Metal Tuesday: Confessions of a Groupie (Well, Sort Of)

Editor's note: We normally run Metal Mondays on, well, Monday, but took yesterday off in honor of Memorial Day. So please enjoy today's "Metal Monday" column, by our resident rock 'n' roll lady Lauren Wise, one day later than usual.

Groupies have always fascinated me. They look like supermodels, wear about 10 square inches of translucent clothing accompanied by wickedly spiked heels (should they need to kick past security), and have the type of deluded self-confidence that causes guys like Fred Durst to think they are awesome lyricists.

The term usually has a negative connotation, since groupies are basically seen as women who will do anything in order to sleep with a musician . . . which doesn't inspire a great deal of respect. But most of them relish the thought of being celebrated as sex objects. And when it comes to groupies, heavy metal is not an equal opportunity employer: You gotta be hot, stand out, and have the drive to steal a musician from his current supermodel wife and whatnot.