Oh Britney, the soundtrack to my childhood

- Kids really don't get the whole sexy school girl thing...

I used to have a Britney Spears barbie complete with a school girl outfit and those little pom pom things she wore in her hair. Again disappointing my grandfather by not purchasing a black doll. Once it got a little marker smudge on its chin I lost interest and moved onto another Barbie. Little did I know that this experience would later come to be a telling metaphor for her life…

Britney Spears was likely my favourite singer when I was younger. I constantly played her CDs on my boombox and danced along in front of the mirror in my bedroom—-Disturbingly one of these songs was “I’m a Slave 4 U”. Years later I was fine with throwing out random others albums, but I held onto her CDs… also my Fefe Dobson and Ace of Bace CDs, but that’s besides the point.

Bobby-who?

So while going through one of my 90s/early 00s music binges I was still able to enjoy the Britney hits of old. While the newer tracks don’t really appeal to me nearly as much as the old ones, crazy or sane, drunk or sober, Britney’s still got a solid fan base in a few 90s kids. Even if they don’t listen to her music now.

Sh*t, remember “My Perogative”? I used to think that was her original song. I think I made my mom feel old with that one… Then I probably crushed her spirit by declaring it was better than the original… I stand by this claim.

So either I was a loser at 13, or growth hormones have gotten better

Every family is supposed to have ‘that’ uncle. The one who seems more like a character in a sitcom than a real person, and while their reputation proceeds them you have never actually met them. In my case, this is my rich Uncle Berry* from Georgia* who recently came to stay with my grandparents for a couple weeks with his wife and her daughter.

"I take my juice with a shot of Jack"

I was told the daughter was 13, and so I expected a little girl with bobble twist ties in her hair and a Hannah Montana backpack. This is not what I got. Instead I got a girl that was not only taller than me, but looked closer to 16 than 13, and absently commented while watching Teen Wolf that Jack Daniel’s Whiskey tastes disgusting.

The f@ck?

I didn’t even know Jack Daniel’s existed until I was 18. While this girl’s friends consist of many high school-aged-bellybutton-ring-and-tongue-pierced individuals, mine consisted of a small group of minorities who banded together in the pursuit of being weird, academically sound, and on the road to anime addiction.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to further underestimate the previous generation. As much as I hate having my experiences and intelligence discounted by my age somehow I had done the same thing. This girl who I assumed I would ultimately be tasked with babysitting turned out to be quite independent and more pleasant than more than a few of my own peers.

- Don't fool yourself, this show was terrible. Also his face is an upside down d#ck

That being said… her surviving and embarrassing love of both Spongebob Squarepants and Hot Topic was a saving grace. Without these traits I would have worried about her childhood, but thankfully she has still held onto the tween condition of loving things that are kind of terrible.

*Names and places have been changed because the internet is full of creepers.

It’s so much easier to embarrass myself now that the internet is around

"Is that your diary?" "NO! It's a journal where I put all my intimate secrets, fears, and triumphs."

When I was in middle school I used to have a diary that I kept in my desk at school, since apparently 8 year old me is a dumba$$. At the time I was both astonished and horrified that the popular girls had taken my diary and read aloud all the appraisals I had made of the physical appearance of a boy in my class. This meaning I wrote “Oh my God, Justin is sooooooooo hotttttttt.” When I was discovered, being the b@tch I am, I instantly outed my friend as having the same appraisals of Justin’s appearance, and we both had to go through the day being embarrassed.

Was my head always that big? OMG! Is it big now?!

It used to be that this was the only way I could embarrass myself—by overestimating humanity, and having it shit in my shoes to spite me. That is until I Googled my name and found a picture of me in my school uniform striking a pose and lamenting about my love of Stephenie Meyer. For those of you without tits and a vagina, this is the author that spawned “Twilight”. f@ck.

Literally minutes before I posted this I went to edit my You Tube page and found that not only had I listed “Heroes” as one of my favourite movies (it was a TV show btw), but that in an attempt to project high self-esteem despite my low self-esteem, my profile was littered with comments where I complimented my own physical appearance.

I’ve never heard my mom say that she’s disappointed with me, and she won’t ever have to. Thanks to the internet’s preserving capabilities, I will have more than enough chances to be disappointed in myself. In a couple years I’ll probably look back on this blog and be disappointed by the amount of swearing on it. But for now… I’m say whatever I firetrucking feel like.