Well, talk about a lucky find.
I thought I had used up all my celebrity interviews. However, I was going through some old posts the other day and low and behold – I find this.
I’m still holding out on one more from the archives – plus I may be trying to wrangle a brand new interview… but we’re still trying to put the final touches on that one.
Anyhow – it will pretty much explain itself below. So, have some fun with it.
_____________________________________
Once again, dear readers – the machine that is the New Empire Lounge has come through once again, securing an interview with only the biggest of newsmakers around today – the nasty girl, herself – Janet Jackson.
We here at the Lounge have been able to secure the most extensive interview with the Queen of Pop since the now-infamous nip-slip during the Halftime show at last Sunday’s Super Bowl.
The funny thing about this interview was that, much like the well-publicized interview I had with her brother a few months ago – she comes across much different than her public persona would indicate, with a much harder, almost street-like presence about her. It was eerily similar to my interview with Michael. In fact, it was almost like I was interviewing the same person.
Regardless, I found Janet to be fairly open about the incident, as well as several others that we discussed during our near-three hour session. She did seem a bit faraway at times – and almost a little like she was a completely different personality. However, despite her constant attempts to get some of my “sweet white ass,” as she referred to it, I was able to come away fairly unscathed physically, if not completely so emotionally.
Anyhow, please take a moment to sit down and enjoy as the New Empire Lounge talks with Janet Jackson:
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
NEW EMPIRE LOUNGE: Thank you for taking the time to sit down with us today, Janet. I know things have been a little hectic for you as of late.
JANET JACKSON: Damn! They didn’t tell me you was such a fine lookin’ white boy.
NEL (embarrassed): Oh . . . um, thank you.
JJ: Hey, you know – it’s all good. I’m surprised though – Mike didn’t tell me how fine you was. He’s usually pretty good about letting me know about some good lookin’ boys.
NEL: So, I’ve heard.
JJ: What you mean by that?
NEL: Nothing. Anyhow, obviously everyone wants to know about the Super Bowl. What happened?
JJ: That was just plain old messed up. That fine little Justin Timberlake was supposed to pull off the top of my shirt – you see, I had a little sign on my bra that said “Free MJ”, you know what I’m saying?
NEL: Holla.
JJ: Right. See, I didn’t tell anyone we was gonna do that, cause they don’t want to go near the whole thing with Mike. So, anyhow – that silly little cracker goes and reaches down and pulls the whole thing right off. Before I knew what happened, my damn tittie was just hanging out there for everyone to see.
NEL: It sure was.
JJ: Yeah. You liked that, didn’t you?
NEL: Um . . . I guess so.
JJ: You want your own private showing baby?
NEL: Um . . . maybe later.
JJ: You sure? You know, after the thing at the Super Bowl, I really haven’t had much time to take care of myself, and, you know, Janet wants to get her freak on.
NEL: Well, like I said, we’ll think about it.
JJ: I’m gonna hold you to that, baby.
NEL: I’ll keep that in mind. Anyhow, so what was the reasoning behind the move in the first place? It seemed kind of out of place for the Halftime Show at the Super Bowl, don’t you think?
JJ: Well, see baby – it’s like this: I ain’t had a hit song in over 10 years, so I was surprised that they even bothered to call me in the first place. I guess they figure they can’t have MJ, they might as well get the next best thing.
NEL: Belie’ dat.
JJ: Oh, yeah – you know where I’m coming from. Anyhow, then they tell me they want me to sing these old songs of mine, and I’m all like, “What the f*** is up with that? You want me to perform on the god damn Super Bowl and you ain’t even gonna have me do a new song? What the f*** is wrong with you people?” So, I figure that I’d put that little message on my bra, you know – to kinda support MJ and maybe take a little heat off him. Plus, it’s always nice to cause a little buzz around Miss Nasty, you know what I’m saying?
NEL: I hear ya. Well, you definitely succeeded with that part, at least. There’s more people talking about Janet Jackson now than there were back in the 80’s when you were still popular.
JJ: What you saying – Janet ain’t popular no more?
NEL: Well, like you said – you haven’t had a hit song since Clinton was in office – first term even.
JJ: Yeah, I guess you right.
NEL: So, anyhow – are you surprised about all the attention you’ve gotten thanks to this little “mishap?”
JJ: Kinda. I mean, when you get right down to it – it’s just a tit. What’s the big problem? If you a woman – you got ‘em. I just don’t see what the big deal is. Hell – you ever see one of my dance routines? That’s a hell of a lot more obscene that just seeing a tit. If I was one of those prissy “what about the children” types, I’d be more pissed off about that then seeing a tit. That’s the problem with people these days – they’re all way too sensitive and most of them are sensitive about the wrong things.
NEL: True dat. However, not everyone is sensitive about it – according to TiVo, that nip slip was the most replayed moment ever on their system. How or why they can know that is beyond me, but apparently it’s a fact.
JJ: Yeah, that’s crazy. I guess there are still some people out there that love, Janet after all. Besides, you know what they say, “Any publicity is good publicity.”
NEL: Especially where you’re concerned.
JJ: Right. Um . . . what was that?
NEL: Nothing. So, let’s see – you’ve posed for magazine covers with a man’s hand covering your bare chest, you’ve had almost as much plastic surgery as your brother and now you’ve bared your right tit for the whole world – and then some – to see. Will you be making the full plunge and posing for Playboy anytime soon?
JJ: Aw – I don’t know about that, yo. The family wasn’t too happy about it when LaToya posed – she was in the dog house with them for a long time. Though, now that I think about it – I don’t think she really ever figured it out. I mean, she came around the house and no one would talk to her, but that’s like any other time Toya comes by.
NEL: Intriguing. So, they got mad at LaToya for posing in nude in Playboy, but showing one of your hooters to a stadium full off drunken football fans is acceptable?
JJ: Well, like I said, that was an accident.
