Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Hi. I'm Kelly Clarkson. You might know me as the original American Idol winner and from my movie Justin and Kelly. Hugo asked me to guest blog today, so here I am.
First, I'd like to talk about my summer. It was great! I lost my virginity to Randy Jackson. You'd think he'd be bigger in the pants, but fat dudes have little ones. It's true. I found out the hard way. Well, not that hard, if you know what I mean. I also had a big Summer tour. I traveled the entire country singing songs other people wrote for me. It was the most fun I've had since the time when I walked in on Justin and Clay Aiken making out. Talk about HOT!
I also got my first Hummer this summer. It's big and dirty, but it doesn't feel like I thought it would. It's just different when you get all that mud back there. It's not like in the movies, where the Hummer makes it despite the dirty, brown, liquid mud.
This fall, I'm working on a new album where I'll try to over-sing every lyric that nice gay couple from Holland writes for me. They're producing the entire thing and I can't wait to get in the studio to sing and watch them make out between sessions. It's gonna be a blast.
OK, that's it for now. Don't forget to come to my shows.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
I'm trying to come up with a clever outgoing message on my answering machine. I thought of using the George Constanza routine of singing, but I don't want to repeat anything. I feel like I have a good chance of breaking new ground here. Should I recite a poem? A limerick? Play a rap song or an old western tune? Or should I just record the sounds of love emanating from my new collection of porn DVD bought off the Doc at the unbelievably low rate of just $10 per copy? (It's a four-hour DVD, by the way. A great value.)
I'm asking for advice here. Any and all help will be appreciated and accepted.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Yes, he is the star of the picture.
I swear on Jesus H. Christ; if anyone else tells me about how they met Tom Cruise I'm going to go out and punch his 5'3 pretty-boy frame in his money-making face. I'm fucking sick of people telling me how excited they are about a movie being filmed in Newark. I'm fucking sick of grown women screaming like little girls with a skinned knee when he walks past. And if my girl mentions his name one more again, I promise you, as I promised her, I'm walking to that set with a can of Mace and a bat to pay Top-Gun a visit.
I'll break his Jerry Maguire legs. I'll crush his mug and make him look like Vanilla Sky.
I have nothing against the guy. I'm just tired of it all. You would too.