Backup Dancers From Hell: Katy Perry - “Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)”

Well, now. Katy and the gang have put together a little mini-movie for your viewing pleasure, packed with colorful characters, little plot and surprising guest stars. (It’s just like The Love Boat. Only totally not.) Here goes…

We start out with some paper boy doing his thing, on his bike and hurling his wares in a quaint little neighborhood that most of us can’t afford. We zoom in on one house, and travel to Katy’s bedroom, where she’s just waking up to find things are a bit amiss. The room is totally trashed, and rude people have passed out hither and yon. There’s even an actual chicken who is really perturbed about something.

Katy, who has glammed up her name by adding an “H” and is now known as Kathy, is sporting one of those torture-chamber headgear devices that many of us survived in our teeth-straightening years, as well as an outfit that can only be described as “victim of home-schooling”. She proceeds to not-so-subtly freak out about the condition of her room and what might have led to live poultry and a possibly-naked stud sharing the bed with her.

The door flies open, and “Aaron” sticks his head in, played by one Darren Criss, who has apparently done quite well on a tiny little show called Glee. Anyway, Aaron overlooks Kathy’s freaking, just wanting to thank her for a party well done, then he splits. Typical party guest. They break things and then they leave.

While geeky Kathy ganders at the devastation about her, she decides to sing about her life at the moment, as we all do when confronting unusual circumstances. She warbles about some shindig gone bad, then checks her online account to see a posted video of her licking the stomach of some guy named Steve, proclaiming her a goddess for her tongue work. How nice of him.

Kathy begins to recall the hazy details, and it seems that it all started with her innocently sitting in her little-girl-geek room, minding her own business and being unattractive. Her self-loathing awkwardness is interrupted by the strains of a major blowout coming from next door, where obnoxious people are drinking and doing stupid things only because there’s an audience and party streamers. You know, like your entire college experience.

Socially-inept but defiant, Kathy stomps to the offending house, where the door is answered by “Rebecca Black”, played by, um, Rebecca Black, she of the infamous mother-financed “Friday” music video that went viral earlier this year and has apparently been seen by the entire world. Except me. I guess she and Katy/Kathy got tight somewhere along the line.

Rebecca graciously invites Kathy into her dwelling, where tons of people are having a blast, guzzling anything liquid, and doing gymnastics. While Kathy takes this all in, spazzing geekily but excitedly, she is spotted by a fellow geek cadet (“Everett”, played by Kevin McHale, also from Glee.) He and his braces swoon over Kathy, and he briefly imagines them as Knight and Fair Lady back in Medieval times, rubbing teeth metal and wearing ugly, heavy clothes while standing in front of a fake castle.

Up comes a typical high-school jock, all full of attitude and testosterone. (This would be Steve, he who eventually gets the lint removed from his belly button by Kathy. But that’s later.) He blows off our heroine Kathy and instead tries to cozy up to some slut in denim, showing off is washboard abs as a sign of introduction. Kathy is a little blue about not being immediately bedded by the jock, so her new bestie Rebecca drags her upstairs for a makeover, because that’s what good friends do, try to completely change one another as soon as they meet.

We now have a nice sequence of fashion sprucing, including the replacing of tragic clothing with racy little snippets of stretchy material, the execution of lip hair via wax-enhanced ripping, and some breast redesign accomplished with structural enhancements. Oh, and they lose the headgear, an operation which nearly decapitates Rebecca when the tension is released on the steel hardware.

Cut to Kathy tottering down the stairs in purposely mis-matched high heels, breasts that could easily be floating around Jupiter, and enough jacked-up hair to wipe out a small town. (She’s still got her braces, natch, because you can only do so much dental work in a typical teen bedroom.) Of course, this immediately gets the attention of Jock Steve, who instantly ditches Denim Tramp and races to bask in the light reflecting off Kathy’s teeth.

So now the party has really started, and we get shots of Kathy and her hair having the time of their lives, playing video party games, drinking, and imagining that grown-up life is going to be just like this. There’s an extended dance-off sequence, where people are doing the robot, and even the geeks get to join in, letting us know that these folks are really inclusive and not Republican at all. (Well, maybe those shifty people in the corner might be, lying into their cell phones about where they really are, but we’ll ignore them for now.)