NEL: Oh, that’ right – I forgot . . . an “accident.”
JJ: Yeah. One thing I would like to do is get back into acting a little more.
NEL: That’s right. Everyone remembers you as the young cute girlfriend of Willis on “Diff’rent Strokes.”
JJ: Yeah, that was a mother f**king blast. Todd Bridges and I spent a lot of time together, both on and off the set.
NEL: And now he’s an armed felon. Go figure.
JJ: Yeah.
NEL: So, do you have any projects lined up for your grand return to the big screen?
JJ: Um, no not yet. I’ve gotten a few things, but nothing that really excites me. I still need to get ahold of the people over at Cinemax. Someone over there is real anxious to talk to me. Those mother f***ers are leaving three, four messages a day for me, talking about something called, “Miss Nasty.” Sounds pretty cool.
NEL: You know – that’s probably the least shocking thing I’ve heard all day. So, any last words for your fans out there?
JJ: Yo, yo - I just want to give a shout out to all my fans – to let them know that I love them and that I will be back and bigger than ever real soon. The exposure I’ll be getting will just blow you all away. Belie’ dat. And for all the haters out there . . . go f*** yourselves.
NEL: Well spoken. Thanks for your time once again, Janet.
JJ: That’s Miss Jackson if you’re nasty.
NEL: Ha. Very funny.
JJ: Damn straight. Yo, yo - FREE MJ!!
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
More Fun With Old Girlfriends...
This is a follow-up to the first letter from Amy. Actually, its not so much a follow-up as it is a second, sordid chapter in our tale - but whatever... you get the point.
************************************
I was sitting around last night, pondering on whether to write about wet dreams or rant on all of the stupidity in the world today, when I came across an unexpected little surprise . . .
Yup . . . it’s another Amy letter.
Obviously, everything else gets put on hold, since the last Amy letter was such a smashing success (and by “smashing success” I mean that at least one person actually liked it).
I actually didn’t even remember I had this letter. I was finally getting around to cleaning out the old letter box, and found it buried in another envelope. It’s dated September 8, but I don’t know what year it was. I’m guessing this is September 1992, since I was back in Columbus in Sept. 1991 and I don’t think it was then – but those days are mostly a blur, so anything’s possible.
Now, for those of you that missed the original Amy letter, you can get all caught up by reading the entry below. That should pretty much explain where we’ve been so far. This would be the letter that precipitated that last meeting between us – the one that ended with me driving 45 minutes out of my way for nothing.
Anyhow, like before, I’ll caption my comments randomly throughout the letter, since I think I’m really funny and smartass comments in the middle of crazy rambling letters amuse me. It’s kind of like my own little literary version of Mystery Science Theater 3000. And believe me, this is as bad a cinema as anything they’ve ever shown.
By the way, this letter is typed exactly how she wrote it – I would never let something with so many blatant grammatical errors ever be attributed to me. Assuming I wasn’t drunk, of course.
Dear Bob –
Hello! Well, I just got off the phone with you and I decided to sit down and write you a little letter telling you the things I didn’t tell you on the phone.
[What? That you’re insane?]
First of all, this letter Is not going to be like all the other letters I’ve ever written you [which would be one] saying I’m sorry for all the things I’ve done to you and that I hope you can forgive me – this letter won’t say that – ok?
[Um . . . it just did . . . ]
However, I do have to bring up this one “past” thing concerning you and I (sorry).
[I thought you weren’t going to say “sorry.” Psycho.]
The kiss that you and I shared in my garage that one very snowy night, was the best I’ve ever had.
[Heh. Yeah, baby.]
There are still times I find myself lost in that one moment with and frankly it scares me.
[Now you know how I feel . . .]
Now I know you know me probably better than any of my other friends and you know I’ve gone out with my share of guys and yes even kissed them (oh my God are you serious!!!).
[Obviously, her sarcasm at the end of that sentence shows that she too realizes that she’s a bit on the easy side. Granted, I never got anywhere with her, so I can only imagine what that says about me. Actually, I know exactly what it means – that even she could be disgusted by someone who makes starving Africans look like Marlon Brando.]
But never, and I mean never, did I feel the way I did that night. I always remember Gina telling us you made her see fireworks when you first started going out . . .
[Those weren’t fireworks. They were the tracers I used to disorient her. It made things a lot easier for me back then.]
. . . and of course, being the goofy, immature high school girls that we were, we always laughed and giggled – but I know what she meant and that’s what my problem seems to be.
[You mean, aside from the schizophrenia?]
I don’t mean to come and go in your life, it just seems to be the easiest way to keep from falling for you. I love having you as a friend, you’ve always been my best friend no matter how long we go without talking, it’s like no time has past between us, we just pick up where we left off, but in all honesty I don’t know how long I can go on lying to myself and you.
[That would be for another couple days at least.]
My feelings for you have always been strong, even when you and Gina were going out I liked you. That’s why when I called you earlier tonight I was so glad you weren’t home, because in all honesty I was hoping you wouldn’t call back and then I could begin getting over you – but NO!!
[Duh. I was 21 and just got an unexpected call from a chick. Like I’m going to let a potential chance to get laid go by the wayside. Please.]
Is this an omen from God or is he trying to play a constant, horrible game with me and my emotions – I just don’t know.
[Um, I do. It’s not God playing the games, honey.]
Ok, now that I’ve gotten that off my chest I will leave it up to you. Please call or write when you get this letter. Take care.
Love, Amy.
If you read the previous letter, you know what happened next. I called, met her for a quick slobbering session in her dorm room, planned to see her the next day and she was nowhere to be found when I got there. I kind of figured it would happen, but like I said – I was 21 and full of the hormones. I figured if I could keep her sane long enough to get some, it would’ve been worth the effort.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be and truthfully, that’s probably for the best. Lord knows what types of emotional trauma I would have been in for had I made it to the promised land with her. I can only imagine it would have left one of us in an asylum of some sort . . . though, as I mentioned before, I’m not so sure she didn’t end up there anyhow.
