When I got too fat in college (yeah, I went, kinda) and burst a pair of my pants trying to drunk dance on top of a car, all I got was humiliated, ticketed, and a cold winter chill up my ass. I wish I had handlers like Mariah Carey. Concerned girls with headsets who come keep me from public indecency in the moments my flesh mounds defy their corset restraints. Word is Mariah has seven such girls who follow her everywhere. One girl’s job is to make sure Mariah doesn’t fall down the stairs. Another girl makes sure Mariah has the proper toilet paper to pepper her smears. And one girl’s job is to let Nick Cannon bang her in the ass while wearing a Mariah wig. Mariah has no time for any of this. She has a couple young kids she needs to see every other Tuesday for an hour. The caged bird has to sing.