We also have a bit where Kathy and her jupiters leading the crowd as they chant the “T.G.I.F” bit of the song, with her being the center of attention because you can’t wear an outfit like that and not be the center of something. We transition to the backyard for the first of two startling surprises. First, it appears that Hanson is the band performing at the festivities. (Mmmm-what?) And then they are joined by Kenny G, blasting out a solo on his instrument.

Kenny G, people. (I know. It scared me, too.)

Everybody jams for a while, probably because with all of Kathy and Kenny’s hair blocking the exits, ain’t nobody going nowhere just yet. Then Kathy picks out her bestest new friends and leads them over to her house, where they can party in her room and admire her science fair ribbons. (There’s a brief shot of Kenny being crowd-surfed to somewhere else, but no explanation is given. It’s probably best that we don’t know.)

Eventually, as always happens with any good party, things start to go awry. Poor Kathy, not accustomed to alcohol and tight clothing, throws up in one of her pretty little roller skates. Then Jock Steve decides to grab him some Kathy butt, which offends Geeky Everett, who is still pining for Kathy. So Everett, fueled by another Medieval vision wherein he slays evil Stevie while a volcano erupts in the background, punches Steve, who promptly passes out on Kathy’s bed.

Kathy, maturing socially rather quickly, realizes it’s important to catch on to the latest trends as soon as possible, and she promptly passes out beside Steve. (Smart girl.) Everett, tenderly removing the glasses of his slumbering beloved, has another King Arthur vision wherein he and Kath and their amazing teeth-hydraulics live happily ever after.

Cut back to the present, where morning-after Kathy is still reeling from the shambles of her room and the snoring of her apparently new roommates. The door opens again (anybody in this place knock?) and this time it’s Corey Feldman and Debbie Gibson playing Kathy’s parents. (They look just as surprised to be together as we are to see them.)

They want Little Missy to explain things, like why is Kenny G sleeping on the couch and who framed Roger Rabbit? Kathy has a total geek-plosion in trying to explain that she somehow magically became an alcoholic tramp overnight. This eventually leads to Corey and Debbie fessing up that they used to have their own Friday-night fun back in the day, an image that we instantly hope is not about to be shown to us.

Luckily, Kathy decides that the best thing to do is just go back to bed, and the parents decide to go downstairs where we can’t see them, Debbie’s hair has more room to get comfortable, and Corey can stop acting like he’s channeling Charlie Sheen. Kathy leans back, grinning to herself, and lays her hand on Jock Steve’s abdomen, breathing nerdily as her fingers inch their way toward the blanket adorning his waist.

Careful, girl. No telling who you might find down there. (We haven’t seen Rebecca, Everett OR the chicken in quite a while. Sayin.)


Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.

Backup Dancers From Hell: Britney Spears - “Hold It Against Me”

Wow. This is one messed up video.

We start off somewhere in outer space, where a rude little meteor or flaming spacecraft of some kind has decided to attack the planet, or at least make a quick stop at the local Starbucks. Then we start seeing scenes of people prepping a really intense soundstage of some kind. People are racing about setting things up, while the camera is jumping around all over the place and low-paid staffers are making sure that Britney has the exact amount of contractually-defined jelly beans in her makeup room.

The flaming thing finally crash-lands, which first triggers the power grid to make everyone’s lights all pastel and pretty, then triggers Britney to walk out on that soundstage wearing a very industrial bra. This is followed by more jump-cutting, with close-ups of video equipment and ghostly people wearing underwear. (This might be something that happens all the time in L.A., but you’d get a shotgun pulled on you in Texas if your panties can glow in the dark.)

Oh wait, now Britney is singing, even though it’s clear that her backup dancers are still putting their pants on and not quite ready to thrust their crotches to the beat. (Britney must be in a hurry. There might be another family member that she needs to sue in order to regain control of her own life.) While the dancers try to hurry up and dress, Britney does a lot of things that involve showing us her armpits.

