Where is Ke$ha Now?
- Written by Cassandra Welch
- April 12, 2012
She hasn’t been in the media lately, and hasn’t shown any sign of being in the general public. Where is Ke$ha? At first I tried stalking her, but I just couldn’t keep up with her as she bounced from club to club. All I would find to show I was on the right track was her trail of glitter. I finally decided to call her agent, who set me up with a day I could follow her daily routine. And what a routine it was.
9:00a.m.: I told her from the very start that I was going to take a back seat on her daily life just to see how she prepares for the day and what obstacles she may face. I made myself comfortable on her fuzzy white couch, which had stains I couldn’t distinguish on it; I waited for Ke$ha to wake up. And waited. I decided to make myself some breakfast, but all there was in the fridge was a bottle of Jack and some rotten who-knows-what.
Noon: I heard her finally wake up to the sound of her own drunken snore and made my way to her room. I always wondered if she woke up with her untamed mane or if she actually put work into making it look like that. She told me it looked perfect. She then proceeded to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of Jack. But—oh gosh, is the actually going to brush her teeth with that? Yep, that’s disgusting. Ke$ha told me that’s what inspired one of her songs. I’m guessing her daily routines really do inspire most of her songs. Hey, I guess I’m not one to talk. Girl’s got some awards for that shit.
After switching between brushing her teeth with alcohol and taking shots of it, she looks into her wardrobe. She throws on a wrinkled band tee, leopard tights, and some jewelry. Last week, Entertainment Weekly asked her, “What spices up all of your outfits?” She didn’t hesitate and answered, “Honestly? Glitter, it fixes everything. If I smear glitter on my face, you don’t have a choice—you will be attracted to me.” And boy was she…so wrong. No wonder she landed a permanent spot on Hollywood’s Worst Dressed List.
3:00p.m.: After watching her lip synching debacle on SNL—I’m pretty sure she’s the worst performer they’ve had in 35 years, or at least since Ashlee Simpson—I wanted to know how she got into singing. “Well, you gotta know who to sleep with. Kick em’ to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger.” I didn’t want to tell her that Mick Jagger was almost on his deathbed, because I’m not sure how long she’s been missing for. I also thought it might be rude to point out she never really answered my question. So I stayed silent. Hollywood really is all about the “connections.”
6:00p.m.: “I’m curious to know, Ke$ha, do you have any love interests?” I asked over our dinner of ramen with vodka cream sauce. She laughed and took a few swigs of Captain, “Your love is my drug… I like your beard.” I chalked it up to all of the liquor she’d had. But just in case, Ke$ha, if you were serious... Don’t call me. Please don’t.
9:00p.m.: The day is coming to an end, and shit, I’ve never been more excited to leave someone’s house. At least the day was over for me; she was busy calling up all her friends so they could put “pedicure on our toes, toes” and “try on all our clothes, clothes” for the long night of partying ahead. In summary, all she did was drink, and drink. And yell on the phone at her stylist, saying there aren’t enough animal print clothes in her wardrobe. Oh, and tell me absolutely nothing that I couldn’t pull out of one of her songs. No wonder she hasn’t left her house. Well, if she doesn’t have a face everybody in the whole world can love, at least she can sleep (or black out) at night knowing her mom semi-loves her. Maybe.