the fuck up. They ain't bullshitting. Just because they exploit your life's trials and tribulations for profit, it doesn't mean that they don't care.
Then, like Hiroshima, Britney dropped the crazy bomb. We thought we'd seen it all (well, technically, we did see most of it) but Britney had a few surprises left in her hair extensions. Trick Daddy loves da kids, but that wasn't Brit's bag. So she gave up on the kids, and embraced crazy as her new family. Legal battles, flings with paparazzi, donuts stuck in her esophagus and collecting wigs became her day to day regime. Without any blind hope of making any kind of comeback, Brit was finally allowed to explore the deep end and all it has to offer. She took up new hobbies like riding in ambulances that go "woo woo woo" and getting fat. But, the good times finally caught up with the faded pop princess. Since I haven't heard anything about her in almost a week now, I have no other choice but to assume she's finally kicked the bucket and gone to that giant Starbuck's in Hell.
She brought new meaning to the phrase 'bat shit crazy' and made it look good most of the time. She'll be missed. Hopefully her preggo sister can fill the void left on my celeb gossip blogs. Those Spears' genes run deep, ya'll.
Wait...What? What do you mean she's not dead??? No fucking way! There is no way she's still breathing!! Really?!? You're positive? Double positive? Well, I'll be damned. Oh well, we'll just post it again next week. She's gotta be near the finish line at this point.