Sociopathy 101

I wish I had the courage of a Velvet to just lay it right out there and tell you what this picture means. I did confess it to a few people, but trust me, it was not me on my best behavior, and to waylay the obvious, "No, it was not me caving and eating junk food."

At the start of the New Year, I developed problems in both eyes. Minor problems that could have been dealt with, but when one eye started bleeding; "had" to be dealt with. I got through two weeks of that. Everything's fine. Just had my eyes reexamined this week, and the whole incident did not alter my vision. Clean bill. Then a few weeks back, at 3 a.m. and perfectly sober, but extremely tired, I fell on my stairs in my house when I went down to get a bottle of water. In twisting to break my fall, my ribs took the full impact of stair treads. I didn't think I had broke them, but when the pain increased, a doctor's visit and an x-ray revealed, "Hello. Broken rib." So I've been painfully recovering from that, and then this past weekend, the cold from hell that everyone's Uncle Tom, Dick and Harriet (we don't talk about him much) has finally landed on my doorstep. I shut down my blogging mode and went into retreat. Coughing and hacking hooey and rib equals weariness and ouch. A lot of ouch.

Yesterday I went out to do my advance work on a cocktail of the week (probably up by tomorrow,) and stopped by a market to buy exactly two things: Water. Tissue. I got into the express lane and waited and waited and waited. Twenty minutes. Three people in front of me. Sidecars and sickness make you do strange things.

I glanced over and saw this Enquirer in the stand by the register, and I thought about Britney Spears and how she is out there daily doing things that scream "Look at me." The crotch shots, the torn fishnet pole dances, the wreckless driving. The reported drug abuse. Ignoring her lobster burger while out to dinner with Pa, but making repeated trips to the bathroom. The reported child neglect and abuse. KFed wants her to see them. You take them. No, YOU take them. Studying the cover story and the raking over of "Kirstie's packaging on MORE pounds," I thought, "If Britney truly wanted to get the media squawking and on full blown out hysteria? She should get really, really, really fat." They may forgive her the weaknesses cited earlier, but getting fat? The last cultural taboo.

....and "no," the pastry shot has nothing to do with Kirstie's eating issues or Britney's road kill of a life. As I said, Sociopathy 101.

Cocktail Of The Lost Week:Britney SpearsHighball, Lowball, Screwball, Correctol

Image from TMZ.com

I was going to make my cocktail of the week the Britney Spears Car Wreck, given that two days ago she shuffled into a Mercedes dealership, bought a new SLK350, then immediately went out and hit something with it. Just the thing for that 4 a.m. roll to Popeye's. By the time I have gotten to posting about this cocktail, Britney has already been hauled off to an evaluation ward at the hospital, complete with police escort. Britney burps. News at eleven.

In keeping with the highs and lows and crazy strings of her life (just shoots right out there and lands in gloppy, tangled messes,) I've created:

The Britney Spears Highball, Lowball, Screwball, Correctol Cocktail:

2 ounces Absolut Vodka (It's in your freezer, Sweetie. Ten bottles of it. No. Over there. Over THERE! The kitchen. THE. KITCHEN. THE PLACE WHERE YOU GET CHEETOES!)

1 dash Barcardi 151 Rum (Mama needs her jolt in the a.m.)

1 ounce Chambord Raspberry Liqueur (It's sweet y'all, and it comes in a bottle with a crown like those air fresheners I can put in my back seat window.)

1 ounce Peach Schnapps (Louisiana is peaches, ain't it? No wait. Maybe that's Mizzippi.)

2-3 ounces Orange Juice (I know this one. I used to put it in the babies bottles with that absolutely stuff.)

2-3 ounces Pineapple Juice (Where do I get pineapple juice? Hawaii? I gotta go to Hawaii? I need some new bikinis and spray tan and a weave..a new weave.)

Shake with ice cubes and pour into Hurricane Glass (as in..."she's always in the eye of a ....")

NOTE: If you are a PA, you may need to get a jug of that nasty colored water at Shopper's Warehouse, dump it, tenfold this recipe to make the drink a traveller and stock up on red cups.

NOTE ON PHOTOGRAPH:

A St. Christopher candle (already lit ;) to keep Britney out of car wrecks. Yes, C-Chris lost his Catholic whammy, but he's still got some juice;

A copy of the book Train Your Mind: Change Your Brain by Sharon Begley;

Amy Winehouse's red lace bra she FINALLY took it off (and we thought it would never happen);

A slew of rosaries Madonna had ditched. (Listen, Brit Brit. Madonna just bought a $12 million property for her next door GYM. Doncha get it? Listen to the Master. You NEVER have to leave the house. Those rosaries have been blessed with strong juju. Use them);

A LARGE bottle of prescribed medication. You could string the pills and wear it around your neck like those candy necklaces you loved chawin' on as a kid. String the pills in the shape of a rosary and you could use it to pray AND eat it. Multi-taskin' sorta-kinda.

P.S. Save your chicken bones from Popeye's for some massive Santeria power.

P. P.S. I bought the candle in a Santeria shop, so the magic is already workin', girl. You're out of the car.

THIS JUST IN: Britney consuming massive quanities of laxatives. Maybe she thought it was hair coloring?

It wasn't that long ago that people thought this was Britney at a malfunctioning level .

From Fanta to Correctol. At least her wig matches the packaging, right? Some images from TMZ.com. I would hate covering her as a news assignment. Her story changes by the minute, as I've seen in editing this piece.