Britney: Come On Home, Baby



Dear Brit,

Listen, a few of us have been talking, and we all agree that it’s time you moved back to Louisiana. What on earth are you still doing out in L.A., girl? Clearly they don’t get you. All those things the press is always getting on you about, like cruising around with little kids on your lap, going into gas stations barefoot, jetting off to Vegas for shotgun weddings or occasionally forgetting to put on your panties? We ain’t even worried about all that. So you needed a carton of Camel Lights and you left your kicks at home. What’s the problem?

“Paparazzi” might as well be a plate of pasta at Mosca’s, for all we care. Just look at Brad and Angelina — are you really trying to tell me they put Maddox in a car seat every time they head to Rouses for a sixer of Abita? But do you ever see them in the tabloids? No. (I mean, without that pretty girl from Friends, of course.) Those two even live in the French Quarter, where there are tourists everywhere! And do you know who tourists are? They’re the same people who buy tabloids, baby.

You just tell Jamie Lynn that we won’t even judge her if she and her 18-year-old boyfriend want to have their little baby boy or girl in New Orleans. And bring that cutie Kevin on down, too, y’heard? “PopoZão,” right? Sure, it ain’t much now, but throw a bounce beat behind it and get Lil’ Wayne on a verse, maybe he’d have something.  

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