I am reposting this because I got banned with my
other name, who knew you couldn't post multiple things in
one minute?!
So enjoy and please leave feedback!! Pweaseeee!!
,
Lynn
----------
SUMMARY: These are the memoirs of Amanda and Justin. The events that occurred during their life-long friendship will be retold. What happened when Justin realized he couldn't live a lie anymore? When being just the 'homeboy' wasn't enough. Come experience the laughter, the tears, the lies, the truths, the heartache, THE FRIENDSHIP. The Homeboy's Memoirs.
*********************************
INTERLUDE (INTRO)
Do you ever get the feeling that someone is watching you? That someone, out there, is writing the chapters of your life, catching you by surprise every step of the way?
I’ve felt that way for quiet sometime, more so this past year.
Last year I was on top of the world. I couldn’t fathom the thought of feeling the way I feel at this present time. I would have laughed hysterically if you would’ve told me that everything that occurred this past year was to be MY life.
I was content with my life, not to say that I’m not content now, but I thought I have everything I needed in life at the time. I had the two best-est friends a girl could ever want. I had a wonderful, caring and not to mention gorgeous boyfriend. And most importantly, I finally let my best friend convince me into recording an album. He promised to make me a star and for the record, he did. Somewhat.
I was lucky enough to know certain people and had gotten a record deal in a ridiculous manner. Over the phone. Although I know that while I can sing, like there is no tomorrow, I have my best friend, Justin, to thank for my “luck”.
Yes, Justin Timberlake, ladies and gentlemen, is one of my best friends in the world. Now, before you go all ballistic and start drooling over the above named. Let me just tell you that Justin Timberlake might be to you, a sex symbol, a God, perhaps the man of your dreams but to me he’s an arrogant, big headed…
Hold up!!
I’m not liking where this is headed, not one bit. Don’t let her change your personal opinions of me because…
Don’t you think you should introduce yourself, dumbass?
You know, I’m really starting to reconsider this whole thing. Do you see how she treats me? Just because she knows that I ….
Is that your way of introducing yourself?
I wasn’t done talking, besides I didn’t hear you introduce yourself either, Jojo.
If you would just sit down and keep you mouth shut, just long enough for me to tell these people who I am, maybe I would. Now shut up!!
Seriously, do you see what I mean about the way she treats me? I’m going to shut up now, not because she told me to but because the Lakers are on and I need to watch the game.
There is a God!! I swear he can be such an…
Oh by the way, in case you didn’t figure it out already. I’m Justin. We’ll be talking later, I’m sure. That is if she shuts her trap long enough. I better go because right now she’s giving me the infamous stare and to be honest, it’s scary. Bye!!
Anyway, back to what I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. What was I saying? Oh yeah, I was going to tell you about how Justin Timberlake, the so-called pop icon, isn’t right in the head. I was going to tell you how he managed to turn my life upside down and then when he was done with that, he did it again.
Remember that person I mentioned at the beginning of our conversation? The one that writes the chapters in our lives? My life is written by an alter ego of sorts, my live conscience, my guardian angel, perhaps. Her name is Lynn and because I trust her with my life, I’m going to let her tell you all about my life and more specifically this past year.
So on to Track One (Justin’s idea. He says my life is a soundtrack)
Oh wait.
I get caught up sometimes and forget things. You can blame that entirely on my best friend, who is lying on the sofa, bare-chested (my reason for getting caught up) staring intently at the basketball game on his sixty-three inch television.
What was I saying? Oh, Justin was right. (For once). I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Amanda Reyes, new artist of Jive Records.
Okay Lynn, go ahead. Do your thang, girl!!
----
Track One (Breezy)
1988
It was one of those rare days in the south when instead of the scorching sun beaming on your back, you found yourself enjoying a beautiful breezy afternoon.
Living in a small town outside of Memphis, Tennessee only meant one thing. Everyone knew everyone’s business. It meant your mother was a best friend with your best friends’ mother. The mailman was also the local mechanic and your doctor doubled as your gym teacher who also owned the local flower shop.
That was Shelby Forest to it’s gloried extent.
When the news came that a new family was moving into the Meyer house that had been put on sale two years prior, it only took two full days for the entire town to know about it.
