And if she wants them back, she can call 1-800-EAT-SHIT, because they’re property of The Vatican now. Anything that’s touched Katy Perry’s anointed chichis are considered a religious artifact and are immediately sent FedEx overnight to Pope Francis, where they’re then packed into a rocket and blasted off into space (that’s where God lives, right?)
I’m still coming down from the contact high I got from those truly inspired gowns Katy wore to the Grammy’s, so I can’t look directly at the Red Roof Inn bedspread dress/cape/bqq cover Katy wore to The Night That Changed America event last night. It reminds me too much of the toilet paper cover doll from my nana’s bathroom, and it’s giving me the fear. If you’re more brave and less high than me (bless you, child) you can try to take a stab at it, and please report back to me if it turns into a Magic Eye picture and the image that pops out is an eagle or Kim Kardashian at the Costume Institute gala or something.
But forget about that entire bolt of Jo-Ann Fabrics clearance bin satin for a second. What I’m most offended by are those cheap clip-on bangs; Shh…It’s a Wig would like a word with you Katy. Clip-on bangs are the whippet-huffing high school drop-out daughter of those fake hair ponytail holders (who themselves are the recently-fired-from-Walmart-for-stealing Revlon-foundation wife of those visors with Guy Fieri hair).