If anything, I think I’ll keep these letters around, so that when my little girl grows up, she can learn to differentiate between the right way to treat a nice, honorable young man and how to act like a complete and utter mental patient.
Of course, living with my genes in her body, she’ll get a crash course for that sooner than any of us would expect, but that’s a story for another time.
************************************
I was sitting around last night, pondering on whether to write about wet dreams or rant on all of the stupidity in the world today, when I came across an unexpected little surprise . . .
Yup . . . it’s another Amy letter.
Obviously, everything else gets put on hold, since the last Amy letter was such a smashing success (and by “smashing success” I mean that at least one person actually liked it).
I actually didn’t even remember I had this letter. I was finally getting around to cleaning out the old letter box, and found it buried in another envelope. It’s dated September 8, but I don’t know what year it was. I’m guessing this is September 1992, since I was back in Columbus in Sept. 1991 and I don’t think it was then – but those days are mostly a blur, so anything’s possible.
Now, for those of you that missed the original Amy letter, you can get all caught up by reading the entry below. That should pretty much explain where we’ve been so far. This would be the letter that precipitated that last meeting between us – the one that ended with me driving 45 minutes out of my way for nothing.
Anyhow, like before, I’ll caption my comments randomly throughout the letter, since I think I’m really funny and smartass comments in the middle of crazy rambling letters amuse me. It’s kind of like my own little literary version of Mystery Science Theater 3000. And believe me, this is as bad a cinema as anything they’ve ever shown.
By the way, this letter is typed exactly how she wrote it – I would never let something with so many blatant grammatical errors ever be attributed to me. Assuming I wasn’t drunk, of course.
Dear Bob –
Hello! Well, I just got off the phone with you and I decided to sit down and write you a little letter telling you the things I didn’t tell you on the phone.
[What? That you’re insane?]
First of all, this letter Is not going to be like all the other letters I’ve ever written you [which would be one] saying I’m sorry for all the things I’ve done to you and that I hope you can forgive me – this letter won’t say that – ok?
[Um . . . it just did . . . ]
However, I do have to bring up this one “past” thing concerning you and I (sorry).
[I thought you weren’t going to say “sorry.” Psycho.]
The kiss that you and I shared in my garage that one very snowy night, was the best I’ve ever had.
[Heh. Yeah, baby.]
There are still times I find myself lost in that one moment with and frankly it scares me.
[Now you know how I feel . . .]
Now I know you know me probably better than any of my other friends and you know I’ve gone out with my share of guys and yes even kissed them (oh my God are you serious!!!).
[Obviously, her sarcasm at the end of that sentence shows that she too realizes that she’s a bit on the easy side. Granted, I never got anywhere with her, so I can only imagine what that says about me. Actually, I know exactly what it means – that even she could be disgusted by someone who makes starving Africans look like Marlon Brando.]
But never, and I mean never, did I feel the way I did that night. I always remember Gina telling us you made her see fireworks when you first started going out . . .
[Those weren’t fireworks. They were the tracers I used to disorient her. It made things a lot easier for me back then.]
. . . and of course, being the goofy, immature high school girls that we were, we always laughed and giggled – but I know what she meant and that’s what my problem seems to be.
[You mean, aside from the schizophrenia?]
I don’t mean to come and go in your life, it just seems to be the easiest way to keep from falling for you. I love having you as a friend, you’ve always been my best friend no matter how long we go without talking, it’s like no time has past between us, we just pick up where we left off, but in all honesty I don’t know how long I can go on lying to myself and you.
[That would be for another couple days at least.]
My feelings for you have always been strong, even when you and Gina were going out I liked you. That’s why when I called you earlier tonight I was so glad you weren’t home, because in all honesty I was hoping you wouldn’t call back and then I could begin getting over you – but NO!!
[Duh. I was 21 and just got an unexpected call from a chick. Like I’m going to let a potential chance to get laid go by the wayside. Please.]
Is this an omen from God or is he trying to play a constant, horrible game with me and my emotions – I just don’t know.
[Um, I do. It’s not God playing the games, honey.]
Ok, now that I’ve gotten that off my chest I will leave it up to you. Please call or write when you get this letter. Take care.
Love, Amy.
If you read the previous letter, you know what happened next. I called, met her for a quick slobbering session in her dorm room, planned to see her the next day and she was nowhere to be found when I got there. I kind of figured it would happen, but like I said – I was 21 and full of the hormones. I figured if I could keep her sane long enough to get some, it would’ve been worth the effort.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be and truthfully, that’s probably for the best. Lord knows what types of emotional trauma I would have been in for had I made it to the promised land with her. I can only imagine it would have left one of us in an asylum of some sort . . . though, as I mentioned before, I’m not so sure she didn’t end up there anyhow.
If anything, I think I’ll keep these letters around, so that when my little girl grows up, she can learn to differentiate between the right way to treat a nice, honorable young man and how to act like a complete and utter mental patient.
Of course, living with my genes in her body, she’ll get a crash course for that sooner than any of us would expect, but that’s a story for another time.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Another Blast From The Past
This is another classic from the archives. I'll just let it go from here:
The great thing about moving (and believe me, there aren’t many) is that you occasionally find things that for some dumbass reason or another, you should have tossed away years ago, but manage to keep around just for the sake of reminding you how truly stupid you used to be.
Case in point, while unpacking some of our remaining boxes left over from the big move, I came across a box of old pictures and letters from some of the young ladies I happened to frequent back in the day. The pictures – which I’ll share eventually – I keep around just to take a look back at how freakishly malnourished I looked when I was in my late teens, so I can understand why I wasn’t getting laid as much as my friends were. Well, that and the fact that I had the social skills of a tree stump.
