We hear you. You’re not a little girl anymore. Hannah Montana has left the building. Got it.
But who and what are you, Miley? A club-drugged pleather-wearing stripper, with an unhealthy oversized teddy bear obsession? I’m worried about you, girl.
When you took that stage at the VMAs, you looked like someone trying desperately to impress your new group of friends, but sadly, I don’t think you had a friend in the room.
What were you doing with that oversized finger? (Or what WEREN’T you doing?) And I’d rather not even address the tongue. It’s officially the most overexposed body part since Janet Jackson’s boob …
You successfully made Robin Thicke look like a pedophile. Congrats … and damn you.
Listen, you’re not the first, and I’m sure you won’t be the last, to “pull a Britney” (“pulling a Britney” = trying to prove to the world you’re “not a girl, not yet a woman”). This whole act is not shocking. Ya know what would be shocking? Making a smooth transition from child star to pop-icon in a seamless, sleazeless way, without a brief stint as a porn star in between.
I’m not your mother (thank God), but I find myself wanting to lend you some motherly advice.
- Let’s you and me put an end to “Twerking.” I think we’d all live happier lives if we never saw that god-forsaken trend again.
- Somebody (preferably your father) needs to take you out to ice cream and remind you what’s cool about being a kid, and why it feels good to grow-up slowly.
- Lay off the drugs.
- Remember, if they don’t like you for you, then you don’t need em.
- Get unengaged … for good. You’re 20, the only thing you should be engaged in is prepping to legally purchase alcohol. (But I’m guessing that seems like a total snore to you.)
- Seriously, lay off the drugs. As Lindsay Lohan can tell you, there’s no DJ in rehab.
Now that I got that off my chest, I’m going to turn my attention to permanently imposing a parental control on the Disney Channel. I’m sure it will be no time at all until the child stars of today will be flushing their dignity down the toilet tomorrow.
Somebody Else’s Mom