Give me a call, sweetie.

I just remembered this and have been meaning to blog it, so I ran back over to jot it down:
A few weeks ago I dreamed that a friend of a friend knew Britney Spears and brought her to a picnic. And poor Brit, she was just sitting there, with her crimpy hair and in a pink sweatshirt, and I was telling her, "Listen, sweetie, I just want to help, you know? I really think I could give you some good tips. I'm not trying to hang out with a star; I just want to give you a makeover. And I really think you should listen to your mom about Kevin."

Seriously? This is kind of what I think every time I see a picture of her, but it cracked me up that my "celebrity fantasy" consists of taking Britney Spears to a good salon and getting her some Clearasil, not to mention a nice outfit and a pedicure.