Hey, boys and girls, it’s Kesha and her gang of super-trampy friends once again running around and doing pointless things to the same beat that’s in every one of Kesha’s songs! Yay!
This time, Kesha and Company have invaded an abandoned motel somewhere in the desert, probably California, because one would assume that Kesha has never crossed the state line or she would know better than to dress like that. We see lots of shots of the derelict building, just so we can fully understand that it’s, you know, abandoned. This is apparently a key factor, because it’s just not as fun invading a motel where people can actually live.
It seems Kesha has just arrived on her motorcycle (or maybe she slept on it) because we see her hopping off the thing while several of her zombie girlfriends are marching up behind her. Kesha starts singing (using the term loosely), and then raises her arms, which causes several skanky guys to run up and join the caravan of trashy people going nowhere. Kesha also does something with her hands and eyes which I suppose is meant to signify that she’s a wild huntress on the prowl, but it really just looks like she’s had too much caffeine and can’t stand still.
The gang finds an abandoned car in the parking lot, and several of the guys decide this would be the perfect thing to climb on and then jump up and down. Because rusted metal is so soft and comfy. They guys get bored really quickly because, let’s face it, a broken-down car can only take you so far. (See, in one throw-away line I made a rhyme that’s more pithy than anything in this song, so it’s really not that hard, Kesha.)
Anyway, the chorus kicks in, which causes everybody to take off running like the STD test results just came in at the free clinic. Everybody starts scrambling and dancing all over the place, running up and down stairs and such. (One poor girl slams into a giant pillar that she somehow didn’t see, and then she looks over her shoulder like somebody pushed her. They didn’t. She’s drunk.) For variety, we also have folks pounding on guest room doors and leaping through the air over people that are passed out on the ground.
Kesha eventually finds a fur coat in the rusty car, because boys are stupid and they don’t recognize couture. You really need to keep warm in the desert, so Kesha slips this thing on and parades around like she’s somebody important. Then everybody decides that they want to go swimming, so they scramble over the barriers that say “Stay Out” because they can’t read. (Who goes to school anymore? That’s so 90’s.)
One brief shot of Kesha way out in the desert with nothing around here. The loneliness causes her to crawl on the ground and act like a jungle cat. This scene doesn’t fit, so it probably belongs in another video and somebody screwed up.
Back at the abandoned motel, we have the idiots bouncing around in the empty pool. They probably haven’t figured out that there’s not any water, but a few of them have discovered that if you touch this one guy’s back, puffs of yellow dust billow out. (How long has it been since he’s bathed? Seriously.)
Shot of someone throwing a trashcan across the parking lot, because that’s what Kesha is singing in the song right at that time. So we’re going for realism? Is this a documentary? Then a skanky boy and a slutty girl find out that if they run really fast and slam into each other, they turn into a cloud of colorful particles. Of course, it might be hard for them to cash the paycheck from this gig, since they don’t exist anymore, but I suppose it’s not important.
As anyone would do in the same situation, everybody starts picking up the pretty dust from their former friends and slinging it about as they dance and twirl. There’s a slo-mo shot of Kesha standing on the edge of the pool and opening her fur coat so we can see her jewelry better. Other than that, there’s no reason for this stunt.
Oh look, some nice gentleman tried to help one of the girls out of the pool, but his hand turned to blue dust and she fell on her ass. How inconvenient. Then Kesha, because she’s never done drugs in her life, pulls a zipper on her chest so yellow sparkly stuff can spill out of her. She’s trying to smile seductively. Or maybe, with all the crap flying around in the air, she’s signaling that somebody better bring her asthma inhaler pronto.
Despite all the odd dismemberments and death occurring around them, most of the people keep dancing and playing with the bits of their friends. It doesn’t seem to bother anyone that they are basically cavorting around in a psychedelic crematorium. Nothing says “BFF” like wearing a coating of Betty Lou in your hair.
And that’s about it. More maniacal writhing on the bottom of the pool, more body parts disintegrating like a really cheap piñata, and clouds of billowing ex-people wafting about and making everything colorful but gritty. They are going to have a heck of a time getting that pool filter clean.
Finally, Kesha pulls her chest zipper all the way down and her arm disappears.
I think that says it all.
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