Freaking Out Squares

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

All Up In MySpace And Shit

I tend to get into things ten years after everyone else (like seeing Ghostbusters for the first time the day before I graduated high school in 1994) so there's no need to break this trend with my new MySpace fixation. Since the only reason I signed up in the first place was to join Ayun Halliday's MySpace group , I didn't feel any particular need to customize my page. I think I may have been completely opposed to the idea at the time, beings that I'd just turned thirty and was not for the first time coming to the realization that I was still an irresponsible fuckup who'd yet to fulfill even a tenth of her much-pimped early promise. Still haven't, but so what! Point is, I didn't really want to meet anybody. Or perhaps I should say I really did NOT want to meet anybody save kick-ass writers who never fail to respond to their fans' sloppy-kissy emails. Anyway.

And then, I don't know what snapped, but last week or so I just started going APE over this MySpace thang. Well, whatever "it" is snapped, let's say, when I clicked "Add Your Schools," or maybe before that, because as you two readers know, I hate(d) my schools. (Oh, and you know what else I hate? People who get all snotty when I'm trying to do my damn job. I have an absolutely dream temp job checking people in at a to-the-trade-only showroom that allows for all the MySpace/AOL/Blogger/Television Without Pity time I care to eat, and this uptight broad got all up on her high horse when I asked for ID because SHE'S here ALL THE TIME. Right, Lady, and I ain't, so give me your fucking driver's license and quitcher bitchin' when, like, um, Darfur. You dig? Oh, well, thus far she's been the only asshole, thank the Good Gourd, and I'd rather the grimy environs of the Garment District than the evil Upper East Side. Well, I'd rather a hot knitting needle with arsenic on the tip than the UES, but I digress--and rhyme, apparently.) And maybe I'm a tad paranoid and self-loathing, but I had nightmarish images of tormentors of yore smacking me with such original missives as "Your a fat ugly bitch cunt fuck off" and since they're doing that in my head almost 24/7, I really don't need to have prophecy coming true online where everyone can see and shrug their shoulders that boys will be boys and um, not to be rude but maybe I should lose some weight or something and then they'd leave me alone.

But I guess unlike me, most people have better things to do, and are in better mental health. Not that I've been emailing former classmates I couldn't stand and telling them to fuck off, mind you. I have, however, been consistently agog at the pages of some of the pituitary cases who are my former classmates (note to those of you I've added as Friends: none of you are pituitary cases, which should be obvious, but sometimes these things bear repeating). And while it doesn't take much to yank me back to that grungy whineland known as High School in the Early '90s, I was not prepared for the full-on ICK immersion in which I found myself not waving, but drowning when I read the profile of a guy from my class who claims to be carrying on the good work of Ronald Reagan. Or something. I swear, reading some of these people's profiles makes me feel like I've gorged on Mountain Dew and Slim Jims and am wedged in the back of an '87 Camaro listening to Pantera. Or something. Must make like Karen Silkwood and take a decontamination shower! (And perhaps administer meself a lifesaving emetic...)

On a more serious note, I've started a fundraising campaign for Heifer International, whose efforts to stomp out world hunger and promote women's lambing programs should go a long way toward Tom's of Maine-ing the Ron Reagan/Slim Jim/DEEEWWWW!!!! residue from our collective mouths, if nothing else. I'm trying to raise $1,000, and honestly, every little bit does help, so please contribute. Just click that there Heifer button on the sidebar and you'll be redirected to my uninspired fundraising page. I promise to add some color tomorrow.

And one last thing: If someone steals your wallet, and then steals $3K from your bank account, do not just assume your bank is going to give it back, especially if you are a poor slob like yours truly. Chances are they'll just give you reason after reason for not paying you what's rightfully yours, including accusing you of perpetrating the theft yourself in order to defraud them. Because they can, and because they are rapists. And that is the moral of the bank story with which I teased you last time.

Visit my MySpace profile at, s'il vous plait. Et de rien!


Anonymous Anonymous said...

It is remarkable, this very valuable message
Like attentively would read, but has not understood
In it something is also to me it seems it is very good idea. Completely with you I will agree.
In my opinion you commit an error. I can prove it. Write to me in PM, we will communicate.
It is remarkable, rather amusing idea

[url=][b]Cheap NHL Jerseys[/b][/url]
[url=][b]Cheap NHL Jerseys[/b][/url]
[url=][b]Cheap NHL Jerseys[/b][/url]
[url=][b]Cheap NHL Jerseys[/b][/url]
[url=][b]Cheap NHL Jerseys[/b][/url]

6:59 PM


Post a Comment

<< Home