#231 In which our hero, shockingly, sympathizes with a train wreck of a pop princess.
Sometimes there are elements of my life that dovetail in a seemingly seamless fashion. Take, for instance, my deep love of schadenfreude and my deep hatred of spoiled and idiotic pop stars.
The epitome of two things are manifest perfectly in the person of Britney Spears.
Now, given my previous rant about a certain worthless celebrity heiress, it should come as no surprise that I hate Britney Spears. Well, hate is a strong word… it’s more like I’m offended by the fact that this thing lives on the same planet as my family.
And make no mistake, Britney Spears is a thing, not a person. She stopped being just a simple girl from the country once people started referring to her by a single name only and obsessing about her every action. Every time she leaves the house it’s an event. Everything she says is a headline. She’s no longer just a musician just like Ikea is no longer just furniture. Both of them have far surpassed their original purpose.
And you could argue that none of this spectacle is Spears’ making. She clearly been carefully cultivated, groomed, styled and packaged as an American pop star to make music that tweens go crazy for with just enough T&A to attract an older audience. It’s only recently, when she’s escaped her handlers, that her career has really gone off the rails and she’s become the hideously watchable train wreak that she is now.
Personally, I never really got Britney. I mean, her music was catchy enough, but I wasn’t the target demo, so no surprises that I didn’t rush out and buy her albums. And I never found her that sexy, either. She’s a little horsy, I think (and I thought this before her well-reported weight gain).
You could say I’m just jealous… which, of course, I am. I mean, who wouldn’t want to make $700,000/month, and turn around and spend $16,000/month on clothes and nearly $5,000 just on eating at fancy restaurants? The Scientist and I maintain a weekly grocery budget of about $100, and every once in awhile treat ourselves by eating out at Red Robin.
Yet, as much as I enjoy the flood of schadenfreude I experience every time I see her latest downward progression in the entertainment section of the paper; recently I’ve been feeling something new, something different about Britney Spears.
Which is nothing short of amazing, of course. Now, don’t get me wrong, she’s clearly as dumb as a box of rocks, so I have no sympathy whatsoever when she gets busted for driving without a license, or goes to rehab or has her kids taken away from her (apparently she’s a bad mother, too… another strike). But, when I see a video of her up on The Superficial (my go-to site for celebrity gossip and boobie pictures) I can’t help but feel a little bad for her. I mean, look at this:
She is literally swarmed by paparazzi jamming their cameras in her face, blinding her with flashes. Every walk from car to store is like swimming against the current of a raging river.
Or look at this:
She can’t pull out of a parking garage without these dumbasses literally jumping in front of a moving vehicle.
It’s got to be difficult living in the public eye like that. Having 25 guys crowding you every step of the way. I know she courted public attention to a large degree… but does anyone really expect this level of abuse when they’re sitting in a recording studio making music? Or having their agent tell them how awesome they are?
I dunno. As shitty as it would be to have this tide of cameras record my daily routine, I gotta think that $700,000 a month would sooth that wound somewhat.
I for one, am willing to give it a try.