The first time I heard “Baby One More Time” I was off school sick. I couldn’t believe how good it was. I was like: WOW, I have to remember who this is! Britney. Spears. S-p-e-a-r-s. I spell things out sometimes so I don’t forget them. Who knew she’d become mega-psycho famous?
After her first couple songs people started acting like Britney-love wasn’t cool. Since I was a dumb high-schooler I acted like I didn’t like Britney either, even though I secretly did. When I was 19 I broke down and bought her CD, but I kept it a secret. I was still concerned with being cool even at that age. She had her Las Vegas marriage, K-fed thing and then the famous bald psychotic breakdown so she wasn’t making music for a while and I kind of forgot about her because I don’t really care about all that crap. I’m in it for the music.
Are you telling me when you first heard songs like Toxic that you didn’t nod your head and shake your butt a little?
A few months ago I heard her new CD, Femme Fatale. I tried getting everyone to listen to it because I was jamming away every day but people kept describing the songs with words such as “shit” and “crap,” or simply ignoring me.
Sure, it may be mindless and simple, but I enjoy it. Isn’t that the point of music? Why waste my time searching for trendy underground music that only five people know about when I’ve got Britney right there churning out tunes to make me jam. The way I see it, I can jam with effort, or I can jam with no effort. I’ll take the no effort, thanks.
You know what, while we’re having this coming out session I’ll go ahead and come out with something else. I’m a huge Miley Cyrus fan. Like, serious. I even own this T-shirt:
I only wear that in front of my closest friends even though secretly it’s my favorite shirt. Oh, and don’t get me started on how much I love Party in the USA.
OK. I’m done now.