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Saturday, February 17, 2007

"Oh, dear God in heaven."

"What? Who died?"

"Brit-Brit shaved her head."

"Oh, my God."

"I know."

"No, no. That's totally not what I'm oh-em-gee-ing over."

"No?"

"No. I can't believe it's taken you until now to see the photographs. Where were you this morning? Even the Fug Girls took time out from their weekend to write an Emergency Letter of Truth."

"She shaved her whole head!"

"By herself."

" . . ."

"Seriously. Go to Perez. There are pictures of her with the clippers in her hands, going totally G. I. Jane on her extensions."

" . . . "

"Yeah, G.I. Jane was the obvious joke. 'Going all 'V for Vendetta' would have been much more hipster."

"Wouldn't know. You haven't let me watch that movie."

"Shush it."

"But she's bald."

"Now the curtains match the -- ?"

"See, underpants humor? I like the underpants humor. Especially when there aren't any underpants actually involved."

"Perv."

"Seriously, though. Oh, Brit-Brit. Why did you have to shave your head?"

"I dunno. I've had days were I've looked at my hair and thought about taking a razor to it."

"No, it wouldn't be a good look on you. For one your head's ginormous."

"It is."

"And two, it could be scary lumpy."

"Bump city."

"I mean, have you felt your head? It's kind of large. And lumpy. Like a pumpkin. An award-winning pumpkin. A pumpkin worthy of Linus's worship and devotion and -- "

"I have a big head. I get it."

"I mean, hats quiver in fear at the sound of your name."

"I. Get. It."

" . . . "

"Don't even sing the Pumpkin Head song. I can see it in your eyes, you're singing the pumpkin head song in your own head right now, and I'm telling you, if you want to live, you won't utter another syllable about my giant pumpkin-shaped noggin."

"When you thump it, it sounds hollow."

" . . . "

"She shaved her head!"

"And yet there's not a single Anna Nicole-related reference on the front page of CNN or Perez Hilton."

"Who knew that all it would take was one bad haircut."

"Man, we should pay her or something."

"No. Because now all it takes to make front page news is one bad pop tart haircut, when last week, you had to go and drop dead with methadone in your fridge."

"Point."

"Still."

"Still."

"Remember when she Vegas Quickied her childhood friend, and we were all, 'oh, Britney?' If we only knew."

"No, that's still worse than this. The whole Federline-'Chaotic'-two-babies-in-two-years was still worse than this. This is just an unfortunate choice in hair styles. Hair grows back. And she can be all about the wigs and the do rags between now and then."

"It's more than a bad haircut. It's more than showing the world she has jug ears. It is a sign that she is so on the next train to Rehabville."

"Train? What is this, the 1940s?"

"I think you just insulted Mayor Marty's favorite toy."

"Operator! Give me Springfield-nine-oh-four, please!"

"Klondike would have been funnier."

"What's ice cream got to do with anything? Somewhere in the world, a girl is bald, and all you can think about is ice cream?"

"They really shouldn't let us hang out."

"No. They really shouldn't."

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Next she'll be hanging out with Tom Cruise.

10:48 PM  
Blogger Sarah said...

The Scientologists might actually help her at this point. They're big on the rehab.

4:22 PM  

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