Look at that, Ms Britney If You’re Nasty is wearing a string of bullets as a useless but shiny belt. That’s nice, Brit. Let’s promote bullets in a world where so many people already don’t understand that those things can actually kill people. Then she tops this off by waving around a bottle of her own cologne, which is really important. I often watch music videos just so I can understand how I should smell.

The backup dancers are still trying to put clothing on, which is a little amazing, since these guys are clearly past the point of puberty, judging by the light-enhanced bulges in their skivvies. You’d think they’d know how to dress themselves by now. In a tragic moment of realism, we see that one of the dancers has apparently had his hair colored by former set designers on Fraggle Rock. Poor thing.

Next we have Britney waving her arms in a frenzy like Paul Revere just rode by on his horse, bellowing that we might have some uninvited dinner guests. Hearing this, Britney changes into an enormous dress where all of the non-hypocritical Republicans in America can hide under her skirt. (On second thought, it’s probably pretty lonely in there, so scratch that.) Then we have a montage of Britney in this all-white getup, touching her head and letting fans blow her hair about while her breasts fight to stay covered.

Oh look, there’s some type of hydraulic system in her panties, because Britney is now airborne. This prompts Brit to show us her fancy gloves and overdone eyeliner. (I’m just going to ignore the IV tubes she suddenly starts waving about, because neither she nor I have any valid explanation for THAT.) This leads to a montage of overly-caffeinated chorus boys hopping about and playing squat tag with the camera.

Britney decides to look something up online about the best places to find fish bait in America. Not really sure why this is critical, but it does allow her to prominently feature a “Sony” computer. I’m going to guess that they are sponsoring her in some way. Or maybe Brit thinks SONY stands for Sluts of Negligent Yearning and she really wants to be a part of that.

Very brief scene with Britney’s lips paying homage to the start of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show”. Something tells me this part had to be explained to her.

Weird scene with Britney having a small meltdown whilst surrounded by hundreds of microphones. Was it really wise to go there, Miss Impromptu Haircut?

Okay, good, now we have some dancing, which is something basic that we can all understand. I’m a little confused by the baby bibs that the dancers have hanging out of their pants, but at least they finally got those pants ON. Whatever the case, now that they are properly dressed, those dancers are able to pivot and flip all over the stage like they just spotted the image of Jesus in a tortilla.

And we’re back to Britney in the inflatable, skyscraper dress. She does some more hand movements and mascara close-ups, which leads to the dancers wearing outfits that make me think of monks who really like to be in an antiseptic environment. This doesn’t stop them from dancing, of course, because once you have the music in you, or a crabs infestation, you can’t help but wave your arms when you wear a white hoodie.

Now we have some mess with Britney appearing on video screens and speaking in a slightly-British accent. I’m not even going to go there. Then Britney squirts paint out of her fingers (not making this up) which triggers a sequence with two Britney wannabees having a fistfight as if Tina Turner cloned herself in “Mad Max: Beyond Thunder Dome”. These two wail away at each other while Giant-Dress Britney keeps squirting paint all over hell. I’m thinking we’ve lost control.

I should probably mention that the odd kung-fu and paint-spillage goes on for far longer that one would expect, accented by shots of additional strange people reenacting scenes from “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”. Except without any actual skilled actors. Or a plot. Or… any sense of societal worth. (Just like the Republican National Convention!)

Did I mention this goes on too long? Seriously, can we stop with the “Kill Bill, Part 3: Revenge of Girls and Martial Arts Gone Wild”?

Well, now at least they’re doing things in slo-mo, which adds a slightly artistic quality to the goings on, but it’s still basically the same thing. Thelma and Louise are now fed up with each other, and insist on trying to kill one another while wearing stilettos and mini-skirts. Britney is able to create a Pride Rainbow pattern just by waving her arms around. And the dancers are unable to remain still because their outfits are chafing in all the wrong places.

Oh, wait. I think Thelma and Louise just died. And Britney tripped and fell down in the middle of her self-imposed color wheel. This is a very sad video. Are they going to kill Bambi’s momma next? I’m not sure if I can take that.

