By Rachel Krueger
Proposition: Ostensible tweenstress Miley Cyrus is, in fact, an aging dowager.
While her bio and her boobs say she’s still well shy of 20, Miley Cyrus’s actions have all the quiet desperation of a washed-up starlet three times her age. The navel-exposing Myspaced photos “leaked” in 2008 are the closest to a sex-tape Hannah Montana could get without getting her blond-wigged ass fired. And while her Disney persona is still too intact for her to have been technically “pole dancing” at the Teen Choice Awards, she was in fact dancing with a pole, giving salacious-headline-writers a way to kill time. She’ll also be cameoing in the upcoming Sex and the City 2 movie, sure to win the approbation of desperate housewives and edgy gam-gams alike.
And let us not forget this get-up, from this year’s Oscars:
That is a support under-garment, a very sparkly, very formal Mother of the Groom skirt in Old-Lady-Beige, and Jamie-Lee Curtis’s hair from that scene in True Lies where she tries to be a sexy stripper. In 1994.
La Cyrus is finally taking the last step towards cat-ladydom: getting her own place. While other 17-year olds are slamming doors, sneaking out of windows and sullenly refusing dinner, Miley will be lounging parentless in her “really Zen” and “so chill” new home, burning incense and trying to convince the kids that she’s still hip. “My religion is love, so my door is always open,” she says, as the last of her youth goes up in patchouli-smelling smoke.