Ke$ha$nake

Ke$ha has taken over my life. I don't mean in the "I-can't-turn-on-the-radio-without-hearing-her-dammit-songs," way, but instead in the "Omigod-you-did-NOT-just-buy-her-entire-album-on-Itunes-and-spend-your-work-day-googling-candid-images-of-her" way.

For the sake of anonymity (though they certainly don't deserve it) we'll call the most egregious offenders Bob and Michelle.

It's really all Michelle's fault. She took Ke$ha from background music on the radio to conversation point at every gathering. (Throw a devout Gaga gay and a cocktail into the mix and the conversation quickly takes the form of a heated debate.) The problem was only exacerbated by a surprise interest from resident music snob, Bob.

No longer sated with the soothing, intricate stylings of Brahams and Bach, Bob descended rapidly into the jagged, dirty, bourbon-soaked music hole that is Ke$ha. The aftermath of this plummet has been astounding. Like a scorned lover, he obsesses over her. He wonders aloud what she is doing, comments on her life choices, reads uncomfortably far into her lacquered lyrics. He visits keshaparty.com to check in, wikipedia to learn more about who she is, her twitter to see if she's mentioned him. He wishes there were a dollar sign tile in Scrabble so he could accurately spell her name, and he wishes he had been there to hold back her hair when she puked in Paris Hilton's closet.

On a recent sailing trip the two offenders assaulted the ears of their companions with a virtually non-stop rotation of Ke$ha. An entire evening was lost to discussing the artist, and the term "Ke$ha $nake" was introduced as a result of watching Michelle's hangover slither out of her bunk. This should inform the reader as to why I posted a picture of Adam, Eve, and their pal Ke$ha $nake above.

Given her vocal range and dependency on 808drums, I don't foresee a long-term career for this pop artist, though I risk getting punched in the neck by her followers (aka two of the people dearest to my heart) for saying so. Maybe her devotees will keep the spotlight fixated on their un-showered goddess, but who knows how long people who brush their teeth with Jack can stand that still.

Like so many before her, only time will tell if Mi$$ Ke$ha $nake will dust off the face glitter, drop the dollar signs, return to night school and get a job in Tulsa as a paralegal.