Teen Queen Hygiene: An Open Letter

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Britneyfeet2
Dearest Britney,

You know, for a singer who had a massive hit with a song called "Toxic", you don’t seem to have a very strong grasp on the meaning of the word.  It is my sincerest hope that, while you’re laid up in the hospital, praying the needle you stepped on wasn’t Natasha Lyonne’s, you’ll take a moment to strongly consider what I’m about to tell you. 

The barefoot journey across America has got to stop, Britney.  Your adamant protest against footwear is bordering on obsessive and isn’t cute anymore.  It’s just reckless.  And rednecky.  A simple Google image search for "Britney Spears barefoot" tells a pretty sad, sobering story. 

As if your husband wasn’t enough of Hepatits risk all on his own, you insist upon increasing your chances of infection by doing a barefoot
long jump at every IHOP you go to.

I know that riding around in Jeeps in a bikini top, cut-off denim shorts and
no shoes was a way of life back in Louisiana, but you live in Los
Angeles now.  In case you hadn’t noticed, drug-and-disease infested
Hollywood Boulevard doesn’t look much like "The Shire", so you need to
stop pretending to be a hobbit.  You’re a parent now, so even if
you’re not concerned about your own health and hygiene, there’s a baby
to think about. 

You’re a modern woman and if you want to go through life barefoot and
pregnant, that’s your choice.  I respect that.  Well, not "respect", but I get it. And maybe you’re one of these post-feminists who refuses to buy into the shoe-obsessed "Sex and the City" culture.  But remember, you’re also a
multi-multi-millionaire.  It’s time to start acting like it, and that means at least throwing on a pair of flip-flops when you hop out of the car.

Also – changing your baby’s diaper
on a PUBLIC DINNER TABLE?  That’s not only unacceptable, it’s
personal.  Your behavior is putting innocent civilians at risk!  I don’t know about people in LA, but
I don’t want to be eating spicy tuna rolls anywhere near the fecal
matter of your (probably filhty) offspring.

You’re about one anti-depressant perscription away from becoming Anna Nicole Smith.  Shape up.  If you want my advice, it’s time to drop the weight, drop the deadweight husband, focus on your kid, rejuvenate your career and, most importantly, put some f*cking shoes on.

Sincerely,

Alex Blagg, concerned citizen