Yesterday Stereogum directed us over to this post: A Guide To Sex-Ing Women In Rock. In it, the author who knows two things, “rock & roll and seduction”, talks about bedding some of the hottest women in rock. Though completely fake, it’s fun to read. Our favorite one has to be the piece about Kelly Clarkson.
She plays a song, makes a beeline for me hanging out to the side of the makeshift stage and whispers in my ear her eagerness to get the hell out of there. We leave. She takes me to In & Out. Her treat. After a couple burgers (Animal Style) she takes me to her palatial Hollywood Hills estate. She has me wait on a couch in her oversized entry room while she “takes care of something.” She returns in an opened kimono and asks if I have any questions. I have none. She has her way with me. She’s a “dig in the fingernails” kind of girl, rage apparently leftover from the “Since You’ve been Gone” era.
You know, if they would’ve put that scene in From Justin To Kelly, we might have actually seen it. Maybe.