November 07, 2006
Tuesday. November 7, 2006.
The news arrived at our office at 1:40PM PST. A co-worker's husband called from his cell phone while driving on the 405 Freeway. The annoucement had come over the radio.
"Britney Spears filed for divorce from her husband Kevin Federline."
The jolt was felt throughout the offices of Anonymous Content. Phone calls were immediately made. IMs quickly popped up. MySpace bulletins were promptly posted.
Forget the elections. A major shift in the pop culture universe had just occurred. You could hear the gasps around the globe as reporters from US Weekly, Access Hollywood, and TMZ were just handed on a silver platter the very juice they were craving for.
Let us reflect.
To say this was inevitable would be like saying Neil Patrick Harris was going to come out of the closet. Um, duh. It was a denouement even Shaggy and Scooby could see from a mile away. The world was waiting for it to happen. It was the ginormous pink elephant in the room that was bound to be noticed and dealt with.
A part of me feels for the girl (note: not a woman). But then a part of me knows this can only be a sign of things to come. One word: comeback. She's got the hot, new post-baby body. She's clipped off that excess baggage of a hubby. And now it's time to write some songs about it, dammit. Perhaps some new club tunes about taking shit from no one and lashing out at the man who done her wrong. World, meet the newly independent Britney Spears. I can see the new album cover now. She's striking a pose with a that trademark mischievous glint in her eye. Renaissance Woman, out in stores Summer of '07.
Our girl has managed to keep herself in the public eye yet again. Message boards are already heating up, congratulating her on the good riddance ("Girl, what were you thinking to begin with?"). Needless to say, a new chapter in pop history has begun.
And once again we will be bombarded with the magazine covers, the he-said-she-saids, the Perez Hilton posts, the exclusive interviews. Way to go, America. You've found something more worthwhile on which to spend your time instead of visiting the polls and choosing which propositions can clean up your streets and schools.
Me? I still plan to stop by my neighborhood polling center and attempt to keep the Governator from making California a bigger political punchline. Then I'll skip the gym and rush home so I can watch the speculations and soundbites on the Breakup of the Year on Entertainment Tonight (sorry, Ryan and Reese).
It won't be a messy divorce. Quick and clean is what I predict.
K-Fed, meet the curb. Get used to your ass feeling sore for a while.
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