The letters, on the other hand, I used to keep around for other, more nefarious reasons. While decorum and humility prohibits me from going into too much detail, let’s just say that I was single for most of my early 20’s and some of the letters were really, really good.
Regardless, having now been happily married for almost the last three years, I’ve made the command decision that I’ll be getting rid of these letters. Despite how it may look, the Mrs. had no part in my making this decision – and in fact will probably be finding out about it for the first time when she reads this post. I just figured that it could be potentially awkward to have my daughter come across these letters some day and wonder who this person is that isn’t her mommy, writing about riding me like a racehorse.
However, that doesn’t mean that we can’t have some fun with them before they meet their fiery demise, right?
So, in the interest of making myself look far cooler than I actually was at the time, I picked this letter out of the bunch to share with you all. While it isn’t as “intimate” as some of the others, I found it a fine choice in that it shows a girl, obviously looking for penance after shamelessly and callously disrespecting your hero. And, if there is anything better that a woman begging for your forgiveness – I don’t want to know what that is.
I’ll throw in some added commentary to boot – for no other reason than I think it will be really funny. Besides, she wrote the thing in one huge paragraph, so it will help to break it up a bit and make it an easier read. See how I take care of you?
I suppose I should offer a quick back-story, to help you all understand what’s going on here. The year is 1991. I, a surly, dorky 20-year old stallion had just returned back to his apartment on the campus of The Ohio State University, where he was busy studying the fine points of playing Euchre and Asshole, and learning various methods of stealth puking at keg parties.
During our Christmas break, I had started up a minor romantic-type situation with Amy, a girl who was close friends with my first long-term girlfriend, Gina. She also at one point had dated Mike (no relation) who was a good friend on mine at the time. He had broken up with her several months prior to this – but still became angered at me when he found out the situation. This confused me, since like I said – he had broken up with her months before, and from what I was told – had lost interest in her even before that. But that’s a story for another time.
Anyhow, Amy and I had chatted a couple times during that fall and things seemed to be progressing to the point of something major happening during said break. What instead happened was a day’s worth of playing around the issue, about 20 minutes of actual action and another day’s worth of me expecting us to go out on a date, but instead waiting around for a phone call that never came.
(Insert violins and shot of me with a single tear running down my cheek here).
So I went back to Columbus, confused and a little bit (okay, a lot) irritated, but eventually after a week of heavy drinking and patronizing sorority houses – I got over it. Then, one snowy day in February, I received this:
I know you are probably thinking, “Why is this bitch writing me after all this time, what does she want now?”
[Actually, that wasn’t the case at all. At that point in my life, I was happy to hear from anyone – even a heartless shrew that left me confused and bitter.]
Well, the reason I’m writing you is for 1) to see how you’re doing, 2) to tell you I’m sorry and 3) to tell you that I miss you and I miss our friendship. Everything bad that could have happened over Christmas Vacation happened and everything I didn’t want to feel, I felt. You confused me, I confused you, I felt I was being pressured so I shut you out.
[Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I was a tad, um, shall we say “needy” back then, but not even I could have done anything to make someone feel pressured in only two days. It usually took me at least five, if I really liked the girl.]
If there was one thing about us that I loved the most, was we could always communicate to one another. You were my best friend in the whole wide world Bobbie and believe it or not I still consider you to be that. You helped me get over Mike, and I hope I helped you understand Gina a little better. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t handle it. I always felt like you weren’t going to be happy, that something was bothering you. I wanted you to be happy and I felt like all I could give you was sadness.
[Oy, where do I begin? First of all, I don’t know how we could have been best friends, since prior to that we talked sparingly at best. I don’t recall ever helping the other get over our respective better halves, but it was over 10 years ago, so I could be mistaken. As for the bothering me part, sure something was bothering me – I was 20, not getting laid and being led around like an idiot by a schizophrenic lunatic. What would you expect?]
I never, ever meant to hurt you and I swear that on a stack of bibles, but I felt like I was backed into a corner and I didn’t know what to do. That night in my garage, is one that I will never forget, and I mean never. I felt something so strange when you kissed me that I thought I was going to faint.
[That would have been my tongue. Heh.]
Every time we kissed I liked you more, but I had a “boyfriend.”
[Yeah, like that mattered. This chick was a nice girl, but fidelity was never a strong suit. Believe me, her messing around on a boyfriend wasn’t anything unusual. Besides, the night in the garage was the only time we kissed anyhow, so I’m not sure what the hell she was talking about.]
There were times when I wished that he would just be gone and then everything would be ok. But suddenly I realized that to start a relationship with you wouldn’t be right. I believe that if things are meant to be that they will be and when they do come back their meant to last forever.
[Oh really?]
Maybe that’s you and I, maybe not, but either way I would still love to be friends. I’m still going out with Jason and I am happy with him, even though he is basically everything I never wanted in a guy, but I’m happy now & I hope you are too.
I hope everything is going well for you. Please write if you get a chance. I do miss you.
Love, Amy
Touching, eh? Given that I was less than enthralled with her at this point and figured I had nothing to lose anyhow, I replied to her with one of the most scathing letters I had ever written anyone. I was so proud of myself. I never got out of hand or called her names, but instead was concise and to the point, just like the Godfather. In fact, I think I even stole a line from the book about not wanting to thrust my friendship on someone who values it so little, or something like that. It was great.
However, a couple years after the fact our paths crossed again. Sure enough, the old spark got the best of me and we tried again – with the exact same result. I met her over at her dorm room for an evening of wonderful conversation and heavy petting. We arranged to meet up the next day for lunch and perhaps another afternoon of fine conversation and heavy petting.
Instead, I took the 45 minute drive from my parents’ house to her college for our planned meeting, only to find out that she had ‘left with some friends about 15 minutes earlier.” This was a lie, since I heard the girl at the front desk talk to someone in her room – and she didn’t have a roommate – but I decided not to bother and simply left.
