Carly Rae Jepsen - “Call Me Maybe”

  We start out with Carly Rae standing at the back window of her house, gazing in wanton lust at the sexy lawnboy who is tending to her greenery. Naturally, he’s all super-sweaty with perfect hair, which causes Carly to fan herself with one of the apparently thousands of trashy romance novels that she’s been sitting around reading while she waits for this song to hit the top of the charts and make her world-famous.

  Carly decides that it’s very important that she start singing, so she does, which prompts Hot Boy to stop pushing around the lawnmower and proceed to slowly take off his shirt so we can study his sculpted chest and an interesting tattoo that may or may not be the Declaration of Independence. All this exposed flesh makes Carly fan herself even harder, until Hot Boy glances her way and she drops to the floor like she’s been shot. (Does she live in South Central L.A.?)

  Cut to somebody’s open garage, where Carly and her band-friends are making music while Carly sings to a car in the driveway that clearly is not interested in her warbling and Stevie Nicks wardrobe. As Carly continues with her mini-concert, we get more shots of Hot Boy still flexing and sweating and sucking down a bottle of water like it’s the best sex he’s ever had since reaching puberty about three days ago.

  While we study Carly’s extra-long bangs and wonder how she can see where the cameras might be, Hot Boy manages to finish up with the lawn and then moseys over to stare under the hood of his sports car. He’s put his shirt back on, which is really disappointing, but I‘m sure he’ll be taking it off again shortly. After all, we didn’t have time to finish reading all of his tattoo the first time around, what with his nipples and whatnot breaking our concentration.

  Next up is two of Carly’s little band-friends handing her a bucket of soapy water and then shoving her toward her own car. It’s not immediately clear why Carly needs to scrub her ride right at the moment, then we realize that Hot Boy is in the next driveway over, fiddling with his motor and stretching a lot. Carly smirks saucily at this opportunity to get his attention, and she proceeds to get her car and herself as wet as possible.

  So now we have a montage of Carly soaping up everything in a twenty-foot radius, more of her band performing for an audience that doesn’t exist, and Hot Boy continuing to not pay any attention to the bubbly and dripping Carly. But Carly’s a trooper and isn’t about to let things like disinterest and automotive duties get in her way, so she keeps singing and scrubbing with enough perkiness and energy that if you hitched a power cable to her belly button she could light up the Eastern seaboard.

  Side note to the band-member who seems so invested in doing the moonwalk while playing his guitar: You might want to practice that move just a smidge more before you whip it out again in public, mmmkay?

  But even perpetually perky people can get a little frustrated, so when Hot Boy continues to not pay any attention to the charms of Carly, she ups the ante by assuming a variety of increasingly-provocative poses on the hood of her dripping car. (Holy cow, did you catch the size of the chunky heels on her shoes? She could seriously hurt somebody with those things.) Just as she’s surely reaching the point of exhaustion, Hot Boy finally looks her way, and Carly is so excited by the attention that she mis-scrubs and tumbles off the side of the car.

  I guess Carly hits her head on the concrete (although you’d think all of that hair would cushion the blow) because suddenly she’s having a lusty dream where she and Hot Boy (who now has his own abundance of hair) appear to be posing for the cover of a romance book that might be entitled “The Bubbling Passions of a Pirate Wench”. They clumsily paw at each other, even though Hot Boy seems to be more invested in gazing at something over Carly’s shoulder, like a burger drive-thru or a better agent.

  Then Carly recovers from her concussion, her eyes popping open back in the real world to find that Hot Boy and his paragraph of a tattoo are leaning over her prone body. Carly has a small orgasm of delight, then Hot helps her to her feet so she can run change back into her Stevie Nicks outfit and give Hot another one of her endless garage concerts. At the end of the performance, Carly rushes up to write down her phone number for Hot Boy, only to watch him basically shove her aside and hand his own phone number to one of the guys in the band.

  Didn’t see that coming. But I’m glad it did…


Click Here to Watch this Video on YouTube.