country, y'all

tonight i do my best imitation of britney. how's that you ask since i'm not hardly southern and ain't hardly a blonde and i'm not shacking up with a guy whose drawers peek out from the top of his capris, except on men they're called shorts.

here's how: so dang hot i got home after a cancelled date (he did the cancelling) and changed into a halter out of which i pop and a skirt so mini may as well walk around in my very own drawers. but i'm not chomping gum, cause unlike brit, my teeth hurt, or one does, and i am suddenly overwhelmed with paranoia about 'em, along with fear of falling arches (the pede-kind, not the corbelled ones), inertia, and any other number of intangibles.

tomorrow's the solstice, i think. does brit know that word? remember that song she sang once, 'i'm not that innocent.'

for a very long time, i was convinced the lyric was 'i'm not that cynical.'

isn't that ironical?

(in related cause it's southern news, cousin justin of greetings from new orleans fame was on npr: listen to the very awesome piece)