WWWWD?

I admit it. I've had a long-standing crush on Wil Wheaton. And sometimes I read his blog. But it's rare. I am far more interested in how I can become friends with Lindsay Lohan and talk her off the ledge she's put herself on. (I really am concerned for the girl and completely agree with this and feel that far better than Kate Moss, I am oracle at who's feet she should be sitting. We're redheads! We're like kin! The only coke I've had is from a can!)

I digress.

Wil Wheaton and I have a long, storied, incredibly distant history. I was the lone girl swooning over him during "Stand By Me" (Phoenix was too broody and troubled). I was the only soul mooning over him during the "Next Generation" days (and the only girl who watched the show that I knew). I was the solitary Cor Jesu freshman who had his picture in her locker (take that, Johnny Depp!). I was the renegade who made her mother take her to see him at a personal appearance at Crestwood Mall (despite the fact that said mother was on a heart monitor for the near heart attack I had given her swimming out to dolphins in North Carolina [again, digression]).

Let's just be clear and state for the record that I thought he was cute and really wanted him to be my boyfriend. I imagine that back then that meant we'd make friendship bracelets for each other, listen to Oingo Boingo tapes, ride our bikes up to the Walgreens and get Cadbury Fruit and Nut bars and nail polish pens, and watch "Remote Control" on MTV.

Since then I've grown a bit emotionally. I have a real boyfriend and needent tear fake ones out of Bop magazine. But there's still that little tug when there's a Wheaton mention. My friend Marty, a poker player, ran into him at a tournament and texted me about it and it was like I was 14 again. So, no more collaging his head in with copy from Seventeen or Surfer magazine, but I still firmly believe he would have made a great high school boyfriend.