I rather enjoy reading about the life of Ms. Britney Spears-Alexander-Federline.
Now, I'm not one to judge, and by not one to judge I mean that I am incredibly judgemental.
I've come to the conclusion that, should you be waiting for your bus along King William Street at 3pm and you smelt the tangy aroma of stale cigarettes and KFC grease, and heard the crying of two young children, you would turn your head, subtly, so as not to attract attention from the players in this scene. You would see a 20-something single mother, severely underdressed for her bloated, neglected shape, sipping a can of Woodstock and carrying bags of newly purchased clothes in much the same vein as those she is already wearing - and you would silently sigh, annoyed that your bus route goes all the way to Salisbury.
Should you be in the queue at the checkout in Woolies, it is likely you would be waiting behind this spotty, unkempt woman, pushing a double pram in a pair of denim mini-shorts and foam platform thongs. She would load boxes of Coco Pops and frozen chicken nuggets (for the children) and a few bags of Doritoes onto the conveyor belt as her unrestrained children's arms grab at the chocolates on either side of the aisle. She would yell in an unconvincing tone to "leave the damn Freddo Frogs alone", and "they ain't gettin' nothin' if they keep it up". Which they do, so she buys them two each to keep them quiet.
Should you be dragged to Mansions on a Saturday night by a friend with somewhat questionable taste, it would be no surprise to see this woman, dressed in attire to make her daywear look downright conservative, dancing like a washed-up, coked-out stripper and lapping up the male attention, from males whose standards are based on the notion that "any hole's a goal". Without the children to hold her back, she carelessly downs whatever is handed to her, probably spilling it over you as she turns her head to vomit, while you do your best to avoid her on your way out of the classy establishment.
Essentially, Britney Spears (multi-millionaire) is no different from your grassroots bogan (Centrelink payments) that you may encounter during the course of your day - and depending on how you look at it - that is either a rather inspiring, or incredibly depressing thought.
Now, I'm not one to judge, and by not one to judge I mean that I am incredibly judgemental.
I've come to the conclusion that, should you be waiting for your bus along King William Street at 3pm and you smelt the tangy aroma of stale cigarettes and KFC grease, and heard the crying of two young children, you would turn your head, subtly, so as not to attract attention from the players in this scene. You would see a 20-something single mother, severely underdressed for her bloated, neglected shape, sipping a can of Woodstock and carrying bags of newly purchased clothes in much the same vein as those she is already wearing - and you would silently sigh, annoyed that your bus route goes all the way to Salisbury.
Should you be in the queue at the checkout in Woolies, it is likely you would be waiting behind this spotty, unkempt woman, pushing a double pram in a pair of denim mini-shorts and foam platform thongs. She would load boxes of Coco Pops and frozen chicken nuggets (for the children) and a few bags of Doritoes onto the conveyor belt as her unrestrained children's arms grab at the chocolates on either side of the aisle. She would yell in an unconvincing tone to "leave the damn Freddo Frogs alone", and "they ain't gettin' nothin' if they keep it up". Which they do, so she buys them two each to keep them quiet.
Should you be dragged to Mansions on a Saturday night by a friend with somewhat questionable taste, it would be no surprise to see this woman, dressed in attire to make her daywear look downright conservative, dancing like a washed-up, coked-out stripper and lapping up the male attention, from males whose standards are based on the notion that "any hole's a goal". Without the children to hold her back, she carelessly downs whatever is handed to her, probably spilling it over you as she turns her head to vomit, while you do your best to avoid her on your way out of the classy establishment.
Essentially, Britney Spears (multi-millionaire) is no different from your grassroots bogan (Centrelink payments) that you may encounter during the course of your day - and depending on how you look at it - that is either a rather inspiring, or incredibly depressing thought.
1 comment:
I love how well written this is. And true. And funny.
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