I don’t know what ever became of her, but I’d guess that a stay in a sanitarium was probably in order at some point. Doesn’t much matter, since I’m far better off now anyhow, but it’s still fun to ponder.
The great thing about moving (and believe me, there aren’t many) is that you occasionally find things that for some dumbass reason or another, you should have tossed away years ago, but manage to keep around just for the sake of reminding you how truly stupid you used to be.
Case in point, while unpacking some of our remaining boxes left over from the big move, I came across a box of old pictures and letters from some of the young ladies I happened to frequent back in the day. The pictures – which I’ll share eventually – I keep around just to take a look back at how freakishly malnourished I looked when I was in my late teens, so I can understand why I wasn’t getting laid as much as my friends were. Well, that and the fact that I had the social skills of a tree stump.
The letters, on the other hand, I used to keep around for other, more nefarious reasons. While decorum and humility prohibits me from going into too much detail, let’s just say that I was single for most of my early 20’s and some of the letters were really, really good.
Regardless, having now been happily married for almost the last three years, I’ve made the command decision that I’ll be getting rid of these letters. Despite how it may look, the Mrs. had no part in my making this decision – and in fact will probably be finding out about it for the first time when she reads this post. I just figured that it could be potentially awkward to have my daughter come across these letters some day and wonder who this person is that isn’t her mommy, writing about riding me like a racehorse.
However, that doesn’t mean that we can’t have some fun with them before they meet their fiery demise, right?
So, in the interest of making myself look far cooler than I actually was at the time, I picked this letter out of the bunch to share with you all. While it isn’t as “intimate” as some of the others, I found it a fine choice in that it shows a girl, obviously looking for penance after shamelessly and callously disrespecting your hero. And, if there is anything better that a woman begging for your forgiveness – I don’t want to know what that is.
I’ll throw in some added commentary to boot – for no other reason than I think it will be really funny. Besides, she wrote the thing in one huge paragraph, so it will help to break it up a bit and make it an easier read. See how I take care of you?
I suppose I should offer a quick back-story, to help you all understand what’s going on here. The year is 1991. I, a surly, dorky 20-year old stallion had just returned back to his apartment on the campus of The Ohio State University, where he was busy studying the fine points of playing Euchre and Asshole, and learning various methods of stealth puking at keg parties.
During our Christmas break, I had started up a minor romantic-type situation with Amy, a girl who was close friends with my first long-term girlfriend, Gina. She also at one point had dated Mike (no relation) who was a good friend on mine at the time. He had broken up with her several months prior to this – but still became angered at me when he found out the situation. This confused me, since like I said – he had broken up with her months before, and from what I was told – had lost interest in her even before that. But that’s a story for another time.
Anyhow, Amy and I had chatted a couple times during that fall and things seemed to be progressing to the point of something major happening during said break. What instead happened was a day’s worth of playing around the issue, about 20 minutes of actual action and another day’s worth of me expecting us to go out on a date, but instead waiting around for a phone call that never came.
(Insert violins and shot of me with a single tear running down my cheek here).
So I went back to Columbus, confused and a little bit (okay, a lot) irritated, but eventually after a week of heavy drinking and patronizing sorority houses – I got over it. Then, one snowy day in February, I received this:
I know you are probably thinking, “Why is this bitch writing me after all this time, what does she want now?”
[Actually, that wasn’t the case at all. At that point in my life, I was happy to hear from anyone – even a heartless shrew that left me confused and bitter.]
Well, the reason I’m writing you is for 1) to see how you’re doing, 2) to tell you I’m sorry and 3) to tell you that I miss you and I miss our friendship. Everything bad that could have happened over Christmas Vacation happened and everything I didn’t want to feel, I felt. You confused me, I confused you, I felt I was being pressured so I shut you out.
[Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I was a tad, um, shall we say “needy” back then, but not even I could have done anything to make someone feel pressured in only two days. It usually took me at least five, if I really liked the girl.]
If there was one thing about us that I loved the most, was we could always communicate to one another. You were my best friend in the whole wide world Bobbie and believe it or not I still consider you to be that. You helped me get over Mike, and I hope I helped you understand Gina a little better. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t handle it. I always felt like you weren’t going to be happy, that something was bothering you. I wanted you to be happy and I felt like all I could give you was sadness.
[Oy, where do I begin? First of all, I don’t know how we could have been best friends, since prior to that we talked sparingly at best. I don’t recall ever helping the other get over our respective better halves, but it was over 10 years ago, so I could be mistaken. As for the bothering me part, sure something was bothering me – I was 20, not getting laid and being led around like an idiot by a schizophrenic lunatic. What would you expect?]
I never, ever meant to hurt you and I swear that on a stack of bibles, but I felt like I was backed into a corner and I didn’t know what to do. That night in my garage, is one that I will never forget, and I mean never. I felt something so strange when you kissed me that I thought I was going to faint.
[That would have been my tongue. Heh.]
Every time we kissed I liked you more, but I had a “boyfriend.”
[Yeah, like that mattered. This chick was a nice girl, but fidelity was never a strong suit. Believe me, her messing around on a boyfriend wasn’t anything unusual. Besides, the night in the garage was the only time we kissed anyhow, so I’m not sure what the hell she was talking about.]
There were times when I wished that he would just be gone and then everything would be ok. But suddenly I realized that to start a relationship with you wouldn’t be right. I believe that if things are meant to be that they will be and when they do come back their meant to last forever.
[Oh really?]
Maybe that’s you and I, maybe not, but either way I would still love to be friends. I’m still going out with Jason and I am happy with him, even though he is basically everything I never wanted in a guy, but I’m happy now & I hope you are too.
I hope everything is going well for you. Please write if you get a chance. I do miss you.
