there were two paths you could have taken and you took the jessica simpson off-ramp.

i dont know why i had higher hopes for you but i did.

i dont know why i expected you to see the comedy in femme-ing and whoring of snaggletoothed Jewel which you are obviously mimicking, but you missed the point.

the promise of a snarling canadian teengirl who shops exclusively at hot topic is that you imagine that with age she would evolve into something else than just another same-old pop chick off the assembly line of same-old pop chicks.

even though your first album was pretty much nothing more than top 40 pop chick syrup, you had a style and an attitude that gave this blogger hope for an edge that is oh so needed in this prozac nation.

believe it or not, we do not need avril lavigne in an oktoberfest-meets-cheap-trick dress, a matching guitar and blonde extentions.

believe it or not we need a return to the rock.

thank you for selling out teenage girls everywhere because now i can rest assured that my curling iron stocks will be fine.

oh avril.

look what theyve done to you.

little girl who once sat indian-style on a sink doing her own makeup before her gigs, flipping off the papparizzi, and shamelessly getting hammered with the classy dames of hollywood like ozzys daughter.

remember when you would go club hopping on sunset making out with pretty girls on the dancefloor, spitting at the cameras of celebrities uncensored, and giving the world a different idea of the girl who sang about skaterboys.

i knew the jig was up when you not only agreed to appear on the now-defunct ryan seacrest show, but when asked by the prettyboy if you prefered britney or christina you raised your fist and yelled BRITNEY to the approving squeals of the barely-teen young ladies in the crowd.

put your tie back on, take off that ridiculous dress, and yank those extensions out of your beautiful hair.

your country has yet finished working off the fine of giving the world celine dion, don’t you start with this bullshit.

they gave celine 5 years in rehab at caesars in vegas, keep this up and im going to make you open for kittie so that you can learn first hand what rock is about.

for it’s rock that is inside of you miss lavigne, not sugar and spice and everything nice.

please go back to mispronouncing david bowie’s name, and giving a look of whatevah when corrected.

when ashlee simpson is more punk rock than you someone has led you astray.

fire that motherfucker and come to the light, avril, come to the light.

a weekend with raymi is what you need + sk smith + rabbit blog