I want to be friends with Katy Perry. At least I think I want to be friends with Katy Perry. I have always (mostly secretly) enjoyed some of the pop star's hits, but I could never allow myself to completely embrace her because, while she seems fun, the stage persona she presents is also completely ridiculous. She's a sexed-up Candy Land figurine; she plays dumb about the arguably racist and homophobic things she says and sings while also trying to pander to tweens with her heartfelt "be yourself" anthems. You can't have it both ways, Katy!
But despite the flaws, I'll admit that I had a great time watching her perform during her Prismatic Tour earlier this summer. She changed costumes nearly a dozen times. She took selfies with the audience, had a pizza delivered to some fans in the front row, and rode a giant mechanical horse. She sat in an inflatable convertible while an inflatable poo emoji larger than my apartment danced over her head, and she flew through the air while the world's largest balloon drop softly fell all around her. There were fireworks (of course) and an acoustic guitar covered in a bajillion crystals—the entire two-hour performance was shiny and beautiful and about as real as Joan Rivers's face. At one point, she sang her double-entendre-filled song "Birthday" to a preteen as the two sat atop a giant cake. "That's not appropriate," I thought as Katy sang about wanting to "get you in your birthday suit."
But it made me wonder: What would it be like having Katy Perry as a BFF? Would I get to meet Rihanna? Would she buy me extravagant presents? Would she comfort me during life's shitter moments? What Would Katy Perry Do? I'm sure it would be messy, hilarious, and annoying, but at least it would be entertaining.
Here's what it might be like if Katy Perry were your best friend.
Katy Perry plays tonight at the Tacoma Dome.