Love, Amy
Touching, eh? Given that I was less than enthralled with her at this point and figured I had nothing to lose anyhow, I replied to her with one of the most scathing letters I had ever written anyone. I was so proud of myself. I never got out of hand or called her names, but instead was concise and to the point, just like the Godfather. In fact, I think I even stole a line from the book about not wanting to thrust my friendship on someone who values it so little, or something like that. It was great.
However, a couple years after the fact our paths crossed again. Sure enough, the old spark got the best of me and we tried again – with the exact same result. I met her over at her dorm room for an evening of wonderful conversation and heavy petting. We arranged to meet up the next day for lunch and perhaps another afternoon of fine conversation and heavy petting.
Instead, I took the 45 minute drive from my parents’ house to her college for our planned meeting, only to find out that she had ‘left with some friends about 15 minutes earlier.” This was a lie, since I heard the girl at the front desk talk to someone in her room – and she didn’t have a roommate – but I decided not to bother and simply left.
I don’t know what ever became of her, but I’d guess that a stay in a sanitarium was probably in order at some point. Doesn’t much matter, since I’m far better off now anyhow, but it’s still fun to ponder.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
One Step Away From The Old Folks Home...
I came to an incredibly sad realization the other evening.
I’ve become my father.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change the batteries in my hearing aid, sit in my rocking chair and listen to my Tony Bennett records.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Oops I Did It Again...
Well, if this isn't just about great timing...
I was looking through some more of my old articles, and I found a celebrity interview that I completely forgot I even did. I thought I only had three - and was going to post the third one up here tonight - but found this one instead.
The timing is great, because the subject of this interview just made a major splash at last evening's MTV Video Music Awards (which I admit to having watched - and will follow up with a post on that shortly).
Anyhow, I just found it and didn't bother to re-read it, so if it sucks - I apologize.
Regardless - here you go...
*************************************************************************
If there’s one thing I’ve come to learn in my short time here at the Lounge, it’s that there’s no short supply of people willing to make asses of themselves in this world. Be it in Hollywood or on the goddamned T ride into work, rest assured that somewhere – there’s some ass clown doing something stupid that’s eventually going to get them splattered all over the front pages of tabloids everywhere.
And, when they do – I’ll be there to get the exclusive story.
Case in point: today I have for you – my loving, caring, loyal readers – an exclusive one-on-one interview with the newly divorced queen of pop, Britney Spears. Thanks to a call to a friend of a friend of a friend – and the promise of a few more slightly unorthodox sexual favors – I was able to procure the first interview with the 22-year old diva since her wedding to George Costanza was annulled on Monday.
Spears was upbeat and at ease throughout the entire interview, possibly due to the five apple martinis she consumed during the 45-minute session. She also kept making reference to “that filthy slut Cameron” but refused to elaborate any further.
Here now – in its entirety – The New Empire Lounge interviews Britney Spears
NEW EMPIRE LOUNGE: Thanks for taking the time to sit down with us, Britney.
BRITNEY SPEARS: Oh, you stop that now, Rob – you know I’ll do anything for you.
NEL (embarrassed): Yeah, well . . .
BS: So, have you given any more thought to what I asked you before?
NEL: Yeah, you know – it’s really nice of you to offer, but I’m a happily married man and it just wouldn’t be right.
BS: Well, just know that the offer is still standing.
NEL: Um . . . well, thanks.
BS: You got it, sugar.
NEL: Anyhow, the big question on everybody’s mind is – what happened in Vegas?
BS: You know, Hon, it was just one of those crazy things. We were all out drinking and having a good time and all of a sudden I was starting to feel a little bad, thinking about Justin and that whole fiasco with Ryan Perry and so Jason came out to cheer me up. We were talking and goofing around and one of us – I can’t remember who because I was SO wasted – said, “Hey, let’s run over and get married,” kind of like little kids do when they’re, you know, little. So we did.
NEL: And then?
BS: Well, when I came to the next morning I had this pounding headache and the runs like you would not believe. All the shades were closed in the hotel room – and if you’ve ever stayed in a hotel room you know that it can be the middle of the day and if those things are closed it is still pitch black in the room – so I didn’t even realize that Jason was there. After about a good 45 minutes in the crapper, I stumbled back into bed and fell right on him. He jumped, which scared the shit out of me so bad, I literally threw up right on his face.
NEL: Bet he appreciated that.
BS: You know, now that I look back on it, he really didn’t seem all that bothered by it. Hmm, that’s weird.
NEL: Well, you know what they say: “Different strokes . . .”
BS: Yeah, I guess.
NEL: So, are you surprised by all the media attention this has received?
BS: I suppose I should be, but to be honest with you, sugar – I’m really not. Anymore it seems like the littlest things I do become plastered all over the place. I guess its just like you always say with people and their fascination with celebrities. I just don’t understand it. I mean, so I got drunk and married someone on a whim? People do that all the time, yet when I do it, Entertainment Tonight dedicates a week’s worth of shows to it.
Same thing with the whole Madonna incident. Women open-mouth kiss other women all the time, yet I kiss Madonna and I can’t get a moment’s rest.
NEL: Ooh, yeah, what about that – what was that like?
BS: It really wasn’t that big of a deal. I mean, it’s not like I’ve never kissed anyone before. I’ve kissed plenty of people, just never a washed up pop icon trying to latch on to whatever shred of mainstream popularity she can get a hold of.
NEL: Yeah, that was pretty pathetic.
BS: I mean, don’t get me wrong – I love Madonna and what she’s done for all of us as female pop icons/sex symbols. But, let’s be honest, it really was sad. I mean, she came up to me literally minutes before we were supposed to go on, and was all like, “Oh, Britney please do this with me. Just think of all the press we’ll get for it. We can be the biggest story ever. We’ll be huge.” And, I’m all like, “Whatever, grandma – I don’t know what this ‘we’ crap is. I’m already huge, I don’t need to make out with your old ass to be a big hit.” After a while, I just started to feel bad for her, so I said yes just to get her to stop bugging me.
