Programming Note

In case you were wondering, no... I haven't forgotten about Britney Spears. Literally, could you? Even if you wanted to (and I so desperately do)? Whilst I troll other blogs and sites looking for something fantastically interesting that it needs to be reposted here, or something that gives the mildest excuse for plastering breasts all over the page, I have to sift through ten Britney stories just to find one that has nothing to do with her. In response, I've actually chosen to no longer believe any of these "new developments" in the continual cycle of Spears' perpetual breakdown/recovery. It just gets to a point where you're getting slammed with ridiculous stories, one trumping the other every hour on the hour, that your cynic reflex should effectively cut off your ability to care.

Example: in the last week, I've heard the following stories...

1) Britney Spears aborted her child with Justin Timberlake when she 20.

2) Britney Spears was either molested and/or raped by a family friend when she was a child.

3) Britney Spears kept a loaded gun under her pillow while she slept in the same bed as her children, highly intoxicated at the time.

4) Britney Spears mixed grain alcohol into her youngest son's bottle to help him fall asleep so she could have sex with her then-manager, Sam Lufti.

5) Britney Spears is married again.

6) Britney Spears is pregnant again.

And many, many, MANY more. Hence, until something happens that I find entertaining, or (less likely) relevant, I'm taking a break from the Britney Spears saga. All I'll say is this: I called all of this in 1998. Told ya so. Bitches.