There are days when I ask myself all kinds of questions, pondering the mysteries of the universe. These questions range from “Am I hungry?” to “Did Jake Gyllenhall’s movie, The Day After Tomorrow, jinx New York City, damning us all to incessant extreme weather, followed by a perilous death?” to “Why do I know so much about a movie I’ve never seen?” I am a philosopher, one of the many things I have in common with Womanizer-hunting Britney Spears.
You guys, Britney Spears is writing a novel. It’s a fictionalized account of the last few years of her life. I like to imagine her perched on the toy chest in her sons’ playroom, frantically scribbling with a marabou-topped pen, as Jaden and Sean Preston play at her feet. It will be her opus.
Sure, Britney wrote a novel with her mom called, A Mother’s Gift in 2003, but this one is all her own. Unfettered by Lynn Spears’ notorious love of run-on sentences and fear of getting real, Britney will finally be able to tell her story her way; crisp and clean. Most recently her writing has appeared in the song, ”Mmm Papi” off her Femme Fatale album, a video known mostly for a guy dumping milk on himself. It’s abstract. If you can’t understand the nuance of “Mmm Papi”, you are never going to be able to dig deep enough to appreciate Britney’s prose.