june 19

15775411

Moving

I'm going to find another site where I can password protect some of my stuff. I don't want to be like the superintendent that they chased out of here because he wrote somewhere that he was looking for a woman who knew how to use a fork, but probably was in the wrong place. Good stuff. I'll let you know. No idea when I'm going to do this, though. I'm pretty lazy. I'll email you all the link if you want to continue following my nomadic blogging. DCLW, I don't have your email address. Michael, email me your new blog address.

I got it

I got the job at the paper. I'll write more about it a little later. I think my electricity is about to go out. Gotta love gigantic tropical storms about to crash into your town. I start tomorrow assuming there's still a building left.

Wish me luck

I have an interview today for a managing editor job at a newspaper. It kinda came out of nowhere, but I'm pretty excited and a little nervous. I don't know if I'm quite qualified, but we'll see.

I thought you had the right stuff, Donnie Wahlberg. I guess I was mistaken.

You sit and ask yourself, "what does American need?" Maybe a lower unemployment rate? To rid our great country of poverty? Lower gas prices? Sure, all of those are nice, but what does it really neeeeed? Six simple words, my friends: New Kids on the Block Reunion! And God bless VH1 for trying to make this happen. On their series, "Bands Reunited," Aamer Haleem tried his best to get the former pop MEGA stars back together.

First was Jordan Knight. That guy was excited. "No more dogfood for this guy," he must have thought. Not so fast, Jordan. There are still four other guys that have to agree.

Next was that guy that supposedly had stage fright. Jonathan, I think. (I say "I think" to try to make it seem like I don't have New Kids trading cards, lunch boxes, kleenexes, action figures, hats, autographs and tattoo.) He was asked if he missed the old days. He said he did, but he didn't miss all the girls surrounding his house whenever he'd mow the lawn. Yeah...that musta sucked, I guess, if you were gay or had a vagina. What a douche. Despite his douchebaggery, he was on board. (Side note: in his IMDB profile under "nicknames," it lists "Jizz" as one of his nicknames. I had the nickname "cheeseburger" 'cause I ate a lot of them. I wonder if he got his kinda the same way.)

Next, well, I missed the next guy because I was making guacamole, but what I gathered was that they went to Miami to meet him, but the security guard at his apartment complex wouldn't let them talk to him.

Next was Joey McIntyre. He said that he didn't mind getting together for one last show, but it "had to be on New Kids' terms." Ha...I bet he watched the tape afterwards and saw how gay he looked when he said that. He said he wants to focus on his acting career. That's cute. He was a no, but he had a look in his eye that said, "don't you give up on me, Aamerr." And Aamer didn't. He was determined to get the other members to sign on and convince Joey.

At this point, I looked at the clock and noticed that the show was only on for eight more minutes. "This is insane! You can't convince Donnie Wahlberg and that other guy in eight minutes," I said out loud 'cause I'm the only one home and I get lonely sometimes.

Back to Miami they go to stake out what's his name as he came home from dropping his kids off at school. Good job, VH1. Nothing persuades a person more than jumping them in their driveway in the morning. He said no and also wouldn't appear on camera.

There was one last shot. The star of "Dreamcatcher" himself, Mr. Donnie Wahlberg. Donnie declined to be on camera and said through his management (probably his mom) that he was also a no.

This brought an end to any hope I ever had of seeing them again. I felt empty. I hung my head as a single tear rolled down my cheek and came to rest on my New Kids on the Block footie pajamas. I can only hope that Color Me Bad isn't as stubborn.

An apology to a friend

Checking my email earlier, I noticed that I had been invited to join a myspace group that was a memorial to my friend Greg. Greg passed away three years ago. Greg was a crazy guy. Crazy in the good way. Nobody disliked Greg, and if you did, then it wasn't for long. On top of that, he was one of the most selfless people I'd ever met. There's not a day that goes by where I don't think about Greg, as I'm sure is true for everyone that knew him. Everybody has a Greg anecdote. He was important to us all. After he passed, our group fell apart. People scattered. He was the glue, so to speak, and we all suffered a huge, irreplaceable loss with his passing.

As I was looking through the pictures, it made me really sad. I noticed that I was in only a few lame prom ones. I wasn't in the senior skip day photos or any of the party ones. I know he asked me to go to these things, but I turned him down for whatever reason. I took our friendship, as I do others, for granted. I was too caught up in my own stupid shit in high school. I missed out on parties because I was trying to be that good, wholesome kid that everybody liked. I also spent a lot of my time trying to impress a girl that I'd been trying to impress forever. I didn't want to do anything that she wouldn't approve of. Thank God that didn't work out. In doing all this, I missed out on a lot. I don't have all the great Greg stories that everyone else has. I don't have the memories of him that I should. I missed out on what was important.

I wasn't there enough for him when he was going through all his problems because I was selfish and I was thinking too much of myself and my own problems. My problems were such fucking trivial bullshit compared to his. I was worried about some stupid girl while he was secretly battling addiction. The fact of the matter is that he would have done anything for me no questions asked. The sad thing is that I can't say I would have done the same. I remember it got to a point that when I heard about something bad he'd done or had happened to him, my reply would be something along the lines of, "Yep, that's Greg for ya." Looking back now, I can't believe what an asshole I was sometimes when I should have been supportive. I don't know that I could have changed anything, but I could have at least been there to listen to him. I should have been there for him more than I was. He should have been able to count on me like I knew I could always count on him.

I hadn't spoken to him for at least three months before he was killed. And even when I did, it was only a short conversation here or there. We'd drifted so far apart by that time, which was entirely my fault, that his parents didn't recognize me as a good enough friend to be one of his pall bearers. And maybe at that point I wasn't.

I don't know what he thought of me those last couple years. I don't know if he thought that I'd abandoned him and become some snob. I guess I didn't really give him a good reason to think otherwise.

Not a day goes by that I don't regret not being there. I regret all the times I didn't go to parties in high school. I regret all the time we could have all spent together; time I always just assumed would be there. The worst part is that what's done is done. There's no way to go back and change what happened, and there's no way to rectify it in the future.

I just want to say that I'm sorry, Greg. I'm sorry I wasn't the friend I should have been. I'm sorry that I wasn't more supportive when you were going through all you were going through. I'm sorry that I wasn't there when you finally got your life back on track. I wasn't there to see you completely through to the other side, past all the bad luck and problems you'd had. You couldn't count on me, and for that I'm sorry.

But most importantly, I'm sorry you're gone.



I'll take it down in a day or two. I just needed to talk and didn't think anybody wanted to listen to me in person at 1am.