We saw Britney Spears at Houston International Airport on Saturday afternoon. Well, it looked like Britney. A blonde with tresses of a certain length, the newsboy cap, the low rider "you can almost see my 'pubes,' but not really pants," the hip retro seventies belt, and the cropped "t" definitely had the air of Britney. Perhaps this 'Not Britney' was part of some Britney master plan? She, formerly of Pepsi hucksterism, deploys an army of 'Not Britneys' around the world in an attempt to quash the attempts of magazines like People and Us to photograph her smoking or canoodling with bad boys.
I'd like an army of 'Not Heathers.' A 'Not Heather' could show up for work on those rare San Francisco days when the sun is shining and Ocean Beach is really the only place to be. A 'Not Heather' could go and stand in line at the DPT when I neglect to pay my parking tickets. Don't think that I would misuse 'Not Heathers.' 'Not Heathers' would never walk the pups or do the laundry. I treasure the time I spend with Derek and the dogs out of the house away from the telephone, computer and television. Laundry? Who wouldn't want to give up doing the laundry. Well, it's my mission to educate everyone in Cole Valley as to the value to be had by drying one's clothes in dryer #39. Ten minutes for a quarter rather than the normal seven is something to be shared. Why should a 'Not Heather' garner all the glory?
Otherwise, all Jason, all the time.
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