Friendship.
Friendster friendster friendster. I hopped on the Friendster bandwagon last year because it was a highly addictive way of networking. I could collect friends like baseball cards, and write clever high-school-yearbook-esque “testimonials” to all the girls I know who won’t sleep with me. We would write bulletins about upcoming parties we have no intention of attending, send retarded messages back and forth about how special we were, and meet new people based on zip code and breast size. Oh, the world of Friendster was such fun in those days.
Now it’s a complete fucking mess. Gone are the carefree days of “check out how fucking fat Michele_BlueEyes is in her picture” and in are the days of mindless political ranting. It’s some guy with a faux-hawk claiming to unravel a huge Bush conspiracy. Dude, your favorite bands are the White Stripes and the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s – isn’t this predictable Bush-bashing cutting into your shoe shopping time? Hot Topic has a sale on belts – GET! I wouldn’t mind it as much if all the political discussion was rational and sane, but it’s all the same fervent yet boring speech over and over, made for the sole intention of getting laid via the Internet. OH I SO WENT THERE. Hating President Bush is a sure fire way to get laid these days. Chicks dig it. It’s hot and sexy.
When you’re not hearing groundbreaking comparisons between the President and Hitler, you get to read messages about the latest DJ/Art/Dance party in L.A. Every party has pretty much the same formula – some bar is going to show paintings or photography while some DJ is going to play records (probably 80’s mixed with some electroclash). Meanwhile, if your lucky, some girls with a lot of eyeliner on will be modeling dresses that nobody would ever buy. Drinks are “free” with a $5 donation. Usually there is one bartender, 500 people in line, and your choices are Gin n’ Milk or Robitussin on the rocks by the time you make it to the end. Oh, and to get into the whole mess, you need a password to get in.
That just killed 20 good minutes at work. Nice. And for the record, I did get a pretty cool belt last week.
Oh, and the Modesto pictures will be up here soon, including wonderful documentation of that arm wrestling game that ripped up my shoulder and my special lady singing "Pretty Woman" with an impromptu band when the only 2 words she knew of the song were "pretty" and "woman"
Now it’s a complete fucking mess. Gone are the carefree days of “check out how fucking fat Michele_BlueEyes is in her picture” and in are the days of mindless political ranting. It’s some guy with a faux-hawk claiming to unravel a huge Bush conspiracy. Dude, your favorite bands are the White Stripes and the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s – isn’t this predictable Bush-bashing cutting into your shoe shopping time? Hot Topic has a sale on belts – GET! I wouldn’t mind it as much if all the political discussion was rational and sane, but it’s all the same fervent yet boring speech over and over, made for the sole intention of getting laid via the Internet. OH I SO WENT THERE. Hating President Bush is a sure fire way to get laid these days. Chicks dig it. It’s hot and sexy.
When you’re not hearing groundbreaking comparisons between the President and Hitler, you get to read messages about the latest DJ/Art/Dance party in L.A. Every party has pretty much the same formula – some bar is going to show paintings or photography while some DJ is going to play records (probably 80’s mixed with some electroclash). Meanwhile, if your lucky, some girls with a lot of eyeliner on will be modeling dresses that nobody would ever buy. Drinks are “free” with a $5 donation. Usually there is one bartender, 500 people in line, and your choices are Gin n’ Milk or Robitussin on the rocks by the time you make it to the end. Oh, and to get into the whole mess, you need a password to get in.
That just killed 20 good minutes at work. Nice. And for the record, I did get a pretty cool belt last week.
Oh, and the Modesto pictures will be up here soon, including wonderful documentation of that arm wrestling game that ripped up my shoulder and my special lady singing "Pretty Woman" with an impromptu band when the only 2 words she knew of the song were "pretty" and "woman"
posted by Comedy Mark @ 12:29 PM
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