NEL: Man, that really is pathetic. But it was still hot.
BS: Eh – truthfully, Hon, it didn’t do anything for me.
NEL: Yeah, that’s understandable. I can only imagine what she must smell like. I just get the impression that she really reeks. Don’t ask me why, I just do.
BS: You’re not far off with that.
NEL: Besides, I think most everyone would have much rather seen you kiss Christina anyhow. That would have really blown people’s minds.
BS: That’s the thing that kills me about this whole issue. It’s not like I was the only one there, you know. Christina was there and she kissed Madonna too, but you’d never know it because the cameramen at the VMA’s were too concerned with Justin’s reaction to me, rather than shooting her. I mean – what the hell is THAT about?
NEL: I don’t think you’ll find too many people disagreeing with that sentiment. I’m surprised someone didn’t lose their job over that one. Lord knows if I were in charge over there, heads would’ve rolled.
BS: Truthfully, I would have rather kissed Christina anyhow. She is just so hot, don’t you think?
NEL: Well, I don’t want My Baby’s Mama beating me, so I’m going to respectfully decline that one. Suffice it to say, I think you’ve just helped a good portion of the male population between the ages of 13-16 sleep much, much better tonight with that one.
BS (blushing): Oh, stop that. You’re embarrassing me.
NEL: Oh come on, now – what do you think all those boys are doing with those calendars? Astronomy homework?
BS: Truthfully, I try not to think about it.
NEL: I don’t blame you – that’s pretty sick. So, anyhow – what’s next for you? You’ve climbed the top of the pop charts, made fans of millions of teeny-boppers and oversexed young men, starred in a movie that approximately 16 people went to see, made out with a washed up old hag with a Peter Pan complex and had a quickie Vegas marriage annulled faster than most people take to purchase a car. How can you possibly top any of that?
BS: Well, that’s a really good question. Honestly, part of me wants to stay out of the spotlight and keep my personal life separate from my business life, but I’ve found that anytime I’m away from a camera for more than 36 to 48 hours, I start to get this really weird twitch. At first I just thought it was nerves or from not drinking, so I started drinking more. However, when I was getting hammered and still getting that twitch, I started to worry. Then, one night someone came over and asked to get a picture with me and all of a sudden, the twitching stopped. Sure enough, the next time the twitching started, I went up to a fan to see if she wanted get a picture taken with me – but she got all freaked out so I had to wait until a group of teenage boys came by – but sure enough, we took the picture and the twitching stopped again.
NEL: Wow. That’s just fascinating.
BS: I know, isn’t it? So, now I just keep a portable camera with me in case the twitching starts. Sometimes I scare people, coming at them, twitching like crazy and asking them to take pictures with me, so I usually try to find teenaged boys. They could care less about the twitching – especially if I’m wearing a low-cut blouse.
NEL: Yup, they sure are a resilient bunch.
BS: But, still I’d really like to take some time off and just be Britney. No touring, no video shoots, no paparazzi . . . well, maybe one, just so I don’t have to keep buying these portable cameras all the time – just me and my friends – hanging out, drinking, partying and having a good old time, just relaxing on a beach somewhere.
NEL: Sounds like a major scene.
BS: Well, you know how it is . . . all work and no play makes Brit a dull girl.
NEL: So I’ve heard.
BS: So – you sure you don’t want to take me up on my offer?
NEL: Really, Britney – I appreciate it, but I just can’t. It just wouldn’t look right.
BS: Well, like I said – the offer is always open.
NEL: Thanks. You’re a doll.
I was looking through some more of my old articles, and I found a celebrity interview that I completely forgot I even did. I thought I only had three - and was going to post the third one up here tonight - but found this one instead.
The timing is great, because the subject of this interview just made a major splash at last evening's MTV Video Music Awards (which I admit to having watched - and will follow up with a post on that shortly).
Anyhow, I just found it and didn't bother to re-read it, so if it sucks - I apologize.
Regardless - here you go...
*************************************************************************
If there’s one thing I’ve come to learn in my short time here at the Lounge, it’s that there’s no short supply of people willing to make asses of themselves in this world. Be it in Hollywood or on the goddamned T ride into work, rest assured that somewhere – there’s some ass clown doing something stupid that’s eventually going to get them splattered all over the front pages of tabloids everywhere.
And, when they do – I’ll be there to get the exclusive story.
Case in point: today I have for you – my loving, caring, loyal readers – an exclusive one-on-one interview with the newly divorced queen of pop, Britney Spears. Thanks to a call to a friend of a friend of a friend – and the promise of a few more slightly unorthodox sexual favors – I was able to procure the first interview with the 22-year old diva since her wedding to George Costanza was annulled on Monday.
Spears was upbeat and at ease throughout the entire interview, possibly due to the five apple martinis she consumed during the 45-minute session. She also kept making reference to “that filthy slut Cameron” but refused to elaborate any further.
Here now – in its entirety – The New Empire Lounge interviews Britney Spears
NEW EMPIRE LOUNGE: Thanks for taking the time to sit down with us, Britney.
BRITNEY SPEARS: Oh, you stop that now, Rob – you know I’ll do anything for you.
NEL (embarrassed): Yeah, well . . .
BS: So, have you given any more thought to what I asked you before?
NEL: Yeah, you know – it’s really nice of you to offer, but I’m a happily married man and it just wouldn’t be right.
BS: Well, just know that the offer is still standing.
NEL: Um . . . well, thanks.
BS: You got it, sugar.
NEL: Anyhow, the big question on everybody’s mind is – what happened in Vegas?
BS: You know, Hon, it was just one of those crazy things. We were all out drinking and having a good time and all of a sudden I was starting to feel a little bad, thinking about Justin and that whole fiasco with Ryan Perry and so Jason came out to cheer me up. We were talking and goofing around and one of us – I can’t remember who because I was SO wasted – said, “Hey, let’s run over and get married,” kind of like little kids do when they’re, you know, little. So we did.