It was mid April and the news of a new family coming to town was the biggest topic in town since Mrs. Meyer caught Mr. Meyer in bed with her niece, two years earlier.
The local realtor, who coincidently was the local beautician, had gone to Shelby Forest General Store with the news of her sale. A new family of the name Owens was coming to town.
The news traveled at the speed of light and by lunchtime on the second day, everyone but the men too busy fishing, knew about the family.
The anticipation for the arrival was intense but on that beautiful breezy day the time finally came. The big over-sized, yellow moving truck pulled up alongside the Meyer’s old house.
Two boys and a little girl stood under a tree, taking the moving event in. The blue tag on the yellow truck, that hauled a new state-of-the-art Ford station wagon, read New York.
The ‘new people’ were without a doubt from New York, like the rumors indicated.
Silently the three kids stood across the street watching ‘the people’ as if it was the most amazing display of human activity they’d ever seen. Perhaps at that moment in time it had been just that. Amazing.
“They sure do have a lot of stuff.” Justin was the first to break the silence. With his long frame he stood at least a foot taller than the other two standing next to him.
“Sure looks it,” the other boy added.
“Shh, be quiet.” The little girl ordered, bringing her dirt-encrusted finger to her lips.
“Eww, Amanda. Get your hands away from your mouth.” Justin cringed.
“Go talk to him, Manda.” The shorter of the two boys said for the hundredth time since the moving truck had parked.
“You go talk to him, dirtball.” She retorted.
“You go. And you’re the one that’s dirtier than us. Aunt Lily is going to have a cow.” he replied.
“Why do I have to go? It’s a boy. You’re supposed to talk to him first.” Amanda whined.
“You lost, Amanda. You gotta do it.” Justin reminded her once again that day. A simple game of ‘rock, paper, scissor’ had been her downfall.
The ‘new people’ turned out to have a son their age. According to the rumor mill, the little boy had just turned seven, the previous month.
The little girl eventually did cross the street that day. And the little boy that had been playing with a football across the street was Jeremy Owens.
------
Breezy (Remix # 1)
I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was wearing jean shorts and a purple tank top that I loved, and my mother hated.
I remember thinking that I knew what my life plan was. At the very tender age of seven, we had our whole lives planned out.
I was going to own a championship woman’s NBA team. That had been my life goal back then. Ambitious little thing, wasn’t I?
My cousin, Juan (whom I can’t believe Lynn went there and described as ‘the shorter one’) simply wanted to be tall. I’m not kidding either. His goal in life was to grow tall and muscular. Neither one of those goal have been accomplished as of yet just like I don’t own a WNBA team either.
Our friend Justin at that particular stage of our lives had only one goal in mind. His goal that summer was to speak Spanish. It was his ambition to be able to understand my mother and Titi yell at Juan and I for being late for dinner, one too many times.
Juan and I attempted to help out friend out with his ‘goal’ but failed miserably. You should have heard the garbage (there are no other words to describe the butchering of the Spanish language that Justin did) that came out of Justin’s mouth. He was a far cry from properly rolling his r’s. I think he’s still working on it. (i.e. hooking up with Cameron Diaz. I tried to explain to him that she wouldn’t be any help; her daddy speaks Spanish, not her. He doesn’t listen.)
Every morning for an entire school year, I remember Juan and I had to sit through Sesame Street episodes so that Justin learned his word for the day. It’s kind of hysterical to think about it now, but Juan and I were annoyed.
Amazingly something good did come out of his goal reaching that summer. He began calling Juan, Tres. (That was the number for the day on Sesame Street.)
My cousin had been so annoyed with Justin he threatened to not speak to him for the rest of the day. That was huge day in our lives. (I can’t believe I still remember this.) I think that was the first time I ever saw Justin cry. He’d been devastated, I was too. What was I going to do if my two sidekicks never spoke again? My heart squeezes tight at that memory.
Eventually (two hours later) Juan couldn’t stand the separation anxiety and came to his senses. Justin insisted that it was cool that Juan was the third family member with the name, Juan.
I’m not exactly sure how everyone started calling Juan, Trace but if you call Trace anything but that, he flips out. Go figure.
