25 March 2009

It's Britney, Bitch: Yes, this is what one does before a concert.

Act 1 Scene 1:

There I was, surrounded by skinny jeans, pink stiletto heels, flat ironed hair, short jackets, Louis Vuitton sunglasses (or excellent copies) and sparkles as far as the eye could see.

I was standing on the metro platform in workout gear.

I did not fit in.

"It's Britney, Bitch!"

Those were the first words called out--it was a siren song to all of the young women standing on the platform waiting for the green line train to Gallery Place. They were on their own personal pilgrimage to see her, their true American Idol, she who never had to win a national televised competition (other than Star Search) to make it happen. Fame, fortune, fabulousness (not to mention pregnancy, divorce and destruction--but I digress).

The collective "WOOOOO" was only shortened only by the horn of the MARC train.

"Every time they turn the lights down/
Just wanna go that extra mile for you/
Public display of affection/
Feels like no one else in the room (but you)"

Their singing, or what might be construed as singing, rose above the volume of my ipod.

Don't get me wrong. I've got nothing against Britney Spears.

I can't, however, handle the giddy anticipation of girls with no singing talent as they howl their excitement down a platform. They were, in fact, quite beautiful girls to behold. But after they opened their mouths to sing? Not so much. In fact, a moaning, screeching cat just hit by a truck had more musicality.

But I held back my growing curmudgeonly ways, and forced a smile, albeit a small one, of course.

"We can get down like there's no one around
We keep on rocking, we keep on rockin'
Cameras are flashing while we're dirty dancing
They keep watching, keep watchin'

Feels like the the crowd was saying...

Gimme Gimme more
Gimme more
Gimme gimme more"

And yes, there was a crowd of young and old men who wanted more more more. More squealing and dancing and ass-shaking antics from 18-25 year old girls. And I don't blame them. It was certainly a show.

While I never wanted to be one of the flashy sparkling howler monkeys, I would love to be one of the quietly confident creatures who struts down the street without a care. But the heels would cause me to fall. I cannot stomp it out as they say.

I messaged the Blonde about my surroundings and of course, she had a bird's eye-view of everything. She noted the people walking, and I thought, "many of those girls want to be you, Blondie. But there's only one of you."

I should have asked her if her driver had dropped her off to meet her lesser imitator(s).

Their collective excitement powered the metro to Petworth, where I gladly jumped off.

I, I confess, did not want any more.

I had had enough.


Washington Cube said...

I thought her moment of stellar crowning glory came recently when she said, "My pussy is showing," and left stage to make adjustments. Class all the way....bitch.

Cue to Bette Davis rolling in her grave.

and P.S. like the world hasn't already seen that mess and more.

Washington Cube said...

"that mess" meaning Britney's vagina, not Bette's moldering corpse.

Washington Cube said...

Well...re-thinking this...Whatever Happened To Baby Jane.

I demand a remake with Britney and Lindsay. Cheetoes, breasts down to the knees, one of them morbidly obese, one of them injecting lamb embryos and going "baaaa" with each syringe.

But ya Ah Baaaaalanche...ya are!

I swear I am drinking water and watching Damages.

ma said...

Cube! She is classy...with a capital K unfortunately, but I had fun writing this one. I'm starting to wake up! Perhaps the cherry blossoms are helping me.

suicide_blond said...

at one moment i did actually point and shout!! OMG ...they are BLONDER THAN ME!!... i think we can alll agree that one of me is allll DC reallllly wants...
ok some days im not even sure dc wants ONE... lol

Cube! you slay me...
if only i had heard about the lady bits showing earlier...i sooo would have had a banner printed!

great post...
oh oh and new slogan...
its "your name here" bitch!