Hey Britney! Paris is not Nice in Springtime–or Ever

Okay, is anyone else creeped out over the Paris Hilton-Britney Spears BFF hoopla?

I’m used to going into the grocery store and, against all motives toward maturity and intellectual sophistication, being drawn to the tabloids. Usually the covers broadcast new, declining, or over romances between men  and women, their pictures plastered across the front of each magazine. The other day I was on a mission but my  head whipped around, as though by some paranormal pull, to the US magazine with Paris’ and Britney’s picture on the front. Of course I bought it, telling myself it was solely for research purposes.

First of all, with all the money Britney must have, why is Paris dressing her? An even bigger question is why did they cut a pair of fishnet stockings in half, each wearing one half? And private pajama parties for two? Ewww!

I’ve come to feel kind of sorry for Britney. She didn’t grow up a glam ham, I’m pretty sure. She came into this just a basic girl and she seems a bit confused by it all. Then, in my opinion, this spotlight seeker–Federline–hones in and just blatantly uses her. It’s pitiful.

So now, I guess, she’s looking for someplace to belong. Along came a spider…a satin gown insider, and invited Miss Spears to play. Besides cat fighting with other famous females, I’m not really sure what it is that Paris does. Oh, I know what she does. She makes me sick!

For some reason I absolutely abhor this person. To me she looks evil, like the devil or sometimes just like her very own chihuahua. And the smug smile and window blind eyelids get on my last nerve.

I’m no psychologist but I believe Paris gravitates to these young actresses and singers because she’s jealous. She gets them under her spell and then turns on them. That seems to be her only way to get noticed. Now, according to US, she and Britney are talking about pairing up for some sort of duet. Apparently, Paris can’t get any work on her own merit. It’s always been her family’s name or someone else’s fame.

So, for now, she’s feeding and changing Britney’s kids. She’s holding Britney’s hand and taking her to clubs, giving her style advice–yuck–and weaving her way into Britney’s needy heart.

My advice to Britney, and she does call to ask for it periodically, is this: Get away from her before she sucks all of your blood out. Run as fast as you can, all the way to Baton Rouge if you have to. Just don’t let her get her tacky, talentless talons embedded. God knows, we don’t want to have to hear you sing, “Whoops, I did it again,” ever again.