NEL: And then?
BS: Well, when I came to the next morning I had this pounding headache and the runs like you would not believe. All the shades were closed in the hotel room – and if you’ve ever stayed in a hotel room you know that it can be the middle of the day and if those things are closed it is still pitch black in the room – so I didn’t even realize that Jason was there. After about a good 45 minutes in the crapper, I stumbled back into bed and fell right on him. He jumped, which scared the shit out of me so bad, I literally threw up right on his face.
NEL: Bet he appreciated that.
BS: You know, now that I look back on it, he really didn’t seem all that bothered by it. Hmm, that’s weird.
NEL: Well, you know what they say: “Different strokes . . .”
BS: Yeah, I guess.
NEL: So, are you surprised by all the media attention this has received?
BS: I suppose I should be, but to be honest with you, sugar – I’m really not. Anymore it seems like the littlest things I do become plastered all over the place. I guess its just like you always say with people and their fascination with celebrities. I just don’t understand it. I mean, so I got drunk and married someone on a whim? People do that all the time, yet when I do it, Entertainment Tonight dedicates a week’s worth of shows to it.
Same thing with the whole Madonna incident. Women open-mouth kiss other women all the time, yet I kiss Madonna and I can’t get a moment’s rest.
NEL: Ooh, yeah, what about that – what was that like?
BS: It really wasn’t that big of a deal. I mean, it’s not like I’ve never kissed anyone before. I’ve kissed plenty of people, just never a washed up pop icon trying to latch on to whatever shred of mainstream popularity she can get a hold of.
NEL: Yeah, that was pretty pathetic.
BS: I mean, don’t get me wrong – I love Madonna and what she’s done for all of us as female pop icons/sex symbols. But, let’s be honest, it really was sad. I mean, she came up to me literally minutes before we were supposed to go on, and was all like, “Oh, Britney please do this with me. Just think of all the press we’ll get for it. We can be the biggest story ever. We’ll be huge.” And, I’m all like, “Whatever, grandma – I don’t know what this ‘we’ crap is. I’m already huge, I don’t need to make out with your old ass to be a big hit.” After a while, I just started to feel bad for her, so I said yes just to get her to stop bugging me.
NEL: Man, that really is pathetic. But it was still hot.
BS: Eh – truthfully, Hon, it didn’t do anything for me.
NEL: Yeah, that’s understandable. I can only imagine what she must smell like. I just get the impression that she really reeks. Don’t ask me why, I just do.
BS: You’re not far off with that.
NEL: Besides, I think most everyone would have much rather seen you kiss Christina anyhow. That would have really blown people’s minds.
BS: That’s the thing that kills me about this whole issue. It’s not like I was the only one there, you know. Christina was there and she kissed Madonna too, but you’d never know it because the cameramen at the VMA’s were too concerned with Justin’s reaction to me, rather than shooting her. I mean – what the hell is THAT about?
NEL: I don’t think you’ll find too many people disagreeing with that sentiment. I’m surprised someone didn’t lose their job over that one. Lord knows if I were in charge over there, heads would’ve rolled.
BS: Truthfully, I would have rather kissed Christina anyhow. She is just so hot, don’t you think?
NEL: Well, I don’t want My Baby’s Mama beating me, so I’m going to respectfully decline that one. Suffice it to say, I think you’ve just helped a good portion of the male population between the ages of 13-16 sleep much, much better tonight with that one.
BS (blushing): Oh, stop that. You’re embarrassing me.
NEL: Oh come on, now – what do you think all those boys are doing with those calendars? Astronomy homework?
BS: Truthfully, I try not to think about it.
NEL: I don’t blame you – that’s pretty sick. So, anyhow – what’s next for you? You’ve climbed the top of the pop charts, made fans of millions of teeny-boppers and oversexed young men, starred in a movie that approximately 16 people went to see, made out with a washed up old hag with a Peter Pan complex and had a quickie Vegas marriage annulled faster than most people take to purchase a car. How can you possibly top any of that?
BS: Well, that’s a really good question. Honestly, part of me wants to stay out of the spotlight and keep my personal life separate from my business life, but I’ve found that anytime I’m away from a camera for more than 36 to 48 hours, I start to get this really weird twitch. At first I just thought it was nerves or from not drinking, so I started drinking more. However, when I was getting hammered and still getting that twitch, I started to worry. Then, one night someone came over and asked to get a picture with me and all of a sudden, the twitching stopped. Sure enough, the next time the twitching started, I went up to a fan to see if she wanted get a picture taken with me – but she got all freaked out so I had to wait until a group of teenage boys came by – but sure enough, we took the picture and the twitching stopped again.
NEL: Wow. That’s just fascinating.
BS: I know, isn’t it? So, now I just keep a portable camera with me in case the twitching starts. Sometimes I scare people, coming at them, twitching like crazy and asking them to take pictures with me, so I usually try to find teenaged boys. They could care less about the twitching – especially if I’m wearing a low-cut blouse.
NEL: Yup, they sure are a resilient bunch.
BS: But, still I’d really like to take some time off and just be Britney. No touring, no video shoots, no paparazzi . . . well, maybe one, just so I don’t have to keep buying these portable cameras all the time – just me and my friends – hanging out, drinking, partying and having a good old time, just relaxing on a beach somewhere.
NEL: Sounds like a major scene.
BS: Well, you know how it is . . . all work and no play makes Brit a dull girl.
NEL: So I’ve heard.
BS: So – you sure you don’t want to take me up on my offer?
NEL: Really, Britney – I appreciate it, but I just can’t. It just wouldn’t look right.
BS: Well, like I said – the offer is always open.
NEL: Thanks. You’re a doll.
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