During a recent interview to promote her “Make Roar Happen” classroom initiative with Staples, Katy Perry, the 13-year-old Nightmare-playing ICQ-chatting tattoo choker-wearing teenage girl trapped in the body of a 29-year-old wealthy Santa Barbara woman, confessed to Yahoo (via UsWeekly) that she sort of wishes she actually went to school when she was a kid instead of touring the country yodeling for Jesus, because she could use the extra brain smarts:
“I was being pulled out of school even in the middle of school and sometimes being home schooled. Sometimes we were sent to these really half-Christian, half-education, I-don’t-know-what-they-were schools. I’m kind of bummed at this stage that I didn’t have a great education because I could really use that these days.”
But the Cultural Aprorpriation Queen admits that it’s not just cultures she’s hungrily snatching at; she’s also trying to appropriate knowledge:
“I’ve learned to educate myself at this stage and how to continue my education at any age. I’m going on 30 and I’m still very thirsty for information. On tour, we go to different museums and get to soak up all kinds of different cultural experiences.”
Considering the last museum Katy Perry went to was a witch museum (and even then, she really only went for the gift shop), I don’t count on seeing Katy hitting the Daily Double on Jeopardy! any time soon. And that’s fine! Katy doesn’t need to be smart! The best version of Katy is the one who makes messy historically-inaccurate Cleopatra-themed music videos and thinks Grant Wood was the first person to paint goths.
Besides, doesn’t she know that you only get dumber as you get older? The other day I forgot what that thing which takes your temperature is called. The best I could come up with was “heat stick”, and I got admitted to college on a scholarship! Katy, do what I did and stop fighting it; accept your inner dummy. Cool it with the smart people shit like museums and art galleries, and start embracing dumb people shit Say Yes To The Dress: Bridesmaids and that Kim Kardashian iPhone game. Trust me, what’s left of your brain will thank you.
Because she’s currently an edgy 13-year-old in 1996 who lives for The Craft, Katy Perry did like any rebellious Ouija-obsessed pentagram-wearing teen girl would do and snuck off to Salem during a trip to Boston this weekend. According to People, Katy participated in the Salem Witch Walk, visited the witch museum, and stopped by Salem’s oldest witch store, Crow Haven Corner, where they performed a witchcraft “love ritual” for her (I guess because her magic love rocks stopped working).
Crow Haven Corner didn’t elaborate on what was involved in their “love magic”, but I’m hoping they made sure all of the newt eyes and frog foreskins they used were 100% vinegar-free to avoid attracting any more douchebags. Not that it would matter; unless those three witches (who sort of look like the Chicos-wearing wine-drinking suburban mom version of The Sanderson Sisters) have the power to break the spell on Katy’s cursed pussy, she’ll still keep finding sleazy losers to make poor fuck choices with.
And I really hope that hot cream-colored chihuahua in the bow tie participated in the love ritual, even if he looks like doesn’t want anything to do with this mess. I know a shade-laced doggy side-eye when I see it! It looks like he’s thinking to himself “It’s too bad they didn’t have time to cast a live singing spell.” NO! Katy Perry has a beautiful live singing voice that doesn’t sound at all like an out-of-breath stray cat howling into an empty tuna can. If anything, those witches should be begging Katy for some of her gorgeous voice so they can resell it to tone-deaf angels and down-on-their-luck mermaids.
After boring us all into a coma last month with human chloroform-soaked rag Lana Del Zzzzz, Rolling Stone decided to violently shake our asses awake by putting a migraine-triggering Katy Perry on the cover this month. I wasn’t entirely sold on the whole “90s Claire’s sale rack realness” until I saw those gorgeous squared-off French tip acrylics she has on her fingers. Exquisite porn star blow job nails are always the look.
But for those of you looking at Katy’s nails and that choker made from anal beads like “I see this bitch has resorted to snatching at porn star culture now”, Katy Perry would like you to know she’s not blatantly ripping off shit because she’s a clueless middle-class white chick from Santa Barbara. She’s ripping off Egypt and Geishas because she appreciates shit at a deeper level. Like when she dressed up her backup dancers as Nicki Minaj-looking mummies; they weren’t supposed to be hoochie mamas, they were an homage to surgery-obsessed Beverly Hills-types:
“As far as the mummy thing, I based it on plastic surgery. Look at someone like Kim Kardashian or Ice-T’s wife, Coco. Those girls aren’t African-American. But it’s actually a representation of our culture wanting to be plastic, and that’s why there’s bandages and it’s mummies. I thought that would really correlate well together… It came from an honest place. If there was any inkling of anything bad, then it wouldn’t be there, because I’m very sensitive to people.”
Although she understands that some people took offense to it, so from now on, she’ll only do white people things, like wearing Tevas and pouring ranch dressing on everything:
“I guess I’ll just stick to baseball and hot dogs, and that’s it. I know that’s a quote that’s gonna come to fuck me in the ass, but can’t you appreciate a culture? I guess, like, everybody has to stay in their lane? I don’t know.”
And it doesn’t matter that you think she’s a sloppy copycat, because Katy Perry says Katy Perry is the hardest working bovine in the business:
“Every show day, from the moment I wake up, it’s just prep for that night. It’s like I’m a Kobe beef cow.”
