Thursday, May 08, 2008
One month until it's BS-stravaganza!
I was getting excited to visit my friend LL Cool Jew next month in New Orleans, so I was looking up some of the things we're going to geek out on. After checking out bayou boat trips and restaurant menus and the like, I decided to investigate one of our most-anticipated tourist activities: the Britney Spears Museum! Actually, it's the Kentwood Historical and Cultural Museum, or as their website says, the Kentwood Hiatorical and Cultural Museum, but apart from a modest exhibit on the Kentwood, Louisiana natives who fought valiantly in the second World War, the entire thing is devoted to BS. No, not bullshit or buttsex! I'm talking about the legendary Ms. Britney Spears.
Apparently, upon visiting this cozy, unassuming little cottage, in addition to viewing a fully automated small-scale replica of the stage from her first tour, I can expect to find creepy displays of Britney's childhood bedroom, right down to her Madame Alexander dolls and Barbie furniture, and tacky collages of treasured Spears family photos.
It's disturbing that my own childhood stuff is so reminiscent of Britney's. Not only is my similar brass-knobbed day bed still in my parents' "guest room" (minus the *NSYNC-shirt wearing teddy bear), my parents totally have a couple of those gold-foiled ready-made collages featuring vintage Razzy action circa 1985 hanging in their living room. All the Spearses need is a family portrait taken by Olan Mills, and Britney and I had the same childhood. Well, except for she was being fame-whored to the Mickey Mouse Club and fostering dreams of superstardom while I was building Lego houses, rocking the face off the mock Puyallup city council, and dominating the art of creating papier maché/tempera paint volcanoes thanks to my mastery of generating impressive acid-base reactions using household products in the gifted program and fostering dreams of supreme nerdiness. Other than that, though, I could BE Britney Spears if my parents had treated me like a cash cow rather than an aspiring dork. In fact, during the five minutes in my tween years that I decided I was going to be a supermodel (DON'T LAUGH...at least not until you've seen the ten pages of permed, Mary Kay-lacquered, acid-washed hilarity that is my "portfolio"), my parents humored me by letting me get my pictures taken, but they wisely wouldn't let me forsake my studies to enroll in the Barbizon school or hire one of the high-powered modeling agents working at the South Hill Mall Glamour Shots to represent me (and undoubtedly landing me awesome gigs like showing off the latest in Esprit and Generra fashions on the runway outside the South Hill Mall Gottschalks née Lamonts storefront. If I'd been surnamed Spears, my ass would have been at some audition before I finished saying "I want to be a star when I grow up."
I can only assume that this is why BS is currently known for her taste (or lack thereof) in ratty weaves, her Frappuccino-FUPA, and insanity, while I'm currently known for...well, not a whole lot besides titty pictures, useless bullshit, and batshit craziness. Okay, maybe it would be better if I were known for something more respectable, but at least I've never been committed to a psych ward. Yet.
Labels: Britney Spears, celebrities, I LOVE IT, LL Cool Jew, PWT, Razzification
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