September 22, 2004



The recurring "Your Moment of Britney" series actually pre-dates the Salad bowl. When I worked at (Motto: A fraction of the news, with all the layoffs.), I found out that a co-worker, Jolie, liked Britney Spears. When I say "liked," I mean from a pop culture circus point of view, not from an artistic and aesthetic vantage point.

I shared the same morbid fascination, so whenever I heard something juicy that seemed to indicate that either a personal meltdown or a professional train wreck was afoot, I'd throw it at her in an e-mail and then we'd pelt each other with instant messages for about an hour or so, or until the wave of jazzy guffaws finally subsided. It was probably as close as I'll ever get to my teenage years.

Once the Salad thing got started, I decided to revive it. Jolie and I continue to pelt each other on occasion with ridiculous bits of information, even though we haven't worked together for about 4 years.

So it was with warm sentiment that I welcomed this missive from her, a copy of a GQ article in the most recent edition, I'm told. "The one with Justin Timberlake on the cover,'' she adds.

It's fairly hilarious - and borderline precognitive, when you consider it was written months before Britney remarried:

Dear Britney Spears,

Sit down honey. We gotta talk. Wanna Diet Mountain Dew and a watermelon Bubblicious? Cheddar Ruffles and a Kool? Sure. Knock yourself out.

What happened Britney? Once, you were the pubescent light of our lives, the lip-synching fire of our loins. Talentwise, we never confused you with Maria Callas, or even Maria Conchita Alonso, but you were sexy, precocious, and ambitious: Madonna meets JonBenet. You made a couple of good songs - we really like I'm a Slave 4 U, we didn't care what anyone said - and you were America's ranking pop princess. Britney versus Christina? Britney versus Christina was like Reagan versus Mondale.

But now we're worried. Your reputation's plunging faster than Courtney Love's blood sugar. Your latest album was a dissappointment. You canceled your summer tour because of a bum knee. Your 55-hour ex-husband squealed to the tabloids about hot Britney sex. While Christina was catwalking Dsquared in Milan, you were catwalking Cinnabons in Santa Monica. And you're doing what you always do when you're feelin' down: You're getting married.

You look sad, honey. We saw photos of you and your mom having a run-in with the paparazzi at a pet shop. You cried and your mascara ran so much you looked like Tammy Fay Baker watching Terms of Endearment. Michael Moore filleted you in Fahrenheit 9/11, showing you saying, "Honestly, I think we should just trust our president in every decision that he makes", Good grief, Britney. Thinking like that got Monica Lewinsky a Montecristo between the thighs. You know how bad it's gotten, Britney? Here's who's hotter than you: Hoobastank.

And getting married isn't going to solve anything. We're sure this Kevin Federline is a sweet young man with a bright, bright future, but look at him. Baggy clothes, tilted baseball cap, permanent scowl - the George Clooney of the food court. We won't even mention that K-Fed's already a babydaddy or that he left his babymama for you with another baby on the way. We'll let Jerry Springer sort that baby drama out (Oh, and Kevin, Vanilla Ice called - he wants his sideburn back.) To think we had all freaked out about Fred Durst...

We know what you're thinking. We know you are 22 and you're entitled to make a 22-year-old's mistakes. But when we were 22, our mistakes usually involved drinking Jack Daniel's after pineapple pizza. But this is GQ, we know how to give advice, and less than 75 percent of it is about ties (Halfway down the belt buckle, K-Fed, in case you're wondering.) Here are some tips to get that career of yours back on track.

FOCUS ON MUSIC. Like your idol, Madonna, you've never done so well when you've branched out into other areas. That New York restaurant, NYLA? We ate there. Ducasse meets Denny's. Your movie, Crossroads. The best we can say is that it was no Kangaroo Jack.

REINVENT THYSELF. Now, Madonna knew about this one. No one thinks you should become, say, a singer, but it may not be a bad idea to recast your musical image. Maybe ditch the dance pop for acid rock, country, or crunk. You don't even have to be convincing. Look at Ashless Simpson - she's now a punk rocker. Ashlee Simpson's about as punk-rock as Lynne Cheney's underwear drawer.

MAKEOVER. You knew this one was coming. Britney, we love ya, but sometimes you dress like one of those fine ladies we see on Cops, getting arrested for smoking methamphetamine in the 7-eleven parking lot.

A NEW BOY. We know it's in poor taste, but we can't resist. Here's just a quick rundown of eligible bachelors we think may be good for you: Ben Affleck; Mike Piazza; Ralph Nadar; Nathan Lane; that Senate-candidate guy in Chicago who blew it because of the sex clubs; John Stamos; David Lee Roth; David Gest; and our assistant editor Kevin - his parents have a Mercedes and let him drive it on weekends.

Britney, we want you to be happy. No one wants to see you train-wreck your career and become the next Liz Taylor (Okay, maybe E! True Hollywood Story and US Weekly wouldn't mind.) We want you to rediscover that joy you had as a schoolgirl in kneesocks, singing Hit me baby one more time and discover there is life after teen pop. After all, look who's on the cover.

With love,


P.S. Yes, you can have one more piece of Bubblicious.


Britney takes a groom. Again.

Britney defends her latest love.

Britney marries a childhood friend. For 50 hours.

Britney swaps spit with the Rosetta Stone of Skank.

Britney poses for photos that make her look even more plastic and lifeless than she already is.

Britney, as she would look if she hit the all-you-can-eat Seafood Lovers Special at Red Lobster every night for six months.

Britney runs a restaurant into the ground.

Britney has an evil twin available for parties.

Britney and George cut a rug.

Britney proves the axiom: Beer affects the way males respond to females.

Posted by Jeff at September 22, 2004 06:10 AM | TrackBack

Oooh, yes, Britney and John Stamos would be fabulous together. He'd make puppy-dog faces while watching her videos; she'd vamp around the kitchen and bring him Tanqueray and tonics; he'd buy her enormous bouquets of emo-boy flowers(gerbera daisies and crap); she'd give him what looks suspiciously like a Kabbalah bracelet only in a manly blue.

A beautiful thing.

Posted by: r* at September 22, 2004 09:50 AM