But one thing she isn’t ready to culturally appropriate just yet is mom jeans and pregnancy farts, because she’s too busy playing dress-up to catch a case of fetus fever:
“I want to be doing that in the right time. And that’s not in the next two years, you know? Maybe it’s in a five-year plan, but I need to really be able to focus 100 percent of my attention on it. I don’t really want to take the child on tour. Not until, like, birth through five is over.”
I’m glad Katy doesn’t want to take a baby on tour, because I can’t imagine how confused that baby would be. “So, is my mom the Cleopatra-looking one, or the pastel LSD fairy, or the budget Hot Topic Catra? Where’s the one who shoots whipped cream from her tits? I want that one. Baby’s hungry.”
In a move that totally isn’t an obvious act of blatant damage control, Katy Perry has challenged the claim that she’s a song-stealing dork-sided gorgyle by proving she’s still cool with the big man upstairs by tweeting about the religious experience she had during a recent show in Florida. I know what you’re thinking: religious experience + Florida = she saw a drunk diamond named Angel get arrested for giving a sloppy blow job to a cheeseburger in a Waffle House parking lot. Sadly, no; it involved an angel, but not one that just came from a Daytona Beach bike show.
My favorite part of the night was when I was singing By the Grace of God & a little white feather (presumably from a costume) floated by…
— KATY PERRY (@katyperry) July 3, 2014
& it reminded me about the angels & how, maybe, they are still looking after me, helping me continue to put one foot in front of the other.
— KATY PERRY (@katyperry) July 3, 2014
DUH – of course there are angels watching her ass. God needs to make sure those two giant investments he gave Katy are protected. God invented gravity, so he knows that her tits will be the first to hit the ground if she fell, so God he hired two angels to follow her around and whisper “Don’t forget Katy! Always put one foot in front of the other when walking!” to make sure she remains upright.
Then again, maybe God and angels don’t exist, and that feather was just from a dead pigeon that got caught in an air vent, and Katy mistook it for an angel feather because she was tripping balls from inhaling all that freon-laced Florida air. Yeah, that’s it.
“They call me Metamucil, baby, cause I’m smooth going down and I’ll lower your cholesterol. And by cholesterol, I mean panties.”
Katy Perry is currently in Washington DC for her Prismatic Tour and she skipped vocal practice to visit the White House. If Katy is anything like me (aka dumb and/or not-smart) she probably rolled up to the White House expecting to run into Betsy and Arlene, but instead she ran into sexy silver-haired septuagenarian Vice President Joe Biden. Katy posted a picture of the two of them to Instagram and even though most men his age are technically in the falling-asleep-to-golf-on-the-couch chapter of their life, Joe proved he’s still a charismatic oldie by macking on Katy like he had a full Cialis prescription in his pocket. Katy captioned the picture:
“Brought my pink pony to the White House to holler @VP Joe Biden. #wheninwashington p.s. He made me call my 93 year old grandma to thank her for my baby blue eyes! What a Q-T”
Then Joe Biden commented on Katy’s hair, saying: “You know who else had dark hair like yours? Monica Lewinsky. Say, why don’t I show you around Bill Clinton’s old office and I could ‘not have sexual relations’ with you’, if you catch my drift. Wink! In case you’re not clear, I’m referring to a blow job. Or as I call it, a “Joe Fun”. Why? Cause it doesn’t feel like work when you’re with Joey B!”
Then Katy excused herself and he shouted: “Maybe we can grab a drink after your show? I’ll pick you up around 9 in a red Mustang convertible with an airbrushed panther on the hood. Oh, and tell your grandma she’s welcome to come too! Joey B don’t discriminate!”
If you’ve ever wondered how Katy Perry, seen here looking like the non-threatening Forever 21 version of Enid Coleslaw, is able to consistently land such top-shelf, high-quality refined gentlemen, like turbo-douche John Mayer, human jizz rag Russell Brand, and glue-huffing Miami bedbug Riff Raff, she’s finally revealed her secret to Cosmo. Katy follows her nose to the scent of patchouli and Himalayan salt lamps to the New Age store where she stuffs her pockets full of healing energy crystals and releases her dick-hungry energy to the universe:
“I guess I happen to be attracted to high-frequency men. I carry a lot of rose quartz, which attracts the male,” Perry continues, referring to carrying crystals around for their energy. “Maybe I need to calm it down with the amethyst.”
I don’t know the name of the New Age store where Katy bought her rose quartz (why do I get the feeling it was called Gentle Wynds or Earth Spirits) but I think Ras Trent’s girlfriend accidentally sold her petrified nuggets of calcified vinegar, because the only male she seems to attract are douches. Or maybe that’s one of the mystical powers of rose quartz? “Rose Quartz opens the heart chakra, balances negative energy, and will draw assholes to you like stoners to a drum circle.”
