A day in the life of Britney Spears
Dear Diary, can I please borrow a cigarette?
08:41 AM CST on Thursday, February 9, 2006
By GORDON KEITH
I am like soooo pissed! I know you don't read the paper, because you don't have eyes, but some crazy popper-rotsee (sp?) took a picture of me, driving in my car, minding my own business, with my baby TASTEFULLY sitting on my lap as I sped away down the Specific Coast Highway. Now the press is having a feel day with it! They are calling me the worst mother since my own. I don't think they realize how difficult it is to be a mother, trying to lose all that weight.
Whew! Sorry to unload on you like this, but I want at least one person (you are like a best friend!) to know the truth.
I had just come out of the Malibu Starbucks with my non-fat Caramel Mocha Ding Dong (I get that everyday, yum!) and then I see all these camera guys crowded around my trunk, so I am thinking, oh my God, they are going to break into my trunk and take my baby out. So I did what any good, worried mother would do. I hid in the bathroom and smoked. Then it hit me. I needed to get my baby out of arm's way! So I put on my makeup, ran out of there and grabbed my baby.
Then I got in my car and screamed at the pauper-rachtsee (that is Mexican for photography, BTW). I pealed out of there! My bodyguard, the one I just hired, was in the passenger's seat doing nothing the whole time. So I told him to grab the wheel as I tried to hold my steaming hot coffee at least a foot above my baby's head while I hid my cigarettes. (I'm trying to quit, so I try to hide them from myself! CLEVER.)
Now everyone is mad at me, and I am the top story, even above the death of Loretta Scott Key, the singer of our national anthem.
I can't believe that I am public enemy No. 1 when there are not only killers out there, but murderers too as well. Really, is it so wrong to drive with a baby in your lap, windows down, along a road bound by a ravine that descends 200 feet into the ocean, in a car chase? It's not like I was about to crash. And besides, aren't babies' bones made of rubber anyway? I'm just saying.
BTW, Kevin and I got divorced again last night.
But I, being poor, have only my dreams
I have spread my dreams under your feet
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams