By Chelsey "Sex" SCJ2818@ocvaxa.cc.oberlin.edu
We arrived at 11:30- Jason was going to be racing his own little car in the wilds of northern Minnesota. And I was on an assignment from my local newspaper to track him down and get an exclusive. The drivers were supposed to hang out by their cars around 12 pm. We waited. 12 came, but no Mr. Hunky. 12:15 came, and no Jason. Finally, in comes his Toyota All-Trac-- and out steps some other guy, his co-driver.
"Jason's really tired," he said. "He's probably not going to make it." I have been stood up. Jerk.
My friend and I were so pissed we vowed to hate him forever. Rachel was even going to boycott 90210 but I quickly convinced her to at least watch the season premiere.
Jason finally did come to a restaurant in my town for a pit stop that evening When he got there he was really pissed because there were a hundred people there waiting to see him. I wrote in the paper that he would be coming to town that evening-- So in a way I was an individual target of his wrath which satisfies me enormously. He acted like a big old pissy rockstar (TVstar, whatever) and was a dick to everyone.
Here's what the interview would have been like if he had actually bothered to show up:
Jason: Wow! I'm sure glad I came all the way up to Minnesota!
I never did see him myself, but my editor sent me a big picture of him scowling in his car while trying to look sexy at the same time. I lost my big scoop, but he lost the race.
The Journal of Substance, Wit,and Dangerous Masturbatory Habits