Oh sweetie, I feel you. When you were taking a Bic to your head like Frida, you're allllmost there. Alllmost. But fear not, my beloved Brit! This is a good break. Its called a breakdown, and in the long run, you'll find it far more preferable to continuing on in your current roles as paycheck, vicarious source of self esteem, and doormat to all.
It boggles the mind to think of how much money those Britney Spears Mega Machine locks represented, how many times your users twisted them this way and that for profit, extending them, bleaching them, cutting them - all because market research suggested it. How many times did K-Fed run his dirty-digger fingers through them? Surely enough for the bundle to be considered hazardous material. Ewwwww.
But now they're gone. What a spectacular "fuck you" to society ... couldn't have done it better if I tried. Hopefully you're smart enough to understand the shearing as the metaphor its meant to be, and do the real shearing required to get any semblance of a life back. Leave your gut-sucking, white trash family, loser Fresno ex-hubby and money-grubbing manager behind like your over-dyed clippings of hair cast to the floor of a salon for some broom girl (or Perez Hilton) to pick up and sniff obsessively.
Now run ... run far away. In fact, run straight to Neil Strauss' house and tell him everything, so he can put it into one of his gorgeous biographies, and be sure to pick up some Kombuchi tea on your way there, because your liver fucking needs it. Oh, and while you're at it, please re-cover Joan Jett's "I love Rock and Roll" 'cause you were never really that hard-core in the first place, but something tells me you are now, you bald-as-fuck, carpet-munching, finger-flipping bitch.
I love you more than ever.
Actually, I never really liked you, but I do now.
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