What you say in between bites of parsley, Britney Spears, is beautiful. And I believe.

I realize that this is the internet equivalent of wearing chandelier earrings or eating bunless Quarter Pounders (what else is very 2005?), but until Annie sent this to me today, I hadn’t seen Britney Spears’ reefer-induced, belch-laden elegy to time travel. And I almost cast it off as just another piece of meaningless drivel I use to pass the time between minutes, when a few of her many words cut to the core of my very being.



Britney, I’m missing out on life too. I’m watching it pass me by from my Seward Street porch, once shaded by that diseased tree that shed day-glo powder all over the driveway. And like you, I wonder if any of those inventors have gotten off their lazy, bespectacled asses and invented time travel yet. Because you know what I’d do, Brit, if I could travel back in time?

I would pause “Inventing the Abbotts” when I went to the bathroom because I think I missed the part where Joaquin Phoenix pushes Billy Crudup off the porch.

I would give my dad a better father’s day present.

I would quell my desire for instant gratification and leave my Lean Cuisine in the microwave for the full 2 minutes, 45 seconds, thus avoiding any unpleasantly surprising frozen diced tomatoes.

I would learn how to do a cartwheel.