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| Last night I prank called Mandy Moore and told her to 'suck it'. |
Britney, Britney, Britney. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. If this sonnet seems odd to you or even (dare I say) sacrilegious to those of us who own and enjoy good quality music, please allow me to explain myself. (And stop being so damn elitist, ok?) Britney Spears is the comeback kid, the little engine that could and the bravest little toaster all rolled up into one bedazzled glittery ball. Try as the media has (not to mention lucidity, Kevin Federline and coherent choreography) to keep her down, she just keeps rising to the top. Be honest, you thought Christina Aguilera was going to win this battle way back in 1998, didn't you? No matter. Brit-Brit hasn't allowed any of the naysayers to keep her down. She's bi-winning on a daily basis and I for one am happy to see her shine. Here's why:
- She's not a teenybopper anymore in the music world which is (let's be honest) kind of a requirement in today's music industry. For Britney to continue to make the type of music that she does while managing to be a mother and over the age of twenty-five is a daring feet indeed. Sure other artists do it (arguably better), but Brit-Brit continues to push out hit music that is only ever going to get heavy rotation on the radio stations that market to the teen and young adult crowd. She completely refuses to change her format and for that, I can only respect the broad. For better or worse, her music is still as plastic, bubbly and vapid as it was when she first put on that Catholic school girl uniform and asked her man to hit her baby one more time---whatever that means. Her music has never been great. I'm not trying to draw any comparisons to Joni Mitchell or Bob Dylan here. Still, the tunes are catchy and in a span of three minutes she's able to (still) hold her own with the likes of relative newcomers Nicki Minaj and Ke$ha. Her new roster of music (recently featured on Bravo for their new reality t.v. ads) is just the right mix of fist-bumping club music and Euro-dance trash. I simply can not get enough.
- Her Stage Presence (or should I say, lack thereof) has gone the way of the dodo bird, and I'm okay with that. Not everyone who sings along to Dance Until the World Ends will remember that this is the same chick who rocked it out hardcore at the VMA's with a (then) jaw-dropping performance where she stripped down to a glittery leotard. This was before the infamous triple kiss between her, Aguilera and their geriatric lover, Madge Ciccone from Boca Raton. And even longer before her Ambien-sponsored faux pillow fight with Rhianna last month for this year's show. For those who don't recall, a Britney Spears performance was always expected to be heavy on the choreography, lite on actual singing. This was our consolation prize of sorts for not ever being able to get a good live vocal performance out of her. (well except for this one)
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| Who needs to sing well anyway when you have abs like this. |
To tell you the truth, I don't really mind at all that she can't (or chooses not to, depending on which source you choose to believe) dance anymore. I kind of prefer this version of Britney. For the first time in a long time, I can enjoy her music and make up my own moves and not worry about what I look like dancing to it (running man, pada beret, followed by something that resembles a duck trying to have sex with a honey badger...) because whatever I am doing at the club has got to look better than the anemic routine some Wade Robson wannabe has created for the girl.
- Despite having enough money to hire an entire team of stylists and rent out the entire Vidal Sassoon studio, Brit-Brit has the worst 'do of any white woman I've ever seen. I don't know why I take such extreme pleasure in this. Maybe it is some form of latent reverse racism? Maybe I just like laughing at another chica's misfortune... but somewhere along the way Brit-Brit's weave went desperately off the (pun-intended) track. As a woman of color who now wears my hair in it's natural (and gloriously coiffed) state, I like to sit back and witness all the women who still defiantly cling to weave tracks, flat irons and curling irons, trying desperately to coerce their follicles into submission. You see, up until 2009, I was one of those woman! Every week I would reluctantly trudge over to the salon to have my mane relaxed, fried, dyed and laid to the side all in an attempt to pantomime the appearance of women who were blessed with that kind of hair naturally. And every week I would leave the salon wondering how long it would be before inclement weather, humidity or that new sassy newsboy cap I purchased from Urban Outfitters would destroy my new look. It would usually take less than an hour for me to be right back where I started from. What does any of this have to do with the price of Kool-Aid in Pakistan, you say? Well, ever since Brit-Brit took a Mac-three to her precious blond locks she's been having more bad hair days than good.
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| Like seriously, what is going on up there? |
Girl, I can relate. Well the old me anyway. The new me says "what grows out of my hair is good enough for me and whoever can't get with that can kiss a thousand pigeons and a dozen mongoose(would that be considered mongeese?)" I only wish that dear Mrs. Trawick would finally tell whoever it is that is charging her money to look like an extra in a Silk the Shocker video from 1999 to stop jacking her hair up like that. Until that day, I'll just have to sit back and watch her give Beauty Supply Store Yak hair a bad name.
- Reasons four and five: Her cutey-pie sons.
Anyways, that's all I have. Am I crazy for my love of all things Ms. Spears? The floor is yours.
--- Vanity in Peril
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