Talk about the pot of plagiarism calling the copycat kettle black. After Katy Perry kicked off her Prismatic World Tour in Belfast, Ireland on Wednesday night, the general consensus from most people who saw the pictures from her first show was ‘California Guuurl you need to burn those peace sign bike shorts”. But not Lady Gaag. The Canal St. Madonna thought the picture of Katy Perry riding in on a human-operated horse costume looked a little too much like the time she rode a human-operated horse costume, so she went running to Twitter to hiss out this piece of passive-aggressive shade:
Then Lady Gaag bitchily slammed her locker shut and added: “Like, why is she so obsessed with me? Hashtag so over it.”
Lady Gaag didn’t invent dying your hair snot green and she sure as hell didn’t invent riding human-operated mechanical animals (War Horse would like you to have several seats) but Katy Perry might have ripped off Gaag’s paint barfing thing. I know, I cannot believe for a second I’m defending this tacky chump, but here we are. My apologies to everyone in Hell who had to throw on a winter coat. According to Buzzfeed, part of her Prismatic show involves a pre-recorded video of Katy Perry sticking her finger into her mouth and spitting up paint. Green paint. Kind of like the time professional paint-barf artist Millie Brown puked up green paint on Lady Gaga.
Maybe it’s just a coincidence that two boring try-hards are starting to run out of ideas? I don’t know. But I do know how we could solve this mess. After being asked by Byrd to step forward, Lady Gaga would enter the courtroom of Judge Judith Sheindlin claiming that Katy Perry blatantly stole her paint barfing stunt. Katy Perry would enter claiming she had no previous knowledge and that she was counter-suing for slander. Then Judge Judy would walk in rolling her eyes, call them both idiots, throw out the case, and go back to her chambers to finish starching her lace collars.
Last night, executives at Katy Perry’s label tore up her contract while screaming, “Well, what do we have then?!”, after she told Jimmy Kimmel that she’s sick of doing sexy videos where her tits are hanging out. Katy told late-night STUNT QUEEN Jimmy Kimmel that his “biggest twerk fail ever” stunt inspired her to prank real children’s birthday parties for the video for her new single “Birthday.” Katy went undercover as 5 of the worst birthday entertainers and one of them was a trashy, drunk, thug clown (no, not Justin Bieber) who ruined a kid’s birthday party. That sounds like a fitting and a totally sensical video concept for a song that’s basically about how Katy Perry’s going to let her birthday boyfriend titty fuck her before he eats cake frosting off of her twat. Here’s a piece of the lyrics:
So let me get you in your birthday suit
It’s time to bring out the big balloons
So let me get you in your birthday suit
It’s time to bring out the big, big, big, big, big, big balloons
Boy, when you’re with me
I’ll give you a taste
Make it like your birthday everyday
I know you like it sweet
So you can have your cake
Give you something good to celebrate
Anyway, Katy played Kimmel a clip where she traumatizes the children by failing to hit the pinata before stumbling into the street where she “causes” a car accident. Katy’s whole act was staged, but TMZ says that none of the children or parents were in on it. TMZ posted a longer clip and they say that scars grew on those children’s innocence as they cried and asked to go home.
Since my heart is a pile of dried-up vulture shit, I smile whenever I see kids crying over clowns, but those kids are total drama queens. So a drunk in a jacked-up outfit took over the pinata stick and ruined the party? Big deal. That happened at all of my birthday parties growing up. It could’ve been a lot worse and Katy could’ve really given those chirrun a reason to cry. I mean, she could’ve performed that “Birthday” song live for them.
Regardless of whether or not you’re a religious person, you should probably slap your hands together and bust out a prayer for the freon-huffing grill-wearing Florida bedbug, Riff Raff, because he is going to be absolutely devastated when he hears that the love of his life has moved on to douchier pastures. If anyone needs your thoughts and prayers today, it’s him. I mean, he needs them anyways, because his life is a fucking mess, but today he’s really going to need them.
According to Page Six, Katy Perry has given us yet another square to block off on our Oh, Here We Go bingo cards by hooking up with DJ/producer Diplo. The two were seen (don’t do it, Allison) CANOODLING backstage at Coachella, with a source saying:
“It was very obvious that Katy and Diplo were together. They seemed inseparable and at one point they were seen getting onto her bus together.”
Getting on a bus together? Slow down, sluts!
I’m sure Diplo is a very nice person, and I’m not making fun of him per-se, but I think we can all agree that DJs are pretty high on the douche spectrum. With that being said, I shouldn’t be surprised that Katy is currently rubbing her dark horse parts on Diplo; ever since she split with The Douchebag King, she’s been trying to fill the douche-scented hole he left in her heart, and there’s no more concentrated form of douche than a guy who gets paid millions of dollars to press buttons on an iPod.
I would think that Katy Perry wouldn’t want to dye her hair mold green since it would remind her of the slimy swamp smegma that drips out of John Mayer’s dick, but she said she was going to go slimer green, so she kept her promise. Katy threw this picture up on Instagram of her looking like Oscar the Grouch’s Emo daughter. I hate that booger green color and mostly because it brings back the painful and traumatic memories of when I shit green for two days and thought I was dying or had fungus growing in my asshole. Yes, I probably have fungus growing in my asshole, but the green shit was from a black cherry slushie from Burger King. So thanks for that, Katy.