Things unsaid

She was my best-friend. She may not know she still is. But things are different now. We hurt each other in different ways, the injuries inflicted on each of us just the same. I miss her so much sometimes it hurts. It's not that we don't speak. We do. But its infrequent. No longer completely effortless. There was a time we practically lived together. Wrapping our arms around one another in protection. I wasn't there when she needed me most. I couldn't be. I wasn't even the same person, and I needed to negotiate that in my own mind.

She needed my compassion, my protection, my love and hugs and kisses. She needed me to hold her hand. But I couldn't. I was incapable. She said hurtful things to me. Things that burned deep and dark holes in my heart. But she felt justified. She felt the person she desperately needed abandoned her. And I did. But not with malice, not with intention, not with lack of love. I was paralyzed. Emotionally paralyzed. I couldn't expect anyone to understand this. Especially not someone who had always been there for me. I'm like a dog in many ways, I love unconditionally and can take many hits on the nose. But too many eventually makes me crawl away with my tail between my legs. If someone said "Fuck You" to me I was never good at yelling "Fuck You" back. And because of this, resentment builds up. Add to0 that emotional paralysis and you create a deadly cocktail. I was too vulnerable. Too naked then. I couldn't take the chance of being hurt. But in pulling away, I cheated myself. And her.

I missed her babies growing up. I missed being an Auntie. I missed hours of figuring out how many different times we could call something "pastel-ee" or turn even the most random thing into some silly sports metaphor. Going a day only saying things we had heard Walt Clyde Frazier exclaim during a Knick Game. We had our own secret language. But then, she does with everyone. She's just that kind of person. She can turn the most mundane day into something to laugh about years later. We used to give each other little presents. Everyday. Just because. We even made lists of why we were best-friends. Silly yes...... but those are the things that you recall later in life, when you've moved away and know that no one on earth will ever replace that person.

I look back with hindsight and say, "I could have done things differently." But I couldn't have. I did the only thing I knew how at the time. I have to live with my behavior, as does she. But there are no villians or heroes in this story. Just two people who shared and still do share a friendship rare and special. I should have been able to deal. But I couldn't. It shouldn't have mattered how many things I was mad at her about, or how I feared she might scar me again. We were best-friends. We love each other, the good, the bad and the ugly. I love you. This is my apology for years past, for regretful things, for not being there and wishing more than ever that I was. I miss you and miss you fiercly. In my darkest hours, my most vulnerable moments, it is you for some reason that I want to cling too. It's with you I wish I could take refuge. I wish I was there or you were here. And I wish I could turn back time.

Guess who's Bizzack:

Yes, I've been missing in action for nearly a month. Where do I begin. Do I need a doctors note? I thought I could hang with the Big GIRLS and ended up taking a few trips to the emergency room. This, and a million other things have had me M.I.A. ..

You know, or maybe you don't, that I was in desperate need of some female companionship, Estrogen, giggles and talk about all things fabulously important like M.A.C. makeup and brazilians. So my girls DaBxSuperstar and the Blackanese Princess came down to Miami and we had a blast. Fabulous dinners on Lincoln Road, hours spent trying NOT to spend a million dollars in So Good Jewelry, my new most favorite store. Miss Superstar took her little sister on a bonding mission to Miami Ink to get matching tattoos. I wanted to see Ami, the Isreali badass that owns the shop, but they were actually closing for the night when we got there.

Our first night we ventured over to Prive, better known as part of Opium Garden, where it was "Lapdance Tuesdays", and for some reason it didn't dawn on me that there would actually be strippers there, Giving Lapdances. Call me crazy, I like to believe that if I haven't actively decided to venture into a strip club, it's not going to venture to me. I forgot this is Miami, where anything goes, even in your local hotspot. So, as we settled into VIP, I was quickly greeted by a lovely girl in a floss sized G-String and little itty bitty bikini top, rubbing her ass allllllll ova my head. I was sitting on the bench and she was dancing above me. Then the guy sitting next to me asked for a "private" dance, and BAM, breastesses everwhere. Seriously, I just wanted to listen to some "I'm Bossy", without all the booty. And EVERYONE was smoking, I mean EVERYONE. The freakin BUSSBOYS were smoking. And then the G-String diva started hitting on me, WHILE smoking in my face. This would be the beginning of my demise. I mean, what civilized state even allows this anymore!!! New York... NO. Los Angeles, NO. BUT Miami, let the debauchery continue! Lets Poison everyone!!!

