Britney, please save yourself.

Saradia and I gmail chatted this morning. The thing I love about sararara is that she shares my insatiable and not-all-that-secret love for all things celebrity. dissecting celebrity news for me is like...brain masturbation. wait, suddenly I've somehow linked Sara to masturbation, and that's hella weird. new paragraph.

anyway, I love me some gossip. and I really get involved in it. The whole Britney Spears thing is just sad though... It's akin to one of those accidents that you see by the side of the road, and ghoulishly find yourself straining for a glimpse of severed head or detached foot*. anyway, we decided on a plan of action, so that Britters can regain her pop princess crown**

1. STAY IN REHAB!!!! (this one is kind of important)
2. stop with the wigs. embrace the baldness, until it grows out a bit. then adopt a pixie cut, in lightest ash blonde.
3. go on a health retreat...disappear from public view for six months or so, and emerge slim, toned, and glowing.
4. adopt an icy, glittery Grace Kelly/ southern belle image. elocution and deportment lessons should have been a part of the health retreat. perhaps I should have mentioned this earlier? anyway, shock the world by radiating calm, charm and grace.
5. move to France. (no cheese though! let's maintain the slim tonedness, shall we?)
6. work with Goldfrapp-types and craft an album (You May Call Me Mistress Spears) of perfect slivers of icy, glittery fabulous pop. Duet with Kylie. remix by Scissor Sisters.
   
7. REMAIN SINGLE! this is probably safest, until Trousersnake realises his destiny, and comes running back to the new, fantasticacious Brit.
   

...et voila! the balance of things will be restored. And also, I will not have to look at any more flabby shaved coochie, or nasty white-trash outfits, or nasty weaves. and that, my friends, is that.

* or perhaps that is just me.
** there are some Britney songs on my Ipod. you have a problem with that? I'll play you some probot and then you can SUCKIT! STOP JUDGING ME!!!!

the female DJs: they annoy me.

so, I don't listen to the radio anymore. Partly because the music they playlist is total and utter commercial crap ("aaaaaaaaargh! it hurts my ears! more Indie! more Indie!"), but mostly because the DJs make me want to scrape out my eardroms with a spoon. Or, maybe their eardrums. I'm no masochist (another reason I avoid the radio). Gareth Cliff is the King of the arseholes, aims for controversial, and misses wildly, often landing squarely in middle-aged-ladyland (which is not the same as electric ladyland, okay?).

However, my dislike of the male DJ's that blight the airwaves pales in comparison to my utter loathing for the girlyDJ's these days. I mean, they're all right as long as you don't expect a) intelligence b) informed opinions c) musical knowledge or d) the ability to coherently string two thoughts together and have them come out of their mouth in an interesting and engaging manner.

okay, Jeannie D was an exception, but Top Billing have her in their clutches now and she'll soon be lost to us. But so many of them seem to be hired, not even on the basis of their looks, or big boobs or something, but because they have nice shoes, or are really enthusiastic.

I admit, Maybe there's some lovely MetroFm DJ out there who is soulful, sultry and has the brain of a ninja robot (that's a good thing , see). But the Female "Radio personalities" I have had the good luck to experience...have made me long for the good old days of inequality.