Things seem to be happening too fast for poor SuBo. Producers were forced to cancel her appearance on the Britain’s Got Talent concert tour for the third time after hotel guests at the Radisson SAS in Liverpool saw Susan bawling: “Where’s my cat?” on the balcony of her eighth floor hotel room Thursday.
No, no, no, no! Britney 101 teaches you it’s “My pussy’s hangin’ out!” not “I want to hang out with my pussy!”
Soooooooooo close!
Unlike Britney’s cooter kitten, you hang in there Susan! You can do this! Take deep breaths. That’s good. Now, shave your head. Excellent! You’re doing great! Oh crap! STOP! You’re not ready for that! Please put some panties on!! ARRRRRRRRRRRGH!
(Not willing to wait for Susan Boyle’s Shakespearian tragedy to play out in real time? Check out the Susan Boyle timeline, which maps out the overnight sensation’s past, present and future. I warn you – it’s not pretty.)
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It’s not her fault she can’t handle fame. I just sang a Hall & Oates tune to my husband a capella and it sounded like I was strangling a cat. (There’s my obligatory pussy reference.)
He didn’t recognize the song, I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do)–that’s how bad it was. I’m so traumatized, I’m going to need meds just to sing in the shower!
Susan, when are you going to get a good attorney and sue the crap out of all these papers?