Hellooooo everyone out there in wireless-land who can't read this because I'm - keeping - this - all - to - myself - but - would - probably - be - embarrassed - if anyone-came-across-it- .. land! I guess I'm doing this just in case I get Alzheimer's and/or amnesia some day and forget who I am. Then again, how will I remember to check this?

Note to self: Check private D.I Wireless message.

Ha, that should do it. Where was I? Oh, right. My name is Aiden, Aiden Sharpe. But you can just call me `Van` since I can't even remember the last time someone actually called me Aiden. How'd I get the name, you ask? I was conceived in a van. What?! It's there truth! I could've glamorized it up a bit, but it's the honest truth. Ever since I can remember, my dad's always been calling me `Van.` I just thank the Gods I wasn't conceived in an igloo or something.

By the way, my dad is Dallas Sharpe, Hollywood talent agent extraordinaire. He likes it when you say that, his ego tends to enter the room a half hour before he does. He was an alright dad, I guess. If you like being beaten and neglected. No, I'm kidding, it wasn't like that at all. I'd still be a virgin if it wasn't for him. Hey! It's not like THAT either. It was just a year ago, he was like, ``Van, the average penis is six inches long. The average vagina is eight inches deep. There's about six miles of unused vagina in Los Angeles and I'm gonna get you some.``

Unfortunately he hooked me up with a woman who's vagoo has seen more action than a soldier in World War II. I think she fought in that war, too. He took me to the back of the Popeyes on Montgomery where this gigantic German woman was waiting. ``This is Naomi. That's 'I-Moan' backwards. She makes chicken by day and chokes 'em by night.`` That's when he left and I was just staring at this woman who was about five inches taller than me and about three hundred pounds heavier. ``I zee yoo ahrr vurginn. Zat's okay. I vill fakk yoo.``

She grabs me and throws me on the fryer then touches my thing. And this was the first time someone other than myself ever TOUCHED my thing. So it was freaking out. Before I knew it, she was butt naked and she grabbed my hand and put it on her little vertical smile. Frankenstein looked like Mister Universe when compared to that .. thing. And then she says to me, ``It'z like a flowerrrrrr. You hav' to unravel it.``

Needless to say, I didn't even want to look at my penis for six months.

Until pornstar extraordinaire Juliet Cavalieri came along. She's a client of my dad's. Whoooooo, boy, did she do things to me that -- okay, look, that's all a lie. From the time that German woman touched me I ran like hell, and Juliet and I are just 'good friends.' Just don't let my dad know that. God knows how I got to nineteen without le grande sexual intercourse. I guess they didn't call me `Strikeout` at Liberty High just because I sucked at baseball. And every other contact sport. And Sudoku. I hate Sudoku.

My mom is Aubrey Cross, she's a photographer living out in L.A. She's done some big things, but a photographer's work is barely ever memorable. Dad and her were divorced for as long as I can remember so it's not like I'm all emo and broken up about it. I have a brother, Mason Cross -- who's ACTUALLY my brother and not a half-sibling or raised by someone else like half my friends are. Which only makes us slightly dysfunctional. I got dad's last name because I popped out before they were married and Mason got mom's last name because they just forgot to change it or something. .. Okay, I made that up too. Truth is, I really don't know WHY we do, we just do. I haven't seen Mason in about nine or ten years though. I talk to him once in a while though, just to catch up. I usually prefer to hang up before he gets into his crazy science talk.

I'm a lot closer to Betty than anything. That's my dad's new wife. I've been living with her since I was twelve old. Don't get me wrong, I talk to my real mother more than I speak to Mason, but she's not here, you know? It's just circumstance which I don't really blame. With dad out in L.A most of the time, or even at the office in Manhattan, it's usually just me and Betty.

Then there's the Alliance Academy. I'm on my first year, I spent a year after high school to try and travel the world. I got as far as Pittsburgh before I turned around and headed back home. A.A [not that A.A ..] is prettttttty radtacular though. It's where I met the love of my life, ___ _____. Actually I didn't really meet her. I know she's there, I just haven't really brought myself to approaching her yet. But every day I get just a little closer. HOW close I get really depends on how close she is to a bush or a light pole or something I can hide behind [or in -- a'la garbage can. .. I don't think I'll be doing that one again any time soon.] I have a feeling dad won't like her too much, though. You know, on account of her being bl-- onde. Wait, what'd you think I was gonna say? You're a filthy racist.

Let's keep that `stalking` thing under wraps too while we're at it. She doesn't need to know that. She also doesn't need to know that like to sneak in through her window when she's not home and roll around in her sheets. I .. probably shouldn't have said that.

I guess that's about it for now. Tune in next time for stories about my life of insecurities and paralyzing self doubt!

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