Interview 2
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i so pity this poor Chet guy....
Follow-Up Interview With Avril Lavigne September 7, 2002 I straighten the collar on my light blue polo shirt nervously as I watch several acts on the roster for Minneapolis radio station, KDWB's annual Last Chance Summer Dance perform. It is certainly not the first time I've been in attendance at a concert. It's not the concert that makes me nervous. It's the interview I'm to do very soon. There is an astounding applause as the next performer is introduced. It's 17-year-old rocker, Avril Lavigne, the girl I'm set to interview after the show. I can see Avril quite well from where I'm standing. In fact, I see her in an almost painfully clear way. Her dark blue army shirt and striped tie seem to stand out too well and I feel myself being trapped by the realization of where I am and what I'm doing. But perhaps I should stop now for a moment and explain myself. Just last week, I wrote on my website that my last Avril interview experience must have surely been a misunderstanding. To put it lightly, Avril was rather rude to me, however it still fails to be seen which one of us was truly at fault. This is my mission today: To interview Avril again and hopefully, do a better job of it. I am not sure if she will remember me or the interview. My hope is that we will be able to make some kind of a connection. As a journalist, I am more than eager to interview one of today's biggest and brightest stars. Avril is, without argument, making an impact all over the world and I feel obligated to find out more about her. This task, though, is a difficult one for me. Since interviewing Avril back in July, secretly, I have been having nightmares about the "Sk8er Boi" singing, petite 5'2", outspoken, rawkstar. I know that I should not be afraid, but I am. I look up at Avril as she performs. Her hands grip the microphone tightly as she soulfully sings. She scans the crowd slowly, her eyes finally landing on ME. She continues singing, but I see that she is thinking about something. I know that she must somehow, see straight through me. She knows that I am afraid. I smack myself back to reality and try to enjoy the rest of the show. I run through an ideal interview in my head, reminding myself that I should come back to reality. After all, this is only a teenage girl. I am an experienced journalist of many years and have nothing to fear. The show is over and the crowd is beginning to exit and I slip backstage. I stop to have a few words with the remnants of girl-group 3LW, nodding sympathetically as Adrienne laments about ex-member, Naturi's recent exit from the group. She and Kiely apologize for not being able to talk longer, and head off in another direction. In the distance, I hear a pumped-up exclamation ("Hell yeah!") from a young girl. It's Avril. I close my eyes and try to remain calm. I walk closer and see her talking excitedly to one of her band members. There are few others in sight. My hand draws tightly around the two folding chairs I brought along. Would Avril want to sit down? Would she even agree to do the interview? I take a deep breath. "Avril," I begin brightly, walking towards her and extending my hand. Avril stops in mid-sentence. Both she and the band guy look annoyed. I clear my throat and say, "I was wondering if you might like to do an interview." "Uhmm," Avril mutters passively, "Just a minute." She leans towards the band member and they whisper together for a moment. "Sure!" she exclaims, breaking away from the huddle. "I'm gonna go get a hot dog," the guy says, waving as he walks off away from us. "I brought some chairs if you'd like," I offer, my voice breaking a little towards the end of the brief statement. "Oh, awesome!" Avril says, bouncing towards me a grabbing one of them. She takes an excessively long time unfolding it and then sits down across from me. "You may remember me," I begin. "Yeah! Chad! My man! How the fuck have you been?" Avril interrupts. "Actually, it's Chet," I correct her, "Chet Healey." "Oh, yeah, cool, whatever," she says quickly. Unsure of how to proceed, I nervously straighten my collar once again. "Nice shirt," Avril snorts. Deciding to ignore the comment, I smile a little bit and prepare to begin the interview. "Your new video for 'Sk8er Boi,' is heavily rotated on both MTV and Much Music. Are you glad that people seem to be responding so well to the second single?" I ask. "What do you mean? Like I'm not a one-hit wonder now or something? I never thought I was gonna be one. I know I'm gonna be so much more than that," she replies defensively. "So you've always known you'd be a singer," I springboard off her last comment. "Hell, yes! I remember being a little girl and singing wherever I went. I worked to make my name known and shit. I knew I was gonna be a star.," she says, putting specific emphasis on the word "star." I nod in agreement, and say, "Well, you certainly are a star." "Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?" she then asks. Feeling as though the tables have been turned, perhaps a bit inappropriately, I reply coolly, "I prefer the word 'journalist,' but yes. I have always enjoyed writing." "Are you like, really a real journalist then," she asks, fingering the bottom of her signature tie. Ignoring this comment also, I decide to quickly ask another question. "Tell us about your tie," I blurt out. A look of genuine disgust crosses over Avril's