Sunday, August 22, 2010

Backup Dancers From Hell: Katy Perry - “Teenage Dream”

So we’re in a convertible, cruising down some nameless highway. It’s probably in California, because as Katy gleefully sang in her last hit, every other state in the country totally sucks. Katy’s hair is blowing in the wind, looking all pretty and everything, but that girl is going to need some de-tangler, stat. Right as I think that, Katy starts pawing at her tresses, so she’s already got some birds and road debris caught up in there.

She calms down for a few seconds, and sings softly without really moving, so we can see that she has some nice designer sunglasses on. They probably cost more than my house. But she looks pretty hot, which is the whole point, right? Doesn’t matter what the words are.

Oh look, her companion, the driver, is pretty hot as well, all scruffy and gazing at her with barely concealed passion. Which is a nice way to be gazed at, but really, shouldn’t he be watching the road?

Then we cut to a gym somewhere, so the driver can show us that he has other talents, like the ability to take off his shirt while squatting on the floor, and can wrap his own hands in a very tattered Ace bandage. And he can bounce around on his feet while staring at a punching bag, using basically the same look that he gave Katy back in the car, so there might be some unresolved anger issues.

Speaking of the convertible, we’re back in it, with the camera lingering on the car keys dangling from the dashboard, just so we can know they do have permission to be driving this car and didn’t just steal it. Katy’s suddenly very tired, probably from all that wind drag, and is laying back in her seat, singing some more. Then she decides she’s not all that sleepy and starts pawing on the driver, warbling about going all the way tonight. She frisky.

The beat of the song really kicks in, along with Katy’s libido, and the driver is inspired to floor it, so they can hurry up and get somewhere that Katy can satisfy her burning needs. The increased velocity causes Katy to shove her head up into the wind stream again, so I guess she didn’t learn anything the first time she did that.

As startled insects bounce off Katy’s fluttering eyelids, she spies some folks in a nearby red truck. They appear to be bellowing rednecks, so I’m not sure that we should be having anything to do with them. Katy agrees and throws her arm in the air in defiance. This causes another convertible to come along, apparently occupied by The Village People. (Why else would one of them be wearing an Indian headdress?)

Katy likes these folks better, so she alternates between reaching toward their car with welcoming abandon and groping her own driver’s crotch. This goes on for a while until somebody reminds The Village People that they don’t matter anymore, and they drive off.

Now we’re in a parking lot near the ocean, with lots of people who didn’t have enough clothes to complete their outfits or mistakenly thought they were attending a college lecture. Katy high-fives her driver, because they’re still the cutest couple. Then they flirt for a bit, happy and carefree because they’re young and don’t have any credit-card debt.

Then the driver spies something on the back of Katy’s neck, probably road kill, which inspires him to flop her on the hood of a car and give her a few smooches while she undulates and waves her arms over her head.

This inspires them to run to a nearby hotel, where apparently there are some cleaning-staff issues, because the bed in their room hasn’t been made. This doesn’t seem to be a problem, as the driver proceeds to hurl Katy on the bed and they both start ripping their clothes off in a frenzy. (Maybe they only paid for one hour.)

So now we’re cutting back and forth between the couple as they dance by the beach and have sex on the beach-themed bed. For added entertainment during this montage, the crowd in the parking lot decides it’s really hot out here, so everybody starts ripping off various bits of clothing (like it was really necessary, considering how skimpy everything was to begin with) and running into the ocean.

This three-way goes on for a while, with the dancing, the stripping and running and splashing, and the very agile sex in the cheesy motel room. We get to see Katy’s panties, the odd bruises on the driver, and the startlingly large package on some dude in a Speedo. I guess in California everybody is really horny and really well-endowed. That seems to be the motif.

I guess a bell rang and the happy people had to get back to class, because we suddenly see Katy, her hair nicely-coiffed despite her adventures, standing in a school hallway and fiddling with her locker. She happens to spy the driver punching his bag in the conveniently-nearby gym, and she has to stop and stare. He pummels, she drools, fingering her locker door. Then she gently closes her locker, and of course the driver can hear this tiny click over the sounds of his huffing and pounding. They gaze at one another with lust and devotion.

Then we wrap things up in a parking lot. It might be the same one from earlier, but it’s hard to tell because it’s now dark and there are distracting elements like guys on skateboards and somebody on a cross-country bike. Oh, and several girls exploring their lesbian side, popping each other’s bubble gum with their lips and exchanging delicate kisses. It’s nice that Katy doesn’t judge her friends and welcomes all.

Somebody hands out road flares for the rousing final dance number, which is choreographed to indicate that everybody got crabs while running on that beach. Lots of jumping and drink-throwing. And intimate popsicle-sucking. And hair-flipping. These people are really talented.

We end with Katy and the driver going at it again in a swimming pool. This proves that they must really be in love, because chlorine burns, right? If you can tolerate chemical abrasion, you were meant to be together…


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