In honour of “Disney” Miley Cyrus

miley-cyrus-vanity-fair1With all the hysteria about Miley’s twerking and her naked wrecking ball ride, I’m reminded of a Dear Diary that I wrote for the Post in 2008.

I imagined Miley’s diary entries around the time she appeared topless-ish on the cover of Vanity Fair. Here’s a rewind:

This was published in the National Post on Saturday, May 3 2008


Hey D. UR not going to believe this. Remember that, like, totally cool photo shoot I did for Vanity Fair? Well, everyone’s now calling me a skank. ‘Cuz I showed my back! The newspapers are all like, “Miley’s Shame” and “Look at what a skank she is.” And I’m like, what?!? It’s not like I’m 12. Or pregnant. Daddy was super-peeved about the headlines, too. He said: “Those peeps are wack. Your Pops will smack-alack them in the face!” Whatever that means. So I just sang Achy Breaky Heart to calm him down. Later, I got a text from my best friend Lesley: “I thought U looked hot.” Yeah, me too.


OMG. Had an emergency meeting with the head dudes at Disney. They were all seated around the boardroom dressed in costumes, as usual. Minnie’s all like: “Miley, you’re ruining the magic.” And Goofy was covering his eyes. I guess I shouldn’t have worn the tube top. My bad. I told them to chillax: “Kids are stupid, we’ll just tell them that the girl in the mag was actually Hannah Montana.” Sheesh. You make a company a gazillion dollars and they crap all over your head.


Lesley texted me: “Hillary Duff is trashing U.” What a bee-atch! Like she should talk. I saw her last music video. All half-naked and grindy. Lizzie McSleazy. I typed back: “I h8 her.” I stormed into my room, but Daddy was there again wearing one of my blonde Hannah wigs, holding my Teen Choice Award and giving a thank-you speech to my stuffed animals. He goes: “Oh hey! Waddup baby girl? Are we hangin? Fo sheezy!” Then he leaves and says: “TTYL.” He’s, like, so weird.


This man came by the house this afternoon. He was, like, 1,000 years old. And probably senile, ‘cuz he was wearing a bathrobe. He asked Daddy if I would one day pose for his magazine. Daddy was, like, “No,” but kept his business card. Maybe the geezer works for another Disney or Nickelodeon. His card had bunnies on it.


I was shopping in Valentino with the girls when a mom came up to me with her kids. She stuck her finger in my face and went: “Behave or they may retitle your memoirs, ‘Hannah Does Montana.’ ” Lady, who you think I am? Britney? Daddy apologized for the bad advice about doing the shoot. He was, like, I didn’t want you to end up like me, all old and uncool and whatever. TGIF. The Jonas Brothers dropped by with some weed. They call it Mary Jonas. LOL. Mary Jonas.


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