This week was a big week for movies. Especially if you are a tween, a gay man or an quarter-aged lady like myself. First up was Magic Mike. Listen, don’t worry about the story-line, the people who made this film didn’t even seem very concerned with it. All you need to know is that Ginunine’s ‘Pony’ will never be the same. It is now like Pavlov’s bell for me. If I hear it playing, I instinctually begin to remove items of clothing. It’s pretty dangerous.
I am often affected by the movies I see. After watching Kill Bill, I told people I was a ninja named Blue Krait. After watching Moonrise Kingdom, I wanted to reignite my Girl Scout past. Well, after watching Magic Mike, I was fiending for a spray-tan, some baby oil and a leopard swimsuit. This movie will make you want to bump and grind. I feel confidant in saying that the group of post-menopausal women sitting in front of me feel the same way. I’m basing this judgement on the fact that they audibly squealed like 4th-grade me at a Phil Collins concert when Channing’s bare-naked booty popped up in the first minute of the movie. I feel like the word booty was invented for his booty. There has never been a bootier booty than the booty on that body. Booty. Consider yourself warned.
This week I was also affected by watching Katy Perry: Part of Me in many different ways. For one, It made me want to buy a cat and wear flesh-toned tights. You guys, I already know that celebs are real people because I read that section in gossip mags called “Celebs Are Just Like Us.” I like seeing a famous person take out the trash just as much as the next voyeur. But that exclusive knowledge doesn’t mean I won’t jump at the chance to get a little behind the scenes action whenever these 3-D publicity films come out. I might even go as far as to say that I like whatever is going on behind the scenes more than I like the stuff happening in front. I’ve seen them all and I think that makes me an expert. And in my expert opinion, I’ve got to say that Katy’s is one of my favorite.
You see her transform from a perky candy-clad popstar at the beginning of her tour to a shell of herself by the end. I actually shed a tear or two watching her sob over the impending destruction of her marriage to Russell Brand. It is easy to pick apart celebrity marriages, but it’s much harder to hate up close.
But most of all, I learned that Katy and I have similar spending habits. At this point in my life, I’m poor for sure. However, I have some plans in the works to make my bank account match my taste level. And if those plans ever actually come to fruition, Katy Perry gave me an idea or two of how to spend that moolah.
1. Work out With An Eyemask On– Katy has a trainer that she’s probably never seen because every time she is stretching or doing sit-ups or working out, she has her face covered. I wanna do that too, but you gotta be baller status to not look people in the face.
2. Fly Private– Every time I fly, I dream of being upgraded to first class. Katy teaches me that I’m not dreaming big enough. First class is for pansies. I want a private jet.
3. Family Employees– You know you’re rich when you can make-up jobs for your whole family just as an excuse to pay them. Katy’s sister’s job is to give out wristbands at her concerts and keep Katy grounded. C’mon.
4. Fast Food– Despite being a bajillionaire, Katy still nom noms on regular old Taco Bell. Sometimes I get sad about my future rich self not being able to eat there, but Katy taught me that I never have to give up my double decker tacos.
5. Whipped Cream Gun– When an arena full of people come to watch you dance around with starlight mint boobs, you have permission to shoot them in the face with whipped cream. When I’m rich, I’m doing that too, except with Cheeze Whiz.
6. Human Alarm Clock– I miss the days when my mom would come wake me for school singing a sweet little tune. Katy’s assistant has the torturous job of waking her, in person, everyday. Wouldn’t it be lovely to never hear the awful sound of an alarm clock again? So if you want to hit snooze, do you throw a pillow at the assistant?
And after the movie was over and me and all of the 11-year-old girls emerged from the theater humming along with the closing credits, one of the theater employees started handing out Katy Perry posters to all the little girls. When I walked passed her, she didn’t offer me one. Probably because I’m out of the age range and I cut my own crusts off of my own sandwiches. But I stopped and asked for one anyways. Because that’s what Katy would do.
I wanna know: What will you do when you’re rich?