face. Her mouth draws up into a harsh scowl. "What about my tie?" she demands. Finding myself a bit tongue tied, I expand on the question. "Is it an essential part of your style?" "What's this 'my style?' I just wear whatever the fuck I want. I wear ties because I like to. I wouldn't like wear a fucking Ralph Lauren baby blue polo shirt like some people are doing just to make themselves look good and shit." she blasts. Reeling from the verbal assault, I manage to get out an "Okay," and then instinctively reach under my chair. I must explain something at this point. I always carry with me a notebook with questions and comments about whoever it is I'm set to interview on a particular day. In my last interview, I attempted to avoid using the notebook simply because upon seeing it, Avril immediately looked annoyed. This time I have not brought a notebook at all. Deciding that it was time to go back to the basics, I quickly think of a simple question to ask Avril. "What was it like shooting the 'Sk8er Boi' video?" "Uhhm, dude. It was on MTV. Making the Video, duh," she mutters. "Oh really?" I ask. "Tell us about the special." "It was just like us making the video and all. Me and my band. We hung out, had a great time and made the video. What more do you need to know?" "Where was it shot?" I say. "In LA," Avril replies, sounding extremely annoyed at this point. "Cool," I reply, at a complete loss for words. "So like, are you gonna ask me some real questions or not?" Avril asks. "Cause I've got like places to go and things to do." "I'm sorry, I apologize," I reply. "Whatever," Avril says, haughtily. "You've been around performing and promoting for awhile now. What are some of your favorite places and favorite parts of being on tour?" I ask, relieved to have finally found a good question. "Dude, I'm not on tour.," she corrects me. "I'm promoting. I can't wait to fucking be on a real tour. It's gonna be so awesome." "Why's that?" I ask. "I love performing," Avril replies, almost smiling, "It's like my favorite part of all this. I can't wait until I can perform every night for all new people. It's gonna be the best. And hanging out with the band. Oh my god, I just can't wait." "Speaking of the band, I've heard some rumors that you're dating one of the members. Is there any truth to that? They're all quite cute and seem like wonderful young gentleman." Avril looks at me blankly for a minute and then doubles over in laughter. Between her giggles, I can make out "Wonderful...young...gentleman....what....the...fuck??" "Avril..." I say, trying to get her attention. I am unsuccessful. I reach over and touch her knee to get her attention. Avril stops immediately, sits up, and glares at me. She grabs my hand, "Don't you fucking touch me," she hisses. "Sorry!" I exclaim. She keeps her iron grip on my hand. "You'd better be," she growls, and then releases my hand. It's throbbing in pain. "Some grip you've got there," I chuckle, tears welling up in my eyes. "Ohmigod, are you okay?" Avril asks. I nod, trying not to cry. "Here," she says, offering her tie to me. I look at her quizzically for a moment. Her eyes are wide and she looks concerned. "I don't have any Kleenex...for you to dry your eyes," she says quietly. "Oh....thank you," I reply and deciding to humor her, use the tie to gently wipe the corner of my eyes. Because I'm holding her tie, Avril's face is now within a few inches of my face. I can smell odor of Juicy Fruit gum on her breath. She inhales quickly and spits right in my face. It is a direct hit straight in my right eye. Avril leans back quickly, looking astonished and also extremely amused. She begins laughing again. I reach into my pockets, looking for something, anything, to clean my face off. I find nothing. Sighing, I grab the front of my shirt and use it to dry my eyes. Avril laughs even harder when she sees this. I roll my eyes and stand up, ready to leave. "Dude, really, I'm sorry," Avril giggles. I fold up my chair quickly and begin walking away. I have had enough. "Hey!" Avril shouts and runs after me. "I can see you don't want me to interview you," I cry. "Honestly, I'm sorry!" she shouts. I whirl around and carefully look at her. She's standing with one hand on her hip, looking upset and even a bit ashamed. "Really?" I ask. "Really," she replies, nodding, holding out her hand, offering an apology. "Friends?" I walk towards her. She is only about 15 feet away. As I approach, her mouth begins to curl into a vicious smile. I am now five feet away. "Get him!" she shouts, looking straight behind me. I turn around and am met with a huge splash on my front. A moment later, I realize it's ketchup and I realize that the "attackers" were two of Avril's band members. I can hear Avril laughing behind me. I turn around to confront her. "Fuck you, dude!" she laughs. "I remember you and your stupid ass questions from last time. Don't you ever fucking try to interview me again!" I walk away, hurt and offended. I stop once, to look at Avril and her band. They are high-fiving each other and laughing cruelly. Avril spots me looking at her and sticks up her middle finger. I will do as she says. I am never interviewing Avril Lavigne again for the rest of my life. � 2002 Chet Healey. Chet Healey, Interscope Incorporated, and Rankin Publishing are in no way associated with the management companies of the celebrities interviewed or discussed here. Nor do we hold any of the same views they present.
Interview 1
