I’m not sure how long Katy Cocktease has been on concert hiatus. It seems like it’s been at least a couple boyfriends or a marriage ago really. It’s been a while. But, you can’t keep a good girl down, so Katy got decked out in her silly showy costumes and got up and down and down and up on stage in Belfast in her new concert tour.
It’s kind of like her old concert tour in so much as Katy prances about showing off her cleave and legs and various other jiggly parts, but different in so much as it’s brand new different same sounding pop songs. Okay, so it’s mostly the same as last time, but with Katy Cocktease, we’re still bound to ogle. Enjoy.
Katy Cocktease might give us a pain in the blue regions, but there’s really no denying her power stems from looking sextastic and hot in the first place. Katy put her legs and other body goodness on display Down Under over the weekend for a celebration of something to do with art and museums and a bunch of other things I care less about than merely ogling Katy.
For all of Katy’s faults and annoying personal relationship habits, I’d still shank any one of you in the prison showers for a chance to spend ten minutes along in isolation with Katy. I’d concede two minutes for her to chatter a bit and make some silly remarks that I would pretend to laugh at, then remind her we had eight minutes left and ask her if she could breathe through her nose. I’m considerate like that. Katy, let’s roleplay this, I’m so ready. Enjoy.
I’m not exactly sure who Katy Cocktease is supposed to be. I’m going with Cleopatra or somebody Egyptian. I suppose it ties in with one of her little pop ditties or something or maybe I’m missing out on a new wave of scarab inspired fashion. Nevertheless, I was mostly checking out her legs. Yes, Katy can cocktease even with her special gams, not quite as exceptional perhaps as her bodacious bosom but nevertheless, the worked out stems of a woman who prances the stage for a living.
Someday, when Katy reveals herself in her entirety, as I have foreseen in visions, maybe you’d call them masturbation fantasies, we shall see the entire package and her nickname will change. Until that time, it’s all about trying to peek up her skirt at awards show acts. Hey, it’s an honest living. Enjoy.
First off, if I didn’t win an Elle style award yet again this year, I’m going to be pissed. I think it really is meant mostly for famous women who get all decked out for the big event in London, but I like to think my own cutting edge sense of style transcends the minor qualification elements. Not many men can pull of Crocs as dress shoes. Just saying, Elle, how about a little polite nod and a trophy for my faux L.A. fireplace mantle?
While I await my own accolades, hotties such as Katy Cocktease and Emma Watson arrived at the event to receive tons of fawning and devotion for their own sense of fashion and style. I guess because I mostly imagine both of them being nekkid almost all of the time I never really put them together with fashion award worthy grooming, but I suppose that makes sense too. Let’s all go back to my hotel room at The Savoy and celebrate with champagne and silk restraints. Enjoy.
We may live to be two hundred and never see Katy Cocktease sharing a clean view of her sweet bodacious peaches, but we can today say we’ve seen her panties-lines beneath her sweat pants. Hey, take what you can get during a time of visual drought. And I’ll take Katy’s seat meat and that blessed crack that signals the great divide of my fantastical desires. Sweat pants are the modest girls stretch pants, but still a wonder at times.
Kiss me, Katy, I’m staring at your butt.
Whoa, Katy Cocktease, you have done it again. Damn you, woman. Make this suffering end.
Katy wore a rather low cut gown to the Sony post-Grammys party, in contrast to her more modest and maternal frock for the red carpet of the award show itself. In between she wore something black and lit herself on fire. But her Sony party wardrobe, the Perry chest exhibitor, that was the real winner of the evening. If only they gave out Grammys for chestal goodies, the show might suddenly become very watchable.
Katy Cocktease, you do slay us. But enough is enough. We have waited long, we have waited patiently, but before it’s too late. Please, I beseech you, which is even stronger than begging I believe, show us your sweet yams so that we may rest in peace. Enjoy.
You know I’m not a big fan of awards shows. I’m not a big fan of tears and drama and shtick just so artists who already do quite alright for themselves can spend an evening handing each other trophies. Trophies are for Little League kids. Adults don’t really need trophies. Maybe if you invent a cure for cancer or something you get something for your mantle. But not singing a catchy ditty.
Nevertheless, the awards shows like the Grammys do bring out the sextastic celebrities, including the performers like Beyonce, Katy Perry, and Pink, all of whom felt the artistic obligation to flash their booties and crotches for the cameras in advancement and enhancement of their audio arts. It was quite a show in that regard. Somehow I’ve omitted Madonna and her top hat and cane. Oops. Enjoy.