Column:
From schoolgirl to soldier
Published Feb. 23, 2007
In one beautifully quick, tear-stained, prescription-induced act of sheer insanity, Britney Spears shaved her own head at a Sherman Oaks, Calif., salon. Most of you have already heard this news.
I just wanted to offer you the opportunity to hop in your mental time machines to January 1999. It was at that point in history that a 17-year-old Spears released her chart-topping debut album "...Baby One More Time."
At this point, Spears did not yet look like G.I. Jane, or as I saw her this week, G.I. Pass-the-paper-towels-because-I-just-yakked-all-over-my-computer-screen. Instead she had teenage girls squealing and lip-synching with pubescent delight and with Viagra having been introduced just 10 months prior, males ages 9 to 99 squirming uncomfortably in their seats.
Gasoline was cheap, the Buffalo Bills were still playoff contenders and an eighth-grader named Matt Mitchell was hungover from watching the "(You Drive Me) Crazy" video all night and not from jungle juice mixed in his bathtub. Yes, loyal readers, the end of the 20th century was a glorious time to be alive.
Now back to today, when a gallon of gas costs more than a gallon of dinosaur embryos, my football team is a joke and Britney looks like a Mojo's regular at closing time. Even her dopey, droopy-eyed look reminds me of one of my closest friends.
This friend once got so drunk he removed the surgical stitches in his right shoulder with a toenail clipper. He has tried to break all the plates in his house by throwing them out the back door like Frisbees.
Coincidentally, a few weeks ago at a house party, he got so blitzed that he shaved his head as well.
So congratulations, Brit. You went from the starring role in a million men's lustful daydreams to having a bunch of stuff in common with a guy nicknamed "Sasquatch." Can you hear me from down at rock bottom?
I was pretty surprised that this story even made the news at all, let alone major network news for a continued period of time. Britney's last original album came out in fall 2003 during my first semester of college at MU.
And while my life was taking a dramatic upswing, her shallow existence would soon be handed a shovel and commanded to dig even further down. Now she is known less for her catchy pop lyrics and more for her propensity to flash her hoo-ha in public.
I have to confess, at this point in the column I was tempted to include an incredibly juvenile, irreverent joke comparing Spears' you-know-what with her head. But I'm above that sort of thing now. Let's just move on.
How could someone who was virtually untouchable just a few years ago now be looked upon like that helpless strung-out relative making out with a second cousin at Thanksgiving?
Well, it seems to be the usual tiger traps of the rich and female. But her forays into booze, pills, coke, lesbian displays and tabloid-documented thigh expansion were only the tip of the iceberg.
Most people know that you can have a carefully polished public image and still give it up to Justin Timberlake. Hell, we're all guilty of that. But I didn't tell a magazine about it. That's not a veteran move, Britney.
But what is a veteran move is knocking up a woman worth more than $100 million. That's where Kevin Federline swoops in. Next thing we know she's had two of his kids, and their divorce means she'll be paying for his Thickburgers and HBO the rest of her life.
It just goes to show that you don't have to be smart, good-looking, well-bred or even literate to make a decent living — just opportunistic and willing to settle for less.
Now, does anybody have Pink's number?
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