Just sat through an inane Godard movie. I love stupid crap, but I prefer straight forward campy, three minute pop songs to two hour movies about hookers walking around as a narrator whispers about ‘spaces.’ I prefer low taste shit, like Britney Spears singing about how her image imprisoned her; she needs to run away to have babies (go cray). Which is what she obviously meant when she wrote the line “Cinderella has got to go.” (Yes, she wrote this one. Google it.) Ms. Spears>Mr. Godard, cause if you’re going to be that over the top, you should keep it to three minutes. Just ask Ms. Spears. She’s made hella more than Mr. Godard.
My pop culture illiterate housemates get mad at me for blasting Blackout when I cook. Their disdain for pop culture annoys me because one of them had never heard of Whitney Houston till she died. You can’t hate on Britney and Whitney till you try them! On a side note: Britney Spears could fucking dance back in the day, y’all.
I would pay millions to watch Stevie Nicks cover this. Ironically, the only single Britney Spears ever wrote is her least “Britney” like song.
A.) Every time I see a white girl drunk in a club vomiting on a bouncer, I think, “If her helicopter parents had listened to “Overprotected” in the context of those pictures of Britney Spears striping on a pole at a gay club, then maybe their daughter wouldn’t have grown up to be the DARK Britney Spears.”(Because she’s totes the Dark Phoenix from X-Men!)
B.) HOW EERIE IS THE BALD BRITNEY AT THE START OF THIS VIDEO? HER DIRECTOR WAS A FUCKING PROPHET!!!
C.) Posts like these are why my date with that fact checker from The New Yorker was a #failure.
Above: my fingers open the hole shop lifters left in the Nirvana sweater my sixteen year old sister bought me from the mall for Christmas.
I hate shoplifters (my parents’ pet stores loss thousands because of teens who stole puppies), so this is my first sweater emblazoned with the lifter’s symbol. I would’ve worn this same sweater as a fourteen year old. (I owned this sweater as a shirt in middle school.) A fourteen year old made this sweater forever his or her’s: the hole represents their misdemeanor offense. (Hot Topic charges criminals, y’all!)
Although my cheeks grow facial hair and my high school friends now work as strippers (the living room in the background belongs to one such stripper), I still dress the same and ask my lifelong hair dresser, Cherry, to shape my bangs so they hang toward the left. Only difference is the badge of teenage rebellion, the lifter symbol/Angela Chase style woes, shows in the juxtaposition of my stubble against my Nirvana sweater instead of in my grumpy, Courtney Love singing baby-face.
Walking through a mall, people will think I’m a loud mouthed shop lifter who never grew up. “He’s a townie and community college junkie,” they’ll say. I’m neither (I’ve never even smoked weed), yet in many ways I’m still a loud mouth queer punk: I listen to the same music; read the same kind of books; look up to the loud mouths from the past who saved me from drug addicted family members during adolescence (Courtney Love, Britney Spears in 07, and Christopher Isherwood); and piss my peers off, because I speak my mind.
Even as a five year old who wore mismatched Gymboree outfits, my clothing represented those facts.
I thought I would find myself in my twenties, 2011 included. I thought I would change my looks, but all I’ve learned is that I am who I am, and I like myself. I need to accept to love flaws like my inability to match. Without my cons, I lack my pros: without my snarkiness that alienates peers I look up to, I’d lack my friends who turn to me for my honesty.
Let’s accept each other for whom we are in 2012. Happy New Years, y’all.
Watching Crossroads for the first time. The movie actually represents how post high school graduation works. WEIRD.
There’s a few Britney Spears traditions—revealing costumes, fast food trips, and remixed singles to name a few. Personally, I prefer the original versions of “Crazy” and “Boys”; they sound more Janet Jackson, more R&B, and their bridges are emotional and woozy. But I’m loving the “Criminal” remix! I thought it sounded like an odd pick for a single—viva la “Break the Ice”—but hearing this mix makes me think Britney’s got a fourth “Femme Fatale era” hit on her hand. Tis the second golden age of Miss Britney Spears, bitches!
There was so much punk rock in the air during 2007. So much punk rock.
This is the campiest Britney Spears song. She’s singing to a diary. This belongs in a musical; she thinks it belongs on the radio. She wrote this song. This gay boy’s in heaven.
Yes, I look absolutely crazy right now, but that’s not my fault. Our apartment lacks central AC, and our AC on wheels is a piece of shit. Thought I’d provide y’all with an update on my life.
I’m taking a break from revising my novel, because in the last week revising the same sixty pages for the millionth time started to frustrate me. My friend, a novelist, told me to take a break and research my subject instead. So till the fall semester begins, I’m researching South Florida girls by interviewing old friends, roller skating with the muses, reading psychological studies and the literary works that made me decide that stories about teenagers are the best stories of all—Perks of Being A Wallflower, Judy Harry Potter, and Judy Blume novels—and revisiting Buffy Summers, Veronica Mars, and Angela Chase—the television heroines that sparked so much love, empathy, and hope for me during my darkest adolescent days, which is what I hope my novel will one day do for the confused gay boys and girls who watch The Hills and read Tolstoy with equal amounts of affection.
My childhood best friend has lived with me all week, which has sparked my interest in writing an article about stripping. A recession era college student, she started stripping to pay her bills. Really, what other job would pay her enough to pay for college? Hostessing? Camp counseling? Nope! I thought stripping would deteriorate her self-esteem and body image, but it’s actually made her a more confident person—possibly even happy for the first time in the eight years I’ve known her. She also has a very different feminist view on stripping then the ones I’ve heard from Diablo Cody and historians of Victorian Europe.
Another article I’m working on is a review of the Britney Spears/Nicki Minaj/Joe Jonas concert I attended on Friday, which was the least fun but most intellectually engaging pop spectacle I’d ever seen.
