Skip to content

“I’m Beatboxing as Fast as I Can!”

“This is so much better than school,” I told my momafter our first rehearsal.It was true. At school, I alwayshad to think for myself. Nobody gave me the answers to any of thetests.At the Mouse Club, all you had to do was followdirections. “Dance this way, Justin.”“Hitthat mark, then say the funny joke, Justin. Now, shrug yourshoulders like you don’t know that what you just said was tooclever for a little kid to say.”“What’sthat in your pants, Justin? Cover that thing up, or we’regonna have to separate you and Christina.”I lovedit!I remember having lunch with Britney after a taping. Shekept hogging all the french fries, but I let her ’cause shewas fine. I wasn’t that hungry anyway ’cause ofthe Ritalin they put in everything.I said, “Isn’tthis great, Pinky? I hope this lasts forever.And if not, Ihope some day a morbidly obese Svengali will take over for Mickeyand mold me into a pop automaton.”And she said,“Yeah, I know what you mean.It’ll be much more ofa media-captivating event when we finally rebel against ourdomineering puppet masters and say ‘Lookit, I’mindependent, y’all.’”Then I totally got tothird base.

Things looked good from the outside. Lou was gone, and we were holding our own against those Backstreet bitches.But I felt trapped.It was like that cartoon lightbulb?What’s the, like, real word for that? It just turned on over my head!We were doing another dance rehearsal-in costume, ’cause some of us couldn’t nail the moves in our lame, ice-blue train-conductor outfits.So we’re practicing the “Bye Bye Bye” hand-wave/spin combo, and when we go into the “choo choo” in-and-out thing, I put my hand on Lance’s waist, and I’m waiting for Joey to grab mine and thrust, but it’s like…no grab.I see him go down.He’s just not limber. Never was.Anyway, he grabbed my jock with his big sweaty hands, and I was like, “Lightbulb! Synchronized dancing with other boys is super gay.”How come I didn’t realize that before?Damn!I watched him flop around on the floor like he was having another heart attack, and Lance started crying ’cause he’s like that.JC tried to help him up, but he couldn’t do it alone, and Chris started fixing his hair-like that’s gonna help!I knew this would be the last time we did any of Wade’s moves together.You know how you just know?I said to myself, “J, you need new moves, dawg.Straight moves.”Straight up.Next day, I shaved my head and called Pharrell.Next day!

I’m haunted by this one memory of Michael Jackson.This was, like, before Celebrity dropped.I got invited to Neverland and brought Britney, but found myself alone with M.J.We were eating jellybeans out of this big bowl-the fancy ones that taste like chicken and waffles and lobster and Rohypnol. And I said to him, “Yo, King, how did you write all those songs back in the day?Like, where did ‘Billie Jean’ come from?” He turned to me and whispered, “They came from God.”Later, I thought, “Maybe God isn’t the only way to be inspired to write songs. Maybe I have to get my heart ripped out and stepped on by my drunk-ass, chain-smoking, just-discovered-her-own-kitty-tricks-after-I-popped-it-open-for-her girlfriend!” And the rest-as they say-is Grammy gold, yo.

I was still on the rebound when I met Cameron.I was a little lost. Doing crazy shit like going onstage dressed as a dolphin with the guys from 90210.Makin’ Alyssa Milano scream “You the boss! You the boss!” while I was hittin’ it.But mostly, you know, just lost in, like, an existentialism full of ill shit. Anyway, I showed up at this party one night, just looking to maybe smoke out with some black people or whatever, and she was with her whole crew. She was just clocking me, like, really intensely.I was with my homeboy Trace, sure, but what could he really do if things got, like, seriously on?Lucy Liu was there, and she knows kung fu and shit, so I’m wondering, like, “Is this about to go down?” Then Cameron and her people start steppin’.We’re looking at each other, face to face.And I said, “We gonna fight?”I think my voice broke a little.She stared at me and shook her head. I’m like, “What’s she want, then?” The DJ threw on “Like I Love You,” and she started shaking her ass, but, like, not moving her eyes, which are still totally on me.I’m thinking, “Damn, is the girl from Something About Mary challenging me to a dance-off?”Turns out she didn’t wanna dance.She wanted some of this.Girl had a hungerin’ for some Timbersnake. She wanted me to clear her leaves with my Timberrake. She wanted to throw her clam on my Timberbake. Hey, I got a million of ’em.

“Wardrobe malfunction.” That’s gonna haunt me. Like dancing with boys haunts me. Look, it was the first thing that came into my head. Actually, it was the second. I can’t front. The first thing was “titty mishap,” but I checked that quick. Truth is, during rehearsal I had a flap over my trousers, too. J.J. was supposed to yank me open next, for all America to peep. I was down ’cause I’m proud of it, but my manager nixed the idea. I was like, “But what about the whole creating-a-scandal-that-will-be-debated-on-24-hour-cable-news-as-though-it-were-a-homeland-security-issue thing?” And he was like, “We can accomplish the same with just the booby reveal. Then you can plead ignorance and sympathize with the outraged moralists.” And I was like, “All right, bet.”

*Justin didn’t write any of this. None of the above events actually happened. We made it all up. Used our imagination when we were alone in our room.You know, like fan fiction.