I'll give you more.

Oh, Britney. My heart rings out for you.

People might say that you're washed up and that, horror of horrors, you're fat; I digress.

These same people (or at least the men) would still love to have you over for dinner. How about an appetizer of a flaming Fellatio del Fuego with your company? Or the flexibility of a meal like Copulation Ala Carte? And perhaps, for dessert, a good, solid Creampie.

The naysayers see no future for you; they say that there's no hope left. But there's always a light at the end of the tunnel, especially if the light rushes in, like a gushing geyser of overwhelming fire, filling up the tunnel with such brilliance that even the most numb would feel the slightest prick.

What you need, like the song suggests, is more.

I'm waiting.

But of course I am.