Till this day I don’t think Trace knows that Justin cried. Neither one of them speaks of it. Justin and Trace’s weakness became my strength and I think it’s vice-versa although I won’t go without saying that those two are complete ass-wipes toward me, most of the time.
Back to what I was saying. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. It was mid April on our first day off school for spring break when we saw the truck pull up.
I still remember my first conversation with Jeremy Owens. I remember the exact words we spoke to each other. I remember every detail about that day and I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic when I say this but my life started when I met him. I thought it did, at least.
My first thought on Jeremy Owens? Dreamy.
I remember thinking he was the cutest boy in out school. His dark hair and eyes were what I pictured Prince Charming’s to be like. Those memories I will treasure forever.
He became my first crush. My first kiss. My first boyfriend. My first everything. Thinking back now, even then, I knew that he’d be a huge part of my life. From the first words spoken to the moment I came to terms with my true feelings for him.
Ohh, before I cut this short, because we have a lot to cover, I want to say that I believe ‘rock, paper, scissor’ is a conspiracy.
-------
Breezy (Remix #2)
My first everything? Prince Charming? Blah. Blah. Blah.
I’m not even sure why she has decided to start this whole thing with how we met Jeremy Owens. What about starting this thing with important details? Like the fact that Trace is indeed short but that she’s shorter than him which makes him taller. So he did reach his goal. But Amanda wouldn’t tell you that, now would she?
Here’s another important detail. How about the fact that she and I have the same birthday? She always tries to skip over everything; she’s done it all her life. She wanted to own an NBA team and yet she always refused to play basketball with me. Go figure on that.
To my defense, let me tell you a few things. First, the Cameron comment? (She thinks I can’t see that she places those comments in parenthesis but I can do the same thing. See?) I didn’t hook up with Cameron for the Spanish speaking abilities or lack thereof. I hooked up with her cause she was hot. Still is, in my opinion.
Secondly, I am a country-ass white boy from Tennessee. Why would I be a natural at rolling my r’s? (Sometimes I question her intelligence.)
Being that she started this thing (I don’t even know what to call it) about Jeremy Owens, I have no choice but to pick up where she left off, more or less.
It’s true that growing up (some more than others) in Shelby Forest didn’t bring much excitement to our lives. And yes it’s hard to admit till this day that when the truck pulled up right across the street from my house, it was exciting, for lack of a better word.
Amanda, Trace and I always made the best out of Shelby Forest, though, still do. You know why? Because Shelby Forest is the @#%$. (Had to throw that in there)
If it rained, we were forced to play inside. We had two whole options, my house or the Ayala-Reyes house, two doors down. That had been the extent of our problems throughout our young years.
We spent the summers of our elementary years doing what kids our age did. Play. Of course we had an addition to our little group, April of 1988. You guest it. Jeremy Owens, the New Yorker.
I can’t deny that Jeremy and I became good friends. (Not friends like Trace and I were, but friends nonetheless) We both loved basketball, football and video games. I liked a lot of things that he liked and he wanted, I mean liked, everything I liked. @#%$.
Jeremy wasn’t always with us; (Amanda, Trace and I only spent nine hours without contact a day. Dinner. Sleeping.) But on the occasions when Jeremy’s parents would remove the stick out of their asses, Jeremy could come out and play with us.
Our mothers taxied us around for those years. We were good kids, we didn’t cause any trouble. Except that one time that Jeremy, Trace and I threw marbles at Mr. Robinson’s (mean old guy in town) window. We tried blaming the whole thing on Amanda but she was at the dentist at the time. My mother didn’t buy it. I got a spanking that day, that the memory of, makes my butt hurt. I don’t know what happened to Trace or Jeremy and their mother’s but if something made you cry, as a man, you don’t discuss that with each other. It’s a rule.
Other than the occasional little rascal’s stunts we used to pull, we were pretty normal.
Two guys and a girl. Ohh and I guess, Jeremy too. (I can’t forget about ‘her everything’) Normal.
For the record ‘rock, paper, scissor’ is not a conspiracy that Trace and I came up with. Scissors always cuts the paper, rock smashed the scissors and paper covers the rock. Those are the rules. You lost. Or won. Or lost. Oh, never mind. I lost in the long run anyway.
