if i were britney's assistant...

i didn't tune in to mtv's vmas last night, but i did catch a glimpse of britney spears' performance this morning on perez hilton. though i must admit the song is hot, i watched in honest horror for her as she marked her way through what could probably have been good choreography. she looked like she could barely stand in those heels, let alone really dance with any zeal. i wonder if the z-list in the back of the venue could even see her, her moves were so small. during those blessed moments when she needed only to stand, she couldn't even muster up the stage presence to strike a fierce, cocky pose. her insecurity, especially as the piece wore on and on, was palpable. the proof is in the pudding: she partied all week and didn't rehearse. if i were evaluating her as a dance camper, she'd be getting the ol' snowball -- the white ribbon-- and the accompanying speech: "keep practicing and once you get the memory, you'll really be able to have fun and smile!"

i'm mainly just sad and confused for her. britney doesn't have the discipline to force herself to work on this momentous performance. never before has the fact that the media sustains itself off her poor judgment hit home like this. every television executive and poptart wrangler stepped aside to let this disaster unfold. she looked like an amateur imitating her former self. without a shred of schadenfreude, i thought about how she has two little boys, both hopefully oblivious to how ridiculous their momma looks in front of millions of people.

i wish she'd follow the footsteps of her mentor, madonna: reinvent thyself! the fashion knowledge i have would fill a scintilla of toilet paper, but i still think i could have gleefully been her stylist. i offer four simple tips:

1) kick the weaves. take it from me: you chopped off all your hair, so you gotta own it. rock out a short retro cut with platinum chunks like p!nk does, or just go ubershort like annie lennox.

2) less is...less. i don't think your body looks that trashed after two kids, but who are we kidding? those hotpants are making your muffin-top rise, girl. let's find something black and glittery, but corseted, covering, and confining. hold that junk in there a little.

3) dancers are there to dance. until you can learn to juggle it all, just sing. pay the young, talented dancers many, many dollars to dance and, hell, gyrate on and grapple you, if you must, but just friggin' stand there, look mildly amused at them, and sing.

4) nail tips are so nineties. if you feel you must glue plastic to your fingers, at least go with a natural or nude look. that french manicure betrays your redneck past.

what would you suggest?