Whoops, we’re not done. All the dead (or at least very tired) people are coming back to life, which inspires Britney and the Underwear Corps to do a final line dance. They’ve all changed to black outfits, probably to match the real color of Britney’s pubic hair, because the truth had to be told at SOME time, and the shimmying continues. To make sure we understand that this is the finale, somebody starts releasing dry ice vapors from the stage floor, and Britney wears a pretty necklace that makes her fondle her thighs.

We close out with confetti falling from the ceiling (“Despite my weirdness, all I really want is to party and make you happy. And for you to buy my perfume. You get a free pair of my panties for every fifty dollars spent!”) and the dancers thrusting their crotches with such vehemence that life-long virgins who watch this video will instantly be with child….



Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.

Backup Dancers From Hell: Colbie Caillat - “Bubbly”

We start off with a nice shot of the ocean, then a pleasant little shack-home nearby, and finally some shots of Colbie and her man snoozing inside the rustic dwelling. (They’re wearing matching torn jeans, so you know they’re in love.) Quick glimpses of various things about the house, like a drippy faucet, surfboards and an immodest statue with discernible genitalia. Oh my.

Whoops, it’s time to get up. The guy (who looks like his name should be Huck or something guttural like that) hops out of bed and runs off to do something, inspiring Colbie to start singing about him while wandering through the house. She’s very happy and aglow about Huck, especially when he sits in that one chair and shoves his crotch at the camera.

Colbie sings for a while, and even summons up the energy to stroke her guitar while sitting in an undefined area of the house that has odd-shaped windows. Oh wait, she’s dragged her guitar out on the front porch, so we can survey the colorful potted flowers while she sits on a homemade bench and wears flip-flops. (Side shots of Colbie and Huck giggling and dashing about on the beach during a rainstorm, proving that they are adventurous and don’t mind sudden wetness at unexpected moments.)

Now Colbie throws her guitar in a jeep and heads out. We don’t know where she’s going, but she’s still singing, so it must be a happy place of some kind. She gets to wherever, and then proceeds to start marching through a field of wheat or something. Then she gets tired and decides to plop down in the middle of the waving grains for a quick rest. While rejuvenating, Colbie has flashbacks of her and Huck apparently wandering around this same field, with Colbie sporting a startling handkerchief on her head and channeling 1973.

Colbie finally gets moving again, and decides to walk along a cliff next to the seashore, which is exactly what you want to do when wearing flip-flops and not paying attention to where you’re going because you’re too busy singing and grinning about what Huck can do to your toes. We have more flashbacks, with Huck showing that he can do other things to Colbie that make her want to write lyrics and eat granola.

Then Colbie is back in the jeep, driving and recalling additional Huck moments, like the time they both smiled at something a cow did while they drove past. They pull up to the beach, and since the sun is lowering in the sky, it’s obviously time to head out on that beach where all their happy friends are gathered around a campfire. But before we can find out what’s for dinner, we see Colbie back in her house and in the back of her jeep, banging on that guitar. (Seriously, were they unable to find a single camera angle where the sun didn’t light up Colbie’s golden tresses like she’s Madonna With Guitar?)

Anyway, we head back to the campfire gang, where Colbie and Huck are kind of hogging the spotlight with their cuteness, but I guess that’s okay since this is Colbie’s song and all. And that pretty much wraps it up. We get a few more images of sun-dappled Colbie in acoustic settings, Colbie wandering around her quaint love shack in search of other reminders of how Huck makes her effervescent, and finally the two of them hop back into the jeep and drive off to make pretty babies named Bean Sprout and Tofu…



Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.

Backup Dancers From Hell: Lady Gaga - “Born This Way”

Note: I will be constantly biting my tongue all through this review. The buzz is already all over the place that the sound and structure of this song is WAY too conveniently familiar to Madonna’s “Express Yourself”, and now Lady Gaga is pushing the envelope as far as she can by taking images from that video, and Madonna icons in general, and twisting them around. It’s a fine line that Gaga is walking in her lace-up stiletto boots. And here we go…

We start off with the cinematic imagery being framed in a pink V, so, since this is Gaga, I’ll have to assume that she’s doing some type of vulva tribute. There’s a unicorn mucking about, and then we have a contortionist woman appear on screen wearing an odd frozen Amadeus mask with her arms or possibly her legs chained up behind her. Oh wait, the camera spins around while princess music plays and we see that the mask is actually on the back of Gaga’s head, and that somebody has applied so much eyeliner to her real face that Gaga looks like she just showed up at a methadone clinic.