So enjoy and please leave feedback!! Pweaseeee!!
,
Lynn----------
SUMMARY: These are the memoirs of Amanda and Justin. The events that occurred during their life-long friendship will be retold. What happened when Justin realized he couldn't live a lie anymore? When being just the 'homeboy' wasn't enough. Come experience the laughter, the tears, the lies, the truths, the heartache, THE FRIENDSHIP. The Homeboy's Memoirs.
*********************************
INTERLUDE (INTRO)
Do you ever get the feeling that someone is watching you? That someone, out there, is writing the chapters of your life, catching you by surprise every step of the way?
I’ve felt that way for quiet sometime, more so this past year.
Last year I was on top of the world. I couldn’t fathom the thought of feeling the way I feel at this present time. I would have laughed hysterically if you would’ve told me that everything that occurred this past year was to be MY life.
I was content with my life, not to say that I’m not content now, but I thought I have everything I needed in life at the time. I had the two best-est friends a girl could ever want. I had a wonderful, caring and not to mention gorgeous boyfriend. And most importantly, I finally let my best friend convince me into recording an album. He promised to make me a star and for the record, he did. Somewhat.
I was lucky enough to know certain people and had gotten a record deal in a ridiculous manner. Over the phone. Although I know that while I can sing, like there is no tomorrow, I have my best friend, Justin, to thank for my “luck”.
Yes, Justin Timberlake, ladies and gentlemen, is one of my best friends in the world. Now, before you go all ballistic and start drooling over the above named. Let me just tell you that Justin Timberlake might be to you, a sex symbol, a God, perhaps the man of your dreams but to me he’s an arrogant, big headed…
Hold up!!
I’m not liking where this is headed, not one bit. Don’t let her change your personal opinions of me because…
Don’t you think you should introduce yourself, dumbass?
You know, I’m really starting to reconsider this whole thing. Do you see how she treats me? Just because she knows that I ….
Is that your way of introducing yourself?
I wasn’t done talking, besides I didn’t hear you introduce yourself either, Jojo.
If you would just sit down and keep you mouth shut, just long enough for me to tell these people who I am, maybe I would. Now shut up!!
Seriously, do you see what I mean about the way she treats me? I’m going to shut up now, not because she told me to but because the Lakers are on and I need to watch the game.
There is a God!! I swear he can be such an…
Oh by the way, in case you didn’t figure it out already. I’m Justin. We’ll be talking later, I’m sure. That is if she shuts her trap long enough. I better go because right now she’s giving me the infamous stare and to be honest, it’s scary. Bye!!
Anyway, back to what I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. What was I saying? Oh yeah, I was going to tell you about how Justin Timberlake, the so-called pop icon, isn’t right in the head. I was going to tell you how he managed to turn my life upside down and then when he was done with that, he did it again.
Remember that person I mentioned at the beginning of our conversation? The one that writes the chapters in our lives? My life is written by an alter ego of sorts, my live conscience, my guardian angel, perhaps. Her name is Lynn and because I trust her with my life, I’m going to let her tell you all about my life and more specifically this past year.
So on to Track One (Justin’s idea. He says my life is a soundtrack)
Oh wait.
I get caught up sometimes and forget things. You can blame that entirely on my best friend, who is lying on the sofa, bare-chested (my reason for getting caught up) staring intently at the basketball game on his sixty-three inch television.
What was I saying? Oh, Justin was right. (For once). I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Amanda Reyes, new artist of Jive Records.
Okay Lynn, go ahead. Do your thang, girl!!
----
Track One (Breezy)
1988
It was one of those rare days in the south when instead of the scorching sun beaming on your back, you found yourself enjoying a beautiful breezy afternoon.
Living in a small town outside of Memphis, Tennessee only meant one thing. Everyone knew everyone’s business. It meant your mother was a best friend with your best friends’ mother. The mailman was also the local mechanic and your doctor doubled as your gym teacher who also owned the local flower shop.
That was Shelby Forest to it’s gloried extent.
When the news came that a new family was moving into the Meyer house that had been put on sale two years prior, it only took two full days for the entire town to know about it.
