Guilty Pleasure: Katy Perry | Teenage Dream


Ok, you've got me. While my trustworthy cultural cohort Roy Shay poetically expounds on the wonder that is selvage denim, I find myself here, gullibly contemplating the high and low points of the new Katy Perry video. Alas, we can't be all class, all the time. And so it is that I throw my more refined scruples to the wind, and wish that I too was cruising the California coast in a vintage beamer, a carefree cutie by my side and a caravan of colorful cohorts trailing closely behind. Yeah... Me and a legion of 13-year-olds. We're all sharing this same fantasy. Right now.

And maybe that's what worries me. Certainly not even I am above guilty pleasures. But the celestial pop princess has taken over summer, promoting sweets, skin, surf and sexual innuendo. On one level, I love it. It's fodder for endless laughs. And, I'd much rather have Ms. Perry dominating the airwaves, because I know she's in on the joke. The same can't be said of Ke$ha and the like. But watching her "skin tight jeans" slowly snake their way down her silky thighs and hearing her purr about going "all the way tonight" I realize that maybe—more so even than cupcake bras spewing whip cream from their cherries on top—my dear Katy may be stuffing kids heads with thoughts of, well, going all the way tonight. Then again, if not her, someone else, and I've already said that I'd rather it be her. So I'll leave the condemnations to the conservatives, and leave you, dear readers, with a roll call of conflicted interests flying at me like bugs hitting a convertible BMW dashboard as it speeds to the beach. With Katy Perry in the passenger seat.

—Joshua P. Ferguson

Wants

To see life through this lens filter.

To live in Cali.

His car.

To get drunk on the beach.

More tattoos. Shit, one tattoo.

Friends with dumpy pick-up trucks.

Or convertibles. (just not a Seabring).

My missing puzzle piece. (Seriously, I can’t finish this fall landscape scene without it).

To race you to the water in my boxers.

His workout schedule.

A back alley dance party.

Especially one with flares.

To run away and never look back.

Or no regrets.

Sex in a pool more often (sorry fellow swimmers).

To spend a night in a stereotypical roadside motel room.

Katy Perry. Duh.

Worries

She still wears Diesel jeans? Really? Stylist alert.

"No regrets, just love." Come on Katy, you're sexier when you're being funny. Or pervy.

That these kids are too hip for their own good.

About “Native American” hipster trends.

That Letterman jackets are the hipster trend for fall.

That a "California Loves You” hat is trying too hard.

That Katy’s parents will not approve of “going all the way.” Hey kid! Yours won’t either.

That “this is real.”

That I’ve listened to this song 10x in a row.

That after all this, I’ll still look forward to playing this song this weekend.

That all token black guys will have to start looking like members of TV on the Radio.

Katy Perry. Duh.



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