July 2012

The Show Must Go On

July 21, 2012

Feel free to mock me, mercilessly, after you read this.

I may or may not have gone to see Katy Perry’s movie by myself.

And I may or may not have cried a couple times. In the back row. By myself.

I cried because almost all of Katy Perry’s wigs – BANG.

Source: WENN.com

I cried because I was taking Katy Perry’s “film” way too seriously. Not shocking. I’m just starting to feel a little concerned I’ll never outgrow this phase (meaning adolescence).

I cried because I let myself down. I should have been a pop star. I would have been a REALLY good pop star. But I’m like 97 now (as far as Hollywood is concerned). There’s no way a record label is going to give me a reptile and a rhinestone catsuit (not that I couldn’t rock them, I totally could).

I cried when this video rolled right before the credits…

I cried when Katy Perry’s marriage fell apart.

For the first time since the movie started, Katy Perry was stripped of her infectious smile.

Even the virtual Candyland she created wasn’t enough to sugarcoat the situation. The superstar broke down behind the scenes. And, regardless of whether or not YOU love Russell Brand, she did. It was painful (at least for me) to watch their relationship dissolve (even in a heavily promoted documentary about her California Dreams Tour).

Katy and I both cried – right before she was expected to perform – for Brazil.

I cried partly because I felt like a jaded old broad. While the ten-year-olds in the theater were wishing they had seen more of Kitty Purry (Katy Perry’s cat), I was thinking…even private planes and an endless supply of glitter and ice cream cone costumes…couldn’t save a relationship. I was thinking fairy tales are fraudulent. I was thinking Cinderella is a @#$%ing farce. Relationships take more than glass slippers, fairy godmothers, love AND lust. If you want them to survive, they demand and deserve hard work. And sometimes, they STILL don’t pull through. Needless to say, I wished (and sort of still wish) I were one of those bright-eyed little girls who only cared about the goddamn cat.

I cried the hardest when Katy Perry didn’t let irreconcilable differences kick her sparkly a$$. She made the striped candy on her bodice spin, she grabbed her bedazzled microphone, she dried her eyes and she slapped a pretty believable smile on her gorgeous face. Then, she put on a show for the largest country in South America.

At that moment, I felt so ashamed of all the times I opted not to perform (and I’m performing for a much smaller audience, if not only for myself). Watching Katy Perry literally rise to the occasion made me regret all the instances I consciously chose weakness over strength. Because I know I always have a choice. And I’ve always known I was strong. But there have been so many times, recently, I have simply chosen not to be. And there’s really no (good) excuse.

Photo from Doug Beghtel/The Oregonian

I pulled it together before I left the theater (it wasn’t easy for ridiculous me). And since that day, I have been reminded – so many times – just how much more fun life is – when your whip cream guns are fully loaded. I NEVER want to set mine down again.

The last 48 hours in Phoenix, Arizona have been no exception. Thank you Andy, Kelly, Greg, Jill, Joey, Charissa, Amy (especially you duck butter), Rebecca, Seth, Brianna and the love of my life – Johnny B – for all the laughs. Now suit up. It’s REALLY hot outside. And I’m ready to fire away. I’m more than a little embarrassed to say, it has been far too long since I’ve laughed this hard. The only thing I’m not laughing about is the ninth degree sunburn on the tip of my nose. You were all right about the sunblock. I should wear a hat today. Or maybe I’ll just hang with the Beach Patrol…




Dear Almie,

It has taken me a few days – but I’ve finally and completely – forgiven you for calling bangs stupid.

I’ve come to peace with your moment of insanity mostly because you quickly admitted you must be insane to say such a thing, you swore you were only talking about your own bangs and you STILL have said “serious” bangs.

THEN, you told me Zooey Deschanel and I have “A+ fancy bangs.” You knew what you were doing when you said that. You knew my blunt-bang-loving-heart would melt. I appreciate manipulation as much as I appreciate the ability to manipulate. Smooth move Miss Rose. Smooth move.

In any event, I have decided, after seeing your most recent video/post that one of the only things I want for my birthday (which is not until September – so we have plenty of time to plan) is to have (many) birthday drinks with you. And you can record the whole thing, in case I’m insane (like yourself).

There isn’t really much more to say – other than – don’t let me down. I’m an only child. I’m used to getting what I want. And I’m totally serious about this Blunt-Banged-Disney-Themed-Apocalypstick-Plus-Daily-Birthday-Dream. It would be epic. I’m sure of it.

Zou Bisou Bisou,


P.S. Try to ignore the socks with the sandals and just soak up the same stupid bangs. We were meant to dress up Disney and drown my aging sorrows. Don’t you think? You be Snow White. I’ll be Belle. We’ll pick up a few dwarves and a beast along the way. Obviously.