Read My Lips... With Glasses

The following is a conversation I had with my Better Half (BH) at the Atlanta Bread Company last night as I was eating my cheesecake and HIS Cuban sandwich.

Me: “You know, I think I saw Britney Spears on TV while I was in the gym. Well, I know I saw her, but I think she was getting a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.”
BH: “Really? Did they not say it was her?”
Me: “Oh, I don’t know. I was on the elliptical machine blasting Blink 182, reading lips.”
BH: “Well did it look like her? I mean, Come On. We’re talking Britney Spears. How could you not know if it was her?
Me: “I didn’t have my glasses on, so I wasn’t sure.”
BH: “Wait. You mean to tell me that you go to the gym and read lips, without your glasses on?”
Me: “Oh. This is probably why I suck so badly at it.”

The only words I picked out today during my lip reading game was, “Twelve Thousand Dollars” and I think it was because the guy said it with big mouth motion like Dora doing the Whale scene from “Finding Nemo”.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure it was Brit I saw on TV on the Walk of Fame. In all actuality, it was difficult to see because there were so many people around her. However, they had her dancing all over in other scenes, I gather it was 5 minutes of Brit on the news, so I did get a good look at her and I’m really not so blind. I have this to say to Ms. Spears, besides the fact I really don’t like her music, “Girlfriend, quit bleaching your hair or it’s going to crack and break off, leaving you bald.”

Well, Just Damn. What is with these people who HAVE to be blonde? That is pretty much everyone in Palm Beach County… but me. I am a brunette, when I’m not freaking out my Better Half and trying to go black. (I have always wished I had black hair. It looks terrible on me. My skin is too pale and I have blue eyes. I look like Morticia Adams when I go black.) Britney’s hair looks terrible. It looks like cotton and she needs a good clean cut to finish off those ends. Blech. She looks like total skank to me. But then again, what in the hell do I know? I’m a stay at home Mom. She’s a gazillionaire. I’d rather be me.