I'm sorry to all you smokers out there, I mean no offense, but truly, if you think your second hand smoke isn't harmful, you're just wrong. For ANYONE with a breathing issue, smoke is like Kryptonite.

So we left the strippers, Football players and other assorted Miami Butterflies and Bees to bounce for the night. After spending the following day paralyzed in my bed, I decided to once again venture down to South Beach. This night we were invited to a spot I had never heard of- SNATCH. Now all anyone needs to know about this spot is as we are walking up to the entrance, BEAU from Big Brother 6 is outside, talking to the owner. So, I'm DONE. HEAVEN. And while I really was irritated with him and his participation in the Nerd Herds activities last summer on my favorite reality show(besides the Amazing Race), He has come from the dark side and is now friends with My future "if I was a lesbian" wife, Janelle, and thus gets a cool kid club card. So once again, we settled into VIP, this night sans strippers and the first thing I see directly across from me is Mickey Rourke in all of his at least 50 if not 60 year old, Nip'd and Tuck'd glory, practically having sex with a blond younger than me. It was like watching a train wreck it was so bad, and yet I honestly couldn't tear my eyes away from that. Until of course Paris Hilton walked by to sit with the 2006 "Brat Pack." Paris, her sister, Kim Kardashian and Brandon "Greasy" Davis who infamously went on a "Firecrotch" rant insulting Lindsey Lohan, as Paris sat next to him giggling and sidekick messaging away. The dude is a slimeball...and in person, the slim was just drip, drip, dripping off of him. I could not believe this guy is worth Billions. Where is the justice??? Miss Kardashian, who is quite possibly the BADDEST chick I've seen, in well, forever, was "Canoodling", as Page Six would say, with Scott Storch. Kim, is nearly flawless. Granted, she bought her figure from the Best of Doctor 90210's, but damn.....flawless I tell you. I was shocked she was all over Scott Storch, I mean.... idck. No offense Scott.

BB6 Beau came over to me and told me "You're a Hot Bitch". I wanted to scream at him that I was a HUYGE fan, and put on the full stalker thing, but just couldn't bring myself to it. I just blushed and said, "Aww thank you!" Dumbass... It's the New Yorker in me, to good to act like a fan. Pshhhhh. BB6 Ivette came and I nearly lost it again. I HATED this girl most of last summer. She was Janelle's arch nemesis, but then at the end, when it was Ivette and Maggie in the Big Brother finals, I was pulling for Ivette. She's a hot tempered latina lesbian that was just misguided hating on my Janie. So I sat back and watched Gay Beau and Gay Ivette dance across from me, withouth ever uttering a "I know everything about you because Im a crazy Big Brother fan" word. *Sigh*.

The night at SNATCH was filled with celebs and Miami socialistas, faces many of which I knew but couldn't place, probably models and the like. If you're ever in the M.I.A. stop by. The spot itself is cozy and comfortable, the waitresses are all HOT, they don't overcrowd the place, and on any given night you can spot Mathew McConaughey and Lance Armstrong or Jay and Beyonce, and hundreds of other randomly beautiful people, all of whom just want to chill and listen to good music. If they banned smoking it would be perfect. Unfortunately they don't, which is why the following morning I woke up deathly ill with absolutely no voice. The first sign I've been poisoned by smoke is my voice goes, then my lungs. And then it's just a viscious cycle of events that inevitably lead to an emergency room Doctor looking at me with that Maternal or Paternal look of astonishment and dissapointment, saying "What were you thinking going out!"

Too be continued....have to pee:)