It was mid April and the news of a new family coming to town was the biggest topic in town since Mrs. Meyer caught Mr. Meyer in bed with her niece, two years earlier.
The local realtor, who coincidently was the local beautician, had gone to Shelby Forest General Store with the news of her sale. A new family of the name Owens was coming to town.
The news traveled at the speed of light and by lunchtime on the second day, everyone but the men too busy fishing, knew about the family.
The anticipation for the arrival was intense but on that beautiful breezy day the time finally came. The big over-sized, yellow moving truck pulled up alongside the Meyer’s old house.
Two boys and a little girl stood under a tree, taking the moving event in. The blue tag on the yellow truck, that hauled a new state-of-the-art Ford station wagon, read New York.
The ‘new people’ were without a doubt from New York, like the rumors indicated.
Silently the three kids stood across the street watching ‘the people’ as if it was the most amazing display of human activity they’d ever seen. Perhaps at that moment in time it had been just that. Amazing.
“They sure do have a lot of stuff.” Justin was the first to break the silence. With his long frame he stood at least a foot taller than the other two standing next to him.
“Sure looks it,” the other boy added.
“Shh, be quiet.” The little girl ordered, bringing her dirt-encrusted finger to her lips.
“Eww, Amanda. Get your hands away from your mouth.” Justin cringed.
“Go talk to him, Manda.” The shorter of the two boys said for the hundredth time since the moving truck had parked.
“You go talk to him, dirtball.” She retorted.
“You go. And you’re the one that’s dirtier than us. Aunt Lily is going to have a cow.” he replied.
“Why do I have to go? It’s a boy. You’re supposed to talk to him first.” Amanda whined.
“You lost, Amanda. You gotta do it.” Justin reminded her once again that day. A simple game of ‘rock, paper, scissor’ had been her downfall.
The ‘new people’ turned out to have a son their age. According to the rumor mill, the little boy had just turned seven, the previous month.
The little girl eventually did cross the street that day. And the little boy that had been playing with a football across the street was Jeremy Owens.
------
Breezy (Remix # 1)
I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was wearing jean shorts and a purple tank top that I loved, and my mother hated.
I remember thinking that I knew what my life plan was. At the very tender age of seven, we had our whole lives planned out.
I was going to own a championship woman’s NBA team. That had been my life goal back then. Ambitious little thing, wasn’t I?
My cousin, Juan (whom I can’t believe Lynn went there and described as ‘the shorter one’) simply wanted to be tall. I’m not kidding either. His goal in life was to grow tall and muscular. Neither one of those goal have been accomplished as of yet just like I don’t own a WNBA team either.
Our friend Justin at that particular stage of our lives had only one goal in mind. His goal that summer was to speak Spanish. It was his ambition to be able to understand my mother and Titi yell at Juan and I for being late for dinner, one too many times.
Juan and I attempted to help out friend out with his ‘goal’ but failed miserably. You should have heard the garbage (there are no other words to describe the butchering of the Spanish language that Justin did) that came out of Justin’s mouth. He was a far cry from properly rolling his r’s. I think he’s still working on it. (i.e. hooking up with Cameron Diaz. I tried to explain to him that she wouldn’t be any help; her daddy speaks Spanish, not her. He doesn’t listen.)
Every morning for an entire school year, I remember Juan and I had to sit through Sesame Street episodes so that Justin learned his word for the day. It’s kind of hysterical to think about it now, but Juan and I were annoyed.
Amazingly something good did come out of his goal reaching that summer. He began calling Juan, Tres. (That was the number for the day on Sesame Street.)
My cousin had been so annoyed with Justin he threatened to not speak to him for the rest of the day. That was huge day in our lives. (I can’t believe I still remember this.) I think that was the first time I ever saw Justin cry. He’d been devastated, I was too. What was I going to do if my two sidekicks never spoke again? My heart squeezes tight at that memory.
Eventually (two hours later) Juan couldn’t stand the separation anxiety and came to his senses. Justin insisted that it was cool that Juan was the third family member with the name, Juan.
I’m not exactly sure how everyone started calling Juan, Trace but if you call Trace anything but that, he flips out. Go figure.
