Life is nothing but a series of consecutive anticipatory moments. When you’re a child you want to see what it’s like to stay up past 8 p.m., but only because you’re not allowed to. Nighttime seems like a magical hour, where sprites come alive and dance round the kitchen while your parents laugh and frolic. Oh, how they frolic. Of course, later on, you realize it’s the same shit as other times of the day, and there’s no magic at all. Rip off. (Although if you lived in my house mommy and daddy would have had a few glasses of big boy juice by then, so the dancing around the kitchen thing kind of holds true.)
When you’re a young teenager, you want to get your license because driving seems magical and empowering, too. I can go wherever I want now, you think. You drive to the mall instead. You don’t ever really end up going anywhere.
Next, you want to be able to drink legally, because look at all the fun everyone is having on commercials drinking beer and spiking volleyballs at bikini babes and being friends with talking animals! Drinking, it turns out, makes you tired and want to go to bed before 8 p.m. after working all day. Life is cyclical in that way.
Skip ahead a bit and, once you get to be in your thirties and your life consists of staring at the internet all day, you dream about another very specific goal: being able to see Katy Perry’s naked ass. Please, God, you bargain late at night, tossing and turning under the covers, just let me catch a glimpse of the bum responsible for supporting the frame on which rests the lungs and vocal chords responsible for such easy-listening summertime hits as “California Gurls” and I’ll be a better man. I’ll stop cheating on my taxes, and I’ll let people cross in the cross walk, and I won’t leave the milk out on the counter.
Then, one day, much like everything else you’ve hoped for, that dream is realized, and you understand that everything you longed for this whole time wasn’t much of anything at all, now was it?
The Daily Mail caught the singer in the act of losing her bikini bottoms at a water park, saying she showed off her “surprisingly bountiful alabaster bottom” a phrase so awful it almost makes me want to go celibate.
So here we are, dreams fulfilled. Now what?
It reminds me of something that astute observer of bums Don Draper once said on Mad Men:
“When a man walks into a room, he brings his whole life with him. He has a million reasons for being anywhere, just ask him. If you listen, he’ll tell you how he got there. How he forgot where he was going, and that he woke up. If you listen, he’ll tell you about the time he thought he was an angel or dreamt of being perfect. And then he’ll smile with wisdom, content that he realized the world isn’t perfect. We’re flawed, because we want so much more. We’re ruined, because we get these things, and wish for what we had.”
With that in mind, my next wish is for Katy Perry to come over to my house and bring me an iced coffee. I bet it’s going to be the best thing ever.
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