We get a voice-over babbling about the “Manifesto of Mother Monster”, and the voice proceeds to tell us a very extended version of somebody getting pregnant among the intergalactic stars. It’s apparently a very important birth, since there are lots of flowers floating around and pretty music. Next we have images of what MIGHT be the actual birth, with presumably vaginal explosions coming at us front and center, but you never really know with a Gaga video.

As trampy midwives assist with the delivery, we also learn that there’s some type of placental battle between good and evil, which requires that we see the image of George Washington wearing blue eye-shadow whilst shooting out of a womb. (I may never eat another marshmallow again.) The delivery finally comes to fruition, I think, and we see Gaga in a row of heads, with Gaga being the only one that looks slightly cute, but “cute” is relative when the other heads are dripping masses of undeveloped goo.

Next we have some mess with red-tinted bodies doing some type of pornographic line dance choreographed by Satan, leading to a stunning image where I do believe that we see some random penises. Not really sure about that part, but I’ve seen a few of those things in my time and I’m fairly certain we have wands waving.

Cut to Lady Gaga astraddle some device that requires her to spread her legs really wide. Oh, and also give birth to something demonic with an un-pretty face. (It was probably not a good day for her, just sayin.) The now-getting-irritating voice-over woman keeps chattering away about the good and evil thing, but we really aren’t paying attention because the current Gaga onscreen is breaking water in a very dramatic way while a nose-ringed demon shows us his teeth.

Post-birth, Gaga pulls out a machine gun and starts shooting at anything that moves. I’m guessing she didn’t really enjoy her time in the stirrups. Then we cut to Gaga waving her machine gun about while letting high-velocity fans whip her hair all over the place. Based on the billowing hairstyle and non-ample cleavage, I’m guessing Gaga is really pissed about Shelly Hack being hired for “Charlie’s Angels” and not her.

Shelly Gaga disappears from the screen, and we close in on what at first appears to be odd frogs in a herringbone pattern. As the camera nears, we learn that the frogs are actually people bent over in a squatting position, possibly praying to Gaga and her amazing ability to color-coordinate birthing scenes. Next thing you know, Gaga shows up, wearing basically nothing except tattoos, and she tromps about among the frog people while the voice-over woman deals with static electricity and the start of the actual music, nearly three minutes into this “Battlestar Gagatica” episode.

Gaga, somehow looking like Gwyneth Paltrow and Dusty Springfield had a love child, parades around in her underwear so we can see how thin you can be when people must obey all your commands. Gaga temporarily assumes the frog position with her acolytes, which causes them to come to life so they can join her in a dancing tribute to individuality and the ability to wear your panties in public.

While Gaga and the Frog People cavort, we get images of another Gaga who likes intricate hairstyles and flowing gowns. (And possibly the consumption of grapes. I’m really not sure WHAT she’s shoving into her mouth.) The Frog People like to stroke their crotches whilst gyrating to the beat, with such an energetic frenzy that we should probably look into this activity as an alternative to fossil fuel.

Gaga and her gold-chain-adorned panties keep dancing with the Frog People for quite some time, which allows us to study the latest dance moves, most of which involve waving your arms so that people can see your belly button. And your freshly-trimmed pubic hair. At least these people are neat and tidy.

Throughout all this… exuberance… we keep getting shots of Gaga as the Interplanetary Queen Who Wears A Stupid Veil. The Gaga Queen appears to have some personal animosity toward… well, everyone… so I’m not sure that she’ll win the Student Council election. Meanwhile, the Frog People continue to strut around with a complete lack of concern about what the Non-Frog People might think.

