You and Britney were supposed to be my generation's Mariah and Whitney. Oh wait, I guess this all makes sense: a meteoric rise to fame, career troubles and a semi-autobiographical movie that only fans like. The next time I see Xtina, she better be passing out popsicles in a pair of golden crazy shorts.
If I don't get my ice scream, I'll also need to see a therapist… sad face. Oh shit, girl!