Sunday, September 12, 2010

Britt - 40oz of Schitzo liquid...once again.

This is a post from earlier, one that I did some revisions on, and one that is close to my heart.  I was reminded by it recently by the on going craziness and what most would consider just plain ol' whacked out on crack, washed down with a diet of 40oz schitzo liquids that Hollywood seems to be in love with.

For me, although some of my older posts I'd like to burn like a falsely accused witch of Salem, I won't, and some others I'd like to re-share, and...because there are times I haven't anything else to say, this is what you'll get.  

If there are any concerns or complaints about this post or any others, feel free to take it up with human resources at www.quityourbitchin'

That being said, enjoy!


I have a confession to make, and I figure I can let it be known here, since I know the secret won't get out since nobody reads my damn'd blog anyway.

Here goes. Deep breath...I have a secret obsession for Britney Spears.

Ms. Spears making an ass of herself.
So considering my age, my taste in music, my disdain for A-listers that have everything handed to them on the hood of golden plated Maserati, and then bitch and moan like spoiled rotten shits that they are, this revelation can only be summed up by quoting from one of the all time great movies, '"That makes as much sense as a poopy flavored popsicle."

But let me explain.

First off, she is beautiful. And sweet. I'm not saying that isn't the connection, because what real man doesn't love that hard body, the perfectly whitened teeth, the big boobs...heck, even the twangy southern drawl. All great reasons to want this woman. She has fame, she has a butt load of money, and she needs a driver (I could be that guy!). Brit seems like she needs a confident man that, sure, may not to the most financially sound guy, like myself, but could tell daddy to go shove it where the sun, the moon and the stars don't shine. Not someone who already has the fame and the fortune. Not a needy, skinny, dancing jerk-off like K-Fed (although, ladies, you absolutely need to see my moves).

No, those aren't the reasons that I have this on-the-edge of wanting to stalk her obsession, but you have to believe me when I say I never will, though. And for several good reasons, mostly that being that it's way too much trouble, what with the travel costs, tedius and tiresome hours hiding in the ficus trees, oh, and the small little detail of it being against the law. (Damn you lawmakers and your stalking laws!)

The real reason I have this fanatical pull toward her isn't that she's beautiful, talented and wealthy, but because she's crazy. Nutso! Whacked out of her skull! Let's have a lobotomy done up on her, kind of crazy!

And I love that!!! Any woman that would shave her head, I'm guessing to just show off exactly how much she is in need of Provac and rubber walls, is alright in my book. When she did this, I thought, 'My God, she reminds me of Ripley from Aliens! When is the drooling, big fanged monster gonna pop out out from her bosomy chest?

That kind of insanity could only bring excitement and fun to a mans life, right? The nights of being woken up from sound sleep with Britney hovering over you, with a soul jarring, demented look in her eyes, with a large shiny cleaver in her hand. Or the times when she takes just one too many Valium and then wants to 'go for a little drive.'
Get's me going just thinkin' about it.

Anyway, all that being said, and in closing, I have a little story I need to tell you. So one day, I decide I'd send her a shout out, just to say 'hi' and ask her just a tiny little favor. It seemed so outrageous at the time that I asked of her, I thought even I was crazy (I am, by the way) to bring it up. But being the trooper she is and probably the fact that she must like herself a real badboy like myself, she did it! Take a look. Find yourself the new Rolling Stone mag and take a good hard gander at the front cover. Right there, on the left side of her tight abs and just on the northern side of her taught little jeans was the tattoo! She must really love me!


  1. Are You Fucking Kidding Me? For you there is a real treat: They have manufactured a Real Doll that is the spitting image of Ms. Spears. Check our and you will find the pictures under the blog Lars and The Real Bore.

    I'm here to help.

    Deez Nuts,


  2. why didn't you just come to me with this? I mean we would have welcomed you into our family way more than k-douche. Plus we are tired of babysitting her. I will put a bow on her ass and ship her UPS ( we can't even use Fed ex now cause that's what we call him).

  3. Aww...that's nice. But if you're welcoming me in, then no shipment needed.

    BTW...I can make a mean strudel and fix windshields busted up by canoes.

  4. I really do miss the crazy Brit Brit. There's not another bitch out there that can rock the bald and swing an umbrella like she can.