Her birthday is tomorrow, neither one will give official word about the Billboard Awards on Monday – do you smell something in the works?
Last night at Area, Britney and Paris reunited after spending a couple nights apart…or was it a night? I can’t keep track, it’s all bleeding into one long bender, the most recent chapter coming last night at Area where the two hooked up inside, before Paris left to give Greek Stav his stab of the week and Britney went off with a new old crew – her back up dancers – until almost 6am.
And while the buzz this week has been largely critical of Britney’s wild and non stop freedom celebration, I, as you know, prefer to hold back rage until after the birthday. Girl just got outta jail, I say let her live it up for a few weeks, and if you think about it, hanging out with her dancers is actually a good sign. If she’s rehearsing, if she’s prepping, if she’s getting her moves back, it means the comeback is still alive, even though tearing her to pieces is so much more fun.
By the way - have you read the new Us Weekly? The cover screams “dangerous” but the article inside is curiously positive, extolling the virtues of the newfound closeness between Britney and Paris, taking good care to mention that Britney has actually been a good mother during daylight hours, waiting only until well after dark to get her groove on.
Has Elliot Mintz been added to the Spears payroll?
Still…despite the large grain of salt that has to accompany the article, despite the poon shots and the Paris factor and the wicked lifestyle, I wouldn’t scoff at Janice Min’s optimism quite yet.
Britney’s ultimate Stupidity was her marriage to the KFed. She was dumb enough to do it but not dumb enough not to sign a pre-nup. Paul McCartney, worth MUCH more than she is, was dumb enough not to sign a pre-nup.
Britney is indisputably dumb, really really really dumb, but she does have flashes of undumb sobriety. I often compare her to my dog Marcus. The other day, Marcus was very sick. He was throwing up, he was lethargic, I was about to spend $1,000 on emergency vet services in a frantic mothering frenzy, but at the 11th hour, Marcus heaved a large, gooey black mass out of his stomach that I thought at first was an alien but ended up being a long sock. Five minutes later, another sock came out. Marcus the idiot had eaten two socks.
But before I could write Marcus off as a complete moron, he surprised me yesterday when I left the house for half an hour forgetting to dispense his usual “stay at home and be good” treat. When I returned, I was greeted at the door by a tragically destroyed pair of Michael Kors suede wedges, even though a pair of similar knockoffs from Nine West – much less expensive – were sitting in tact and undamaged right beside them.
You will note this is the 3rd time he has displayed a remarkably astute sense of footwear appreciation. He knows where the line is, he knows how to cross it, and when to do it when it hurts the most.
Similarly, Britney Spears, like many smaller-brained mammals, has an acute awareness of her appeal, and how to manipulate it in her favour when necessary.
If she survived Kevin Federline, she will survive the fact that you now have intimate knowledge of the razor burn that used to be her rug.
Britney will prevail.