Dear Ke$ha,
I saw you in concert last June. It was an amazing show, and I had the time of my life. I danced in the maelstrom of glitter and whiskey and partied all night. I made out with everyone on the dance floor and smushed a few guys in the coat check (sorry to anyone whose coat got a little … messy). At the end of the night, I headed home with an old wrinkly Australian guy — not quite Mick Jagger, but close enough, right? — and we had a bit of a sleepover.
Only instead of sleeping, we had sex.
A lot of sex.
A lot of praying mantis sex (although that's another story).
Well, that was nine months ago. I'm very pregnant with a baby boy now (I'm going to call him Ni¢hola$), and even though I don't regret anything from that night, it's great to see you take the initiative to make sure that people practice safe sex on the dance floors of your shows.
The news that you've stamped your face on the wrappers of 10,000 limited-edition condoms ("Kondom$?") to be handed out on your upcoming tour is totally cool! It's like, girl power and stuff. You're playing right here in Boston on April 12, and I'm excited to have the choice of whether or not I come home from the show bearing a little sibling for my son.
(Your) Love (is My Drug),
A Very Pregnant Member of the Daily Arts Department