Cut to Gaga in a tuxedo, with her face done up like a skeleton and an odd patch of pinkish hair sprouting out of the side of her head. It seems that this Gaga has an equally-skeletal dance partner who is not all that interested in dancing with her. He prefers to just stand there and look studly despite his nose-ring and creepy pantyhose skull cap. While Skeletal Gaga tries to get a rise out of her undead, uninterested companion, we get shots of another Gaga bathing in a writhing sea of undulating bodies where everybody is invested in having sex with any protuberance whatsoever. (Are we suddenly at the Clinton mansion in Arkansas? Not sure.)

Skeletal Gaga grabs at her crotch while her bored friend grabs at nothing, then we cut to Frog People Gaga still stirring up the troops, and Orgy Gaga embracing one of her sex-mates with a beatific expression as if she’s only having random sex to help lost souls find their way to Jesus. Uh huh.

Then we go back to Lady Gaga’s head wearing that Martha Washington wig while people decompose around her, and we learn that this Gaga does have an actual body, only with zippers in places that really shouldn’t have zippers. Martha Gaga tries to do some dance moves, interspersed with Lisa Kudrow, I mean Frog-People Gaga finally losing all inhibitions (like THAT was a stretch) and dancing like there’s nothing in the known universes that can satisfy her crotchly needs.

And more of Martha/Zipper Gaga touching herself unjustly, and I decide that I don’t ever want to see another woman wear a powdered wig, especially when we transition to even more vulvic images of something else giving birth in a startlingly creamy manner. Quick flash of Frog Gaga’s booty, then more with the snatch-destroying violent births. Really, Gaga? Do you not understand that a big chunk of your fan base is not interested in what might come out of your cooter?

And now things go a little crazy. (As if they hadn’t already, just making a relative statement.) We head back to Frog Gaga and her barely-there undergarments, where people are rushing about in preparation for another random opportunity for Gaga to prove that she can find couture that does not adequately cover her ass. This Gaga prances around and makes love to the floor to show her personal dedication to the rights of skinny people to rule the world via music, song and liberation of clothing.

So we head to another line dance, where Gaga and the Frog People are sashaying about and waving their arms, but I’m still not seeing any plus-sized supermodels that have been allowed onto the set. I’m certainly not one to limit an artist’s vision, but really G-Girl, could you possibly put someone in your videos that has actually eaten pizza in their lives?

Gaga responds by making a self-masturbation gesture with her legs spread wide.

Okay, then. Maybe not.

We’re back at that massive orgy, where pretty people are doing things near Gaga’s silken thighs while at the same time appearing to be clawing their way out of the earth, perhaps in search of blood-infused people who haven’t seen “True Blood” and don’t understand that just because somebody talks to you in an alley, you shouldn’t proffer your neck as a potential appetizer. Unless, of course, you’re really tired of that daylight thing.

The Frog People are still line-dancing, although at this point it’s really a matter of jazz hands and bared nipples. Next up is a montage of Frog Gaga being really exuberant with her arms despite the fact that her gold panty necklace is banging against her thighs and surely making dancing a bit difficult. Frog Gaga compensates by thrusting her arms about in a manner similar to Joan Jett from back in the day when she still loved rock and roll and apparently hadn’t yet dined at the Lesbos Café.

Back to Skeletal Gaga and her uninterested mate. She whips her hair around enough that Bored Supermodel allows Gaga to nuzzle him a bit so she‘ll quit trying to take flight. Then we have a quick shot of Skeletal Gaga rolling her eyes back in her head, and the image is so severe that I’m not sure I can ever listen to “Bad Romance” again.

Now we start jumping around all over the place, with flashes of Frog Gaga, Skeletal Gaga, Brazilian-Wax Gaga, and I-Am-Too-Scared-To-Party-With-HER Gaga. Oh, and don’t forget Martha Gaga and Massive-Orgy-With-Wet-Paint Gaga. All the colors of the gagabow.

We wind things down with Skeletal Gaga in an intimate shot, looking like two butch guys battling for supremacy (got a little hot with THAT mess), and a new Gaga or… who knows who she is… prancing around with day-glo gloves in an alley. Quick shot of a crying Gaga with a severe haircut, and then we return to the pink triangle, now inverted. Something’s on fire, who knows what, then we have a final image of Skeletal Gaga blowing a bubble with her gum.

Holy cow.



Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.

