An Open Letter to Britney Spears

Dear Britney,

Hi! So, I've been thinking about you a lot, and there are some things I want to tell you. I'll bet your surprise appearance at the American Music Awards last night was fun. But I heard that you kicked it at Paris Hilton's after-party. This is the second time in, what, a week, that you've rolled with P-Hilt? What exactly are you up to?

Let me be clear. New weave? Hot. If I ever went blonde, I'd choose your shade of honey-caramel. Flat tummy? Boo yeah. I have a deep sense of respect for whoever is monitoring your ab workouts. Back in the studio? A thrill of anticipation ran down my spine when I first heard the news. Seriously. I effing lurve you, Spears.

But this BFF deal with Paris gets me a little queasy. It's not cause I don't heart Paris. I do. I mean, I really, really heart Paris. It's know when there are two crazy, insanely popular girls in your 4th grade class and you pray to God they don't become buds because if they do, they'd like, totally run the place and make life hell for everyone else? That probably never happened to you because you've never been a wallflower, and you were probably corn-fed sexy and popular even in the womb. But let me tell you from experience, it's never good when the wild ones from the A-group hang out on a regular basis. It causes ripple effects.

That's what this feels like. Your worlds should not be colliding.

Frankly, Brit, I'm scared. And concerned. Don't get mad. I only have your best interests at heart.

A lot of strange scenarios are running through my mind. I don't know whether P going to wind up preg, or if you guys are going to become lesbian life partners, or whether you plan on hiring her as your new wacky Nanny, which will spin off onto some kind of freaking unbelievable Simple Life series, or whether she will effectively destroy any of the new cred you are trying very hard to build since your estrangement from Fed-Ex. Sorry to bring that up so abruptly, by the way. I know it must sting. Just keep in mind that he's not the kind of freeloading lovin' you need at the moment. You can get it elsewhere, right? Y'all know I'm right.

Also, and I digress, Brit, but I really don't understand why you are wearing a shiny satin shirt-and-tie combo. I hate it. Maybe you should hire Rachel Zoe to be your stylist? Richie just sacked her, so she must be available. I can't stop staring at your luscious locks, though. Does getting a weave hurt?

Anyway. All this change can't be good right before the holidays. I'm going to trust that you know what you're doing this time around. You know what I'd be really thankful for? If you find a way to run into Justin over the long weekend. Cause let's get one thing straight: that bitch Diaz has got nothing on you. Take back what's yours, Brit. Make it happen. And please ditch the fucking tie. If you insist on partying with Paris, at least realize you're going to have to out-do her fashion-wise on a regular basis. If Avril can get a contract with Ford Models, there's hope for you yet. I'm here if you need to consult with me on anything. Happy Thanksgiving!


P.S. Really think about that whole Justin thing, k?



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