What the ...?

Ahh, holiday weekends. Hope President’s Day was as good to you as it was to me. Remember all that relaxing and cleaning I was going to do over the weekend. It actually happened. I feel ready to start fresh today. I must say the weekend was as much relaxing as it was bizarre. You know when you see a series of peculiar things one after the other only to be confronted with the ultimate in weirdness.

It started off with a cold spell on Friday. Part of my self-spa package was a few lengthy walks. It seems everyone has decided to take a page from Paris Hilton and puts clothes on their dogs when it gets cold. I’m not talkin’ designer duds either, I’m talkin’ a kid’s T-shirt cut for little pooches. Poor things, they just seemed confused. You could tell from their odd gate that they felt awkward. Now mind you it was in the 60s not the 40s or 30s. Many dogs originate from cold climates.

Next up was this eerie occurrence of hearing at least three Olivia Newton John songs this weekend while I was in the car. I could go years without hearing a song of hers on the radio but three in a weekend is strange. Made me want to watch Grease or Xanadu. Okay, not Xanadu but definitely Grease or the Let’s Get Physical video. I treated myself to a semi-marathon of The Real Housewives of Orange County. These bitches are more vapid and confused than their television counterparts. At least on Desperate Housewives it’s understood that they are fictional characters. Oddly, they have no idea how they come across. They take pride in their indulgent affluent plastic existence. Joe and Slate are amusing.

Then I was accosted by the news that Lindsey Lohan left rehab after completing a 30-day program. How the hell to you complete rehab while working everyday and going out at night? She may be the first celeb to treat rehab like a hotel. Unbelievable. Bridget Moynahan is three months pregnant with Tom Brady’s baby after breaking up three months ago. What kind of Young and the Restless plotline is this? Oh, and Ralph Fiennes joined the Mile High Club with a flight attendant on a recent flight. Alright, I kinda like this one it’s peculiar but titillating.

But boys and girls, the magical piece to my peculiar weekend was watching Britney Spears shave her head then showing up a day later wearing a cheap costume wig. Not even a racy Frederick’s of Hollywood one. Poor girl, she’s having a meltdown. I honestly feel bad for her. The Britney ride isn’t as much fun as it used to be. Now there are children and a loser father in her menagerie. I just want to know where is her family. As soon as I appeared with Matt Lauer chomping on gum, my mom would have flown in to see what was going on. Forget that, the minute I met K-Fed; momma would have flown in from Ohio to check on me.

Where are her family, agents and other hangers-on? She seems so alone and vulnerable. The even sadder side is that the paparazzi hunt her so closely that her nervous breakdown is being broadcast live. I really don’t have words for her. Sad. Tragic. Unfortunate.

What are your words for Brit Brit’s meltdown?