Till this day I don’t think Trace knows that Justin cried. Neither one of them speaks of it. Justin and Trace’s weakness became my strength and I think it’s vice-versa although I won’t go without saying that those two are complete ass-wipes toward me, most of the time.
Back to what I was saying. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. It was mid April on our first day off school for spring break when we saw the truck pull up.
I still remember my first conversation with Jeremy Owens. I remember the exact words we spoke to each other. I remember every detail about that day and I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic when I say this but my life started when I met him. I thought it did, at least.
My first thought on Jeremy Owens? Dreamy.
I remember thinking he was the cutest boy in out school. His dark hair and eyes were what I pictured Prince Charming’s to be like. Those memories I will treasure forever.
He became my first crush. My first kiss. My first boyfriend. My first everything. Thinking back now, even then, I knew that he’d be a huge part of my life. From the first words spoken to the moment I came to terms with my true feelings for him.
Ohh, before I cut this short, because we have a lot to cover, I want to say that I believe ‘rock, paper, scissor’ is a conspiracy.
-------
Breezy (Remix #2)
My first everything? Prince Charming? Blah. Blah. Blah.
I’m not even sure why she has decided to start this whole thing with how we met Jeremy Owens. What about starting this thing with important details? Like the fact that Trace is indeed short but that she’s shorter than him which makes him taller. So he did reach his goal. But Amanda wouldn’t tell you that, now would she?
Here’s another important detail. How about the fact that she and I have the same birthday? She always tries to skip over everything; she’s done it all her life. She wanted to own an NBA team and yet she always refused to play basketball with me. Go figure on that.
To my defense, let me tell you a few things. First, the Cameron comment? (She thinks I can’t see that she places those comments in parenthesis but I can do the same thing. See?) I didn’t hook up with Cameron for the Spanish speaking abilities or lack thereof. I hooked up with her cause she was hot. Still is, in my opinion.
Secondly, I am a country-ass white boy from Tennessee. Why would I be a natural at rolling my r’s? (Sometimes I question her intelligence.)
Being that she started this thing (I don’t even know what to call it) about Jeremy Owens, I have no choice but to pick up where she left off, more or less.
It’s true that growing up (some more than others) in Shelby Forest didn’t bring much excitement to our lives. And yes it’s hard to admit till this day that when the truck pulled up right across the street from my house, it was exciting, for lack of a better word.
Amanda, Trace and I always made the best out of Shelby Forest, though, still do. You know why? Because Shelby Forest is the @#%$. (Had to throw that in there)
If it rained, we were forced to play inside. We had two whole options, my house or the Ayala-Reyes house, two doors down. That had been the extent of our problems throughout our young years.
We spent the summers of our elementary years doing what kids our age did. Play. Of course we had an addition to our little group, April of 1988. You guest it. Jeremy Owens, the New Yorker.
I can’t deny that Jeremy and I became good friends. (Not friends like Trace and I were, but friends nonetheless) We both loved basketball, football and video games. I liked a lot of things that he liked and he wanted, I mean liked, everything I liked. @#%$.
Jeremy wasn’t always with us; (Amanda, Trace and I only spent nine hours without contact a day. Dinner. Sleeping.) But on the occasions when Jeremy’s parents would remove the stick out of their asses, Jeremy could come out and play with us.
Our mothers taxied us around for those years. We were good kids, we didn’t cause any trouble. Except that one time that Jeremy, Trace and I threw marbles at Mr. Robinson’s (mean old guy in town) window. We tried blaming the whole thing on Amanda but she was at the dentist at the time. My mother didn’t buy it. I got a spanking that day, that the memory of, makes my butt hurt. I don’t know what happened to Trace or Jeremy and their mother’s but if something made you cry, as a man, you don’t discuss that with each other. It’s a rule.
Other than the occasional little rascal’s stunts we used to pull, we were pretty normal.
Two guys and a girl. Ohh and I guess, Jeremy too. (I can’t forget about ‘her everything’) Normal.
For the record ‘rock, paper, scissor’ is not a conspiracy that Trace and I came up with. Scissors always cuts the paper, rock smashed the scissors and paper covers the rock. Those are the rules. You lost. Or won. Or lost. Oh, never mind. I lost in the long run anyway.
i may have to re-read while i'm work to keep me from falling asleep! 
