Some pray to God for guidance. Others seek the advice of licensed professionals. When a friend assumed an editorial post at the teen chat site eCRUSH, I learned that kids will put their trust in a complete stranger when it comes to matters of the heart. Though my Wonder Years were decades behind me, I had to fire off a few cries for help of my own. Editor Paul Pearson proved to be as insightful as Dr. Phil, until he realized he was being pranked.
Dear eCRUSH:
I'm just 16 and sort of new to the dating scene. I mean, I just got my driver's license. (Thanks. Yeah, it's pretty great.) So I may not be aware of, like, all the details of how these things go. But this I do know: Under no circumstances are you supposed to wind up driving your date and her drunken, 40-year-old boyfriend to the cock fights in Mexico at 1 a.m.
It was, like, the worst night of my life, eCRUSH, and exactly the thing my mother warned me against. (She used to be one of those babes who walk around the ring holding up the card that says "Round Quatro" or whatever.) For sure, it's delivered pizza and in-room cable porn for me from now on.
Hey, can I do a shout out to Clint W. and Rusty Z. from San Marino? Hey, guys, peace. Totally stay away from Christy K.
Davey O., Pasadena, Calif.
Davey, I'm crackin' up over here. Details, man, I want details! Just in case you go on a date with this magnitude of badness again, bring a notebook. You're just 15 minutes away from Hollywood and we need fresh scripts. I guarantee you that an after-hours cockfight in Mexico with a teenage babe and boozin' guy old enough to be her daddy is primo pitch material.
Your shout-out to San Marino is noted. By the way, did you know it's illegal to park your car in your driveway for more than 2 hours in San Marino? It's the most ridiculously regulated city in the United States, and weirdly enough it's mostly made up of Republicans, who usually prattle on about less government regulation. You crazy kids. – eC
Your shout-out to San Marino is noted. By the way, did you know it's illegal to park your car in your driveway for more than 2 hours in San Marino? It's the most ridiculously regulated city in the United States, and weirdly enough it's mostly made up of Republicans, who usually prattle on about less government regulation. You crazy kids. – eC
Dear eCRUSH:
I hate to bother you, eCRUSH, but I don't know where else to turn. I mean, I'd call Dr. Drew or Adam, but those guys are so bitter anymore. And, frankly, I hate it when they bet on callers like me, laying odds as to just how messed up I am. How messed up is that? Forget them, man.
See, eCRUSH, I'm going on a date tonight, and I'm totally afraid it might just be my last night on Earth.
OK, first off, I'm just 16, but I already know that the hottest chicks are the incarcerated ones. I used to be into all that moralistic wrestling, back and forth: Should I do it with this chick, should I not -- you know, like they do on "Dawson's Creek" and stuff?
But then, when I was visiting my mom in prison last weekend, I met this other inmate, her friend Marge. She took me into the towel room, where the big dryers are, and it was goodbye, "Dawson's," hello, Spice Channel.
"Should we be doing this?" I screamed above the roar of the machinery. Even though her ears were blown off in a botched heist, I saw her horribly burned lips twist into a smile. She jammed some crusty linen into my mouth and hissed, "Shut up, Acne Boy. Give us a little kiss, already."
Well, eCRUSH, I'm going back tonight, as Marge's conjugal visit night is Friday. And while I'm definitely going to get some, as she likes to say, I'm also getting worried. See, she told me to bring semi-automatic weapons and rappelling gear. It's glorious to die for love and stuff on the WB. But don't people get killed in prison breaks?
This is the question I'm wrestling with now. My God, eCRUSH, what price love?
See, eCRUSH, I'm going on a date tonight, and I'm totally afraid it might just be my last night on Earth.
OK, first off, I'm just 16, but I already know that the hottest chicks are the incarcerated ones. I used to be into all that moralistic wrestling, back and forth: Should I do it with this chick, should I not -- you know, like they do on "Dawson's Creek" and stuff?
But then, when I was visiting my mom in prison last weekend, I met this other inmate, her friend Marge. She took me into the towel room, where the big dryers are, and it was goodbye, "Dawson's," hello, Spice Channel.
"Should we be doing this?" I screamed above the roar of the machinery. Even though her ears were blown off in a botched heist, I saw her horribly burned lips twist into a smile. She jammed some crusty linen into my mouth and hissed, "Shut up, Acne Boy. Give us a little kiss, already."
Well, eCRUSH, I'm going back tonight, as Marge's conjugal visit night is Friday. And while I'm definitely going to get some, as she likes to say, I'm also getting worried. See, she told me to bring semi-automatic weapons and rappelling gear. It's glorious to die for love and stuff on the WB. But don't people get killed in prison breaks?
This is the question I'm wrestling with now. My God, eCRUSH, what price love?
Davey O., Pasadena, Calif.
If all the prank letters we got were this good, I wouldn't even bother to read the real-life ones... -- eC
brilliant.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sparrow4Captain. I loved your most recent contributions to Stressed Syllables. "The Corporate Jungle" appeared on Jan. 10, 2011. You posted "The Filthy, Thieving Relatives Move In" on Dec. 17, 2010. Your view into Los Angeles' entertainment industry is a fascinating -- and disturbing -- one.
ReplyDelete