An open letter to Britney Spears Federline once removed...

My dearest Brit -

Britney. Really? Sigh...Britney, Britney, Britney. You were showing so much promise for a minute there. You dumped that loser, mooch, low class, wannabe pimp. You are looking toned, looking healthy. I thought, "Good for B! She's trying to pick up her life - focus on herself and the things that are important to her!"

Perhaps I should've clarified, lovely Britney. By "important" I was referring to things like your health and your INFANT CHILDREN. I was not - FYI - referring to chain smoking and stripping.

Uh huh. Sure you don't know what I'm talking about. Go ahead, play dumb. Shall I refresh your memory?

Okay! Then let's play a little game I like to call "Pants vs. No Pants!" Here's how we play. I'll show you two pictures - one at the start of the evening, one taken toward the end of the night. You tell me what's different. Got it? Okay! Here we go:



Hmmm...same weave...



...same companion, same shirt...wait a minute! There it is! NO PANTS. Where are your pants, Britney?

According to TMZ, you were too busy partying at Tryst in Las Vegas to notice that you'd lost your satin knickers. Apparently in Kentwood, Louisiana sashaying around in fishnet stockings while flashing club-goers all the bits and pieces God gave you is acceptable behavior for a mother of two.

Do me a favor, Brit? Save that "I'm only 20-something" bullshit for someone who cares. You know what? Save it for Lindsay Lohan. At least she can act like a tramp without having to set her alarm clock for a 4:00 a.m. breast feeding.

Do the free world a favor, Brit. Put on some pants, go home, burn the weave and raise some babies.

With love,
D