Yes, I'll probably take this post down when Brit Brit dies

Journey back with me to the year 1999, when we were all partying like the year that it actually was. Did I just blow your mind? It was a simpler time when Dallas beat Buffalo for the Stanley Cup (what?) Rev. Jerry Falwell outed a purple Teletubby named Tinky Winky (the?) and Concerto for Flute, Strings and Percussion by Melinda Wagner won the music Pulitzer (fuck?).

It was also when a young redneck named Patrick in my newspaper class took a shine to fresh-faced popstar Britney Spears. You have to stretch your imagination and remember she used to be ohmigah the hottest girl ever



instead of a bloated mentally unbalanced cat woman.



Patrick would go around shouting to whoever would listen that, “Britney Spears will be my wife. Oh yes, she will be my wife.” Which would have sounded creepy if not for it being so far-fetched. Let the scrawny, pimply boy dream his dreams in peace!

I was thinking about Patrick the other day. Someone should really let him know that now would be the time to make his move.