Bananas go to law school, too!


I was thinking earlier today "What ever happened to [boy from junior high] who I was madly in love with him precisely when he wasn’t in love with me - and he, in love with me, when I thought him too gangly of a character with whom to ever associate myself. So, I did what any girl with wireless internet access would do - I googled his name.

THE MAN IS A RAPPER. This sings rap songs [the syntax in that last sentence clearly exposes me as a tool, agreed]. This boy, who cried after falling out of a tree (which, upon typing, seems not that ridiculous - but it was a small tree, and he, as previously mentioned, a tall boy). Complete with side-part-held-in-place-with-loads-of-gel. Yes, I had a maddening crush on this one - but I myself was plagued with bad hair and a propensity to cry in awkward situations. (The second one, hopefully only the second one, still true).

A rapper which was referred as "the next Eminem" by a newspaper in Illinois. The next Eminem, from Action Ridge, Illinois. Seriously. He clearly had to overcome the rough streets, the ones where the local police will escort you home if you’re out past 10PM and under 16 and the only place open after 9 is the 24-hour Dominick’s (supermarket) perilously close to the bordering town (i.e. DANGER).

So then Twinnie, as any good brother would do, found me a picture of him on the internet. A picture which cast doubt on the cowlick and highwater khakis dorkiness that I found so endearing back in the 7th grade. And this is why, as I have learned far too many times this year, you should never google anyone.