The most-blogged-about subject of last week speaks out

You can’t pick who chooses you. It’s like, I’m sure every kid in Africa and Asia wants Angelina to take them home and be-do-rag them and get carried in a sling, but there are only a chosen few. So imagine what it’s like when you are a product in Rite-Aid, just sitting on the Wet ‘N’ Wild “Eyes On The Town” shelf. You can’t pick who buys you. So when she picked me up, I figured, what the hell? Better that I get worn by Britney than some nobody, right? Ha. “Worn”.

I knew things were going awry when Sean Preston tried to eat me. I was just sitting there on the counter of the “Hers” side of Brit-Brit’s bathroom (because she thinks when you have two sinks it’s classy and also warrants a gender divide) when I felt the slobber of someone who is growing up without valuable role models. Look, even my label says keep out of reach of children! I am a synthetic fiber, for the love of God! I am not your fancy-pants Chanel lashes made from the tail hairs of fetal mini-seeing-eye-horses. I am PVC. Sorry! Sorry for being an untouchable in the falsies caste system. Sheesh. At least SP didn’t get his hands on the glue. It’s toxic, just like her song says. Too bad Britney didn’t get her hands on it either. Me without glue is like the shoobop sha wadda wadda without the yippity boom de boom. So Brit finally grabbed me out of SP’s fat hand and I was pretty mangled. But, apparently, wearable.

brit

Side note: while we’re on the topic of mangled, there’s this urban lash legend that went around for a while and I want to confirm that yes, it happened and the reason I know is because it happened to my aunt. It gets kind of gruesome though, so if you’re squeamish, avert the eyes to which you are attached. So the thing is, I have a LOT of family who have been in the employ of one Ms. “Liza with a Z” Minnelli. And before you can say “Hey, but you’re just PVC” and remind me of the place from whence I came, let me just say that back in the 70s we were all PVC, honey. And Liza has been faithful to us for years. So one night at Studio 54, Liza had a case of the giggles because, as the story goes, Mischa Baryshnikov had a thing for licking toes under the table and was Liza ever the ticklish one. So her laughter turned into tears and the tears loosened the glue and my aunt flies off of Liza’s eye and right into the mouth of an also-laughing Bianca Jagger. Bianca inhales my aunt, requires the Heimlich given by none other than Andy Warhol and she flies out right on to Malcolm McDowell’s eye, thus inspiring his costume choice for A Clockwork Orange. Swear to God.

So. Right off the bat, I knew I was going to garner some attention. The girl clearly didn’t know how to affix me properly, but you know, sometimes you can get away with it and look sorta natural. But I was slipping from the get-go…and the questions hadn’t even started! I was bracing myself for when the toughies got dished. The phrase “Matt Lauer Interview” obviously doesn’t have the famous ring to it that “Barbara Walters Interview” does but if there’s one thing I know about fragile Southern women, it’s that they love their daddies and crying to a daddy-like figure is second nature. So…you don’t need to toss me a crystal ball for me to tell you the future didn’t look good.

It was kind of smooth sailing for a while, we got through clips of Brit back when she had a killer bod, Brit when she kissed Madonna, Brit writhing around with all her makeup perfectly in place. But then, out popped the questions about K-Fed and the paparazzi. Damn you Lauer! I was like a gymnast who mistook Crisco for chalk, I was sweating, holding on for dear life, knowing that I was going to be single-handedly responsible for any notoriety that was to come from this. I couldn’t hold on. Unable to keep it together, I dangled like a modifier from her eye. For the REST. OF. THE. DAY. Girlfren exhibits some giant pee-pee holding skills for a pregnant lady, I mean, she didn’t once use the lav to even sneak a peak in the mirror and believe me, I was doing my best to tap-tap-tap her in the eyelid to make her aware of me. To no avail.

I am sorry it happened this way. Really, a smidge more glue and this situation would be a non-situation. We would just be talking about her inappropriate Forever 21 outfit. Instead, I am a reluctant star who just wants to get back to my own day-to-day. And, as she said when you were too busy laughing, Brit does too. But instead, because of me, we are still giving this girl not one but forty lashes.

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  • Comments (3)
  1. OMG.

    What.

    The.

    F**k.

    (can I curse on this thing?)

    THAT WAS AWESOME.

    • The Fonz
    • June 27th, 2006

    Hey-ooo!

    Oh Britney…

    • Reece
    • June 27th, 2006

    “tail hairs of fetal mini-seeing-eye-horses”
    why you gotta bring Cuddles into this hotmess?

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