Backup Dancers From Hell: Ashton Shepherd - “Look It Up”

We start off with Ashton hammering a sign into the ground reading “Yard Sale, Everything Must Go!”. Based on the violence she is channeling into that hammer, she done fed up with somethin’. Folks behind her at the sale are dashing about in that nosey way where they might pretend to be interested in your Lobo 8-Track, but they really want to get the dirt on what up with the sudden clearance sale.

Cue some guy arriving in his pickup, a bit confused about the goings on. (A subtitle informs us “All HIS stuff must go!” Ah. Got it.) While customers paw things like deer heads and fishing lures, the guy in the truck honks his horn. Of course, that puny little noise doesn’t stop anybody from doing whatever, so he hops out to do some damage control. He looks to be about 5-foot-5. Good luck with that.

He runs up to Ashton as she is happily throwing more of his crap in another box, and when he tries to get all huffy, she hurls his phone at him, which is open to some slut texting that she misses and loves him. Ashton then launches into the vocals of her revenge tune, using a now-desecrated wedding album as a handy prop. Let’s just say that Truck Boy does not benefit from the modifications to the album.

Then Ashton drags Truck over to some geeky guy with Internet access, and he’s found images of Slut Girl driving around in Truck’s truck, her hooters barely able to stay inside the truck. (It’s probably the gun rack taking up all the room. The truck’s rack, not hers.) Then we get a gander at a dictionary where Truck’s picture accompanies the definition of “liar”. (Wow, do you think Ashton is just a little bit miffed.)

Ashton now takes a break from the confronting to go sit on a keg in the garage, sporting a pretty dress and singing some more of the song. (Seriously? A keg in the garage? There wasn’t a nice tree she could lean against while butterflies whiz past?) Ashton likes to wave her hands around quite a bit, probably to make it extra special clear that her former man is a pig.

Cut to Pig Man dashing around the yard and trying to snatch back his belongings. Well, that doesn’t sit well with Ashton, so she puts her flannel shirt back on and a for-sale sign on Pig’s truck. (Oh, and look at that, she finds a bottle of whisky on the front seat, which she promptly hurls at Pig. He glances at the bottle and discovers that he is now on the label for the hooch. I guess word travels fast. Somebody had a yard sale and the whole liquor industry has to re-brand.)

More of Ashton straddling that keg and waving her hands. (She has a really fun way of saying “pig”, in case you like to track such things.) The keg-ride is interspersed with Flannel Ashton selling off more of Truck’s junk, and quite happy to do so. Truck’s truck, boat, and ego go bye-bye in just a few seconds. Then Ashton relaxes in a chair while shoppers and/or family members wave signs along the lines of “Go, Goodbye, Get Lost, Get Out, Get Gone” in a nice synchronized movement that you might see at a junior-high pep rally, assuming that you weren’t under the bleachers sucking face with bad boys while seated asses were lined up over your heavy-breathing head, missing the whole show and possibly your next period.

Back to the garage, where Glamour Ashton is destroying more of Truck’s trophies using one of his golf clubs. Once she’s done with the decapitations, she breaks the golf club over her knee and then hurls it off toward a shelf of motor oil or something. But she’s not bitter.

Back at the yard sale, Truck grabs a Bible in a last-ditch effort, maybe hoping that Jesus can cancel all the credit card transactions. Ashton is not impressed. Jesus might forgive or hold up credit lines, but she sure don’t. Back on the keg, Glamour Ashton is feeling quite liberated. To top off her new-found freedom, she decides to burn Truck’s letter jacket in a handy barbecue grill that just happens to be sitting beside her. She has quite a good time with the impromptu cookout, even muttering the word “asshole” with a grin a mile wide.

We finish up with Truck still trying to get his things back out at the yard sale, but these people done paid and they ain’t playin, no, sir. Even his dog, wearing a “Sold!” sign, is being dragged away by an older woman that looks like she knows how to make a mean batch of biscuits and gravy. Truck finally collapses to the ground, throwing down his ball cap in frustration.

Moral of the story? Don’t mess with Ashton. She will NOT put up with your crap. And she’ll get a hit single out of it, making you look like even more of a truck pig. Word.


Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.