From 1976-1978, I lived in a small town outside Athens, Greece. My dad worked for Caterpillar Tractor Co. and he had been sent overseas to brief mechanics in the army on the engine of a top secret project called the "Goer" (pronounced "go-err") It was called the Goer, because it could go anywhere. It was basically a tank that could go through sand, up the side of mountains, under water, etc.

Anyway...we lived in Greece and that's what we were doing there. Everyone always assumes my dad was in the Military and that wasn't the case. I wish my dad HAD been military. Because then you live on base with all the other Americans. My next door neighbor was some crazy Greek millionaire that we never saw.

And the Goer project was scrapped after a few years.

The End.

Not really the end. Here's the story:

I made several friends in Greece. My best friends were Matt and Mitch Bourg, two brothers from California. Matt was a year older than me and Mitch was a year younger than me, and the three of us hung out together constantly.

Eventually, Mitch's friend Greg began hanging around us too. Matt and I picked on Greg constantly because he was such a pretty boy. He was definitly not gay...the little bastard was dating girls 2-3 years older than him, which is quite an accomplishment for a 14-year old. These were girls that Matt and I had been scoping on for some time. Still, we would pick at him constantly. And I'll give the kid credit...he had the sassiest mouth. One night, during a sleepover, Matt and I were riding his ass hard because he was seeing Cheryl Jackola, who Matt had a crush on.

Greg finally stood up and said "I'd think you guys were jealous of all the women I'm getting, but then I remembered ... you're fags."

I thought that was one of the funniest things anyone had ever said to me at that point. I burst out laughing at the arrogant little shit. Matt wanted to kill him and chased him in their bathroom. He wouldn't come out for what seemed hours. Probably five minutes.

We used to have sleepovers at the Bourgs house, where Greg and I would spend the night all through the summer of '77. I remember distinctly one night, we put on Aerosmith's "Rocks" album and all played our air instruments. I remember saying that someday when we got a band together, we were all going to be big stars. Everyone agreed. We air jammed through the entire album. I was Steven Tyler, Matt and Mitch were Joe Perry and Tom Hamilton and Greg was Joey Kramer on the drums.

Since we didn't have a Brad Whitford, we had him killed.

Anyway ... for some reason I will never forget that night. I think when we were doing it, I got a premonition that this night would stay in my memory forever. Mainly because I was with good friends in a situation that you KNOW eventually somebody will move away.

That's how it is living overseas. You make great friends but then you're whisked away to another part of the world in a year.

...Fast forward about 12 years.

It's roughly 1990 and I'm flipping channels on the TV one night. I eventually land on this show "Best of the Worst" on Fox. All it is, is a bunch of really bad clips from really bad shows. The sorta shit I grew up on and loved. "Plan 9 From Outer Space" sorta crap.

But that show became my favorite show for a totally different reason on that evening.

Because the host of that show was a blast from my past.

Yep ... that kid Greg that I used to torment in Greece. Somehow he wound up hosting a show on Fox. It blew my mind.

It blew my mind even more when I was flipping channels a few years later and boom! There was Greg again. This time ... the sonofabitch was hosting a show called "Talk Soup."

Uh-huh.

Yep.

That's right.

That little sissy ass Greg Kinnear went and made himself a star.

...Just like he said he would.

I had no idea the dipshit was going to take me seriously.

And now you know...the REST of this stupid, boring assed story.

HEY YOU! I went and got me a Message Board. Sign it or die.

This site makes me feel slightly used and a bit frazzled.

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