Here’s Britney Spears at a hotel in a Beverly Hills, which makes no sense to me whatsoever because as far as I know she has a house in Malibu or Los Angeles or something other really nice place I will probably never get to go, let alone live.

When I was about 8 or so, I knew this kid who always wanted to sleep over. Like, all the time. My house sucked, we never had good snacks, and the only toy I had was a dirty stuffed rabbit I got from from some relative that came over once and never came back, possibly my real father.

Meanwhile, this kid had a pool and a kitchen so filled with food it was like a restaurant, complete with a Nanny who would cook whatever we wanted while we sat and played video games. I asked her one day about it, and she told me that she thought my parents were “cooler”. Only through the eyes of an 8 year old can extreme obiesity and alcoholism be viewed as cool.

I never really understood that, and I don’t understand this thing with Britney Spears now. I’m sure this hotel is nice, but I am also fucking positive that the multi-million dollar house she owns is way fucking nicer.

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