britney spears and the case for sterilization

i don't like britney spears. i never have and i never will. no, i haven't met her and no, i don't ever care to. i also have a small addiction to perezhilton, so my information regarding the trampity tramp tramp tramp comes directly from his oh so gay fingertips.
first of all, i personally believe that once a person who is not a) of an extremely low-level IQ or has not b) been on anti-psychotics for the majority of their life, has any excuse for behaving in the manner that the aforementioned "pop-tart" has behaved. i would like to think that no matter how you were brought up or what you went through, that at some point people come to a place where they are willing to take responsibility for their actions. also, i would like to think that people are able to distinguish a good decision from a bad one. case in point = walking around los angeles looking like a prostitute. not necessarily the best decision for a person to make. if you're an attention starved piece of shit then by all means, tramp away.

for just a moment, i would like to point out that her music is shitsy. its like listening to a 12 year old boy sing a song dedicated to his boyfriend being backed up by an old school pre-recorded beat from a yamaha keyboard. ass.

truthfully, i'm not entirely sure what brought this on. just a general disdain for people who suck at life i suppose.

when i'm not myself (thanks john mayer)

i think this post is more for my own benefit than that of anyone who may take the 3 minutes to read it. i know i haven't been myself for a while now, but i promise that if people give me the chance i'll make it back there eventually. unfortunately, there is no map and it seems like whenever i feel as though i'm getting back to the old lo something bites my ass again. this time it was another episode of paramedics and the emergency room which often leaves me with the inability to sleep and therefore i'm just a constant zombie. i don't mean to neglect my near and dear, but it always seems to happen. its a strange sort of self-preservation, but also a sick cycle that i'm not quite sure how to break.
i don't want to be the downer, but i know i have been lately. and now i feel as though i'm starting to pay for it. i don't want to be blamed, i'm just trying to survive and get through each day as it comes. i feel like this is all anyone can truly expect from anyone ever. this is compounded by the fact that i have an aversion to asking for help. it is to the point where if i happened to be in the desert dying of thirst and there was a man ten feet from me with plenty of water, i probably wouldn't ask him because it would mean inconveniencing him and making him walk ten feet in my direction. its infuriating but demonstrated by the fact that i need a ride to the airport on thursday afternoon, but i won't ask anyone because i don't want them to do anything that might interrupt their schedules. so instead, i'll drive myself and pay the $40 to park for the weekend. isn't the first step realization of your idiocy?