I don't even know any more.
[Photo: INFDaily.com]
The face of the woman in that revolving door pretty much says it all. Put yourself in Katy Perry's shoes: You wake up, you know you have some sort of public appearance today, so you go stand in front of your closet and try and figure out what would look best on you. Then, you VOLUNTARILY pull out a pair of purple acid-wash jeans -- which you had to expend considerable effort even to LOCATE, including phoning every Goodwill store within a ten-mile radius -- and slowly step into them.
I've already lost most of you, right? You're already like, "Forget it -- I am not high." And I haven't even GOTTEN to the part where you strap on tight Velcro high-tops, a starry tank top, and a sweatshirt that is an incomplete tribute to Hershey's Miniatures. Which no human being should ever do, because in addition to looking like a screen shot from a really old Sesame Street segment brought to you by the letters L, S, and D, it ALSO violates the sanctity of that bag of candy by totally forgetting the Krackel. Seriously, Katy, WHITHER THE KRACKEL? Do not dis the Krackel.
So... I give up on Katy. I'm forced to conclude that she just wants her picture taken -- just like all the other boring starlets and singers in this business. All that effort to try and stand out -- to be quirky for the sake of quirky -- and in the end, she's still just like the rest of them.
[Photo: INFDaily.com]
The face of the woman in that revolving door pretty much says it all. Put yourself in Katy Perry's shoes: You wake up, you know you have some sort of public appearance today, so you go stand in front of your closet and try and figure out what would look best on you. Then, you VOLUNTARILY pull out a pair of purple acid-wash jeans -- which you had to expend considerable effort even to LOCATE, including phoning every Goodwill store within a ten-mile radius -- and slowly step into them.
I've already lost most of you, right? You're already like, "Forget it -- I am not high." And I haven't even GOTTEN to the part where you strap on tight Velcro high-tops, a starry tank top, and a sweatshirt that is an incomplete tribute to Hershey's Miniatures. Which no human being should ever do, because in addition to looking like a screen shot from a really old Sesame Street segment brought to you by the letters L, S, and D, it ALSO violates the sanctity of that bag of candy by totally forgetting the Krackel. Seriously, Katy, WHITHER THE KRACKEL? Do not dis the Krackel.
So... I give up on Katy. I'm forced to conclude that she just wants her picture taken -- just like all the other boring starlets and singers in this business. All that effort to try and stand out -- to be quirky for the sake of quirky -- and in the end, she's still just like the rest of them.
