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I'm stuck inside this evening because the sky is opening up. I've been reading Dostoevsky but my brain has become too scattered to continue. Instead, I've decided to write a mindless blog about Myspace, of all things. I guess it was my scatter-brained mindless browsing on Myspace this evening that led me to this scatter-brained mindless blog. I think the appeal of Myspace is that no matter how scatter-brained and mindless you think you are, you're always a mere click away from someone much more scattered and much less...brained. Or so you think.
The best people to click on are people who you haven't seen in a few months or more and you go to their pictures and think, "Damn. You got crazy." You're probably reading this thinking I mean you and I don't. Unless you happen to be that crazy ass person I know who is gradually taking on the personality of some delusional muppet...according to Myspace.
"Damn. You got crazy," is one of the five seemingly automatic responses that I have to any given person on Myspace, the others being:
"Oh hell no."
"Why must you be gay?!"
"Why did I do that with you?"
"Why are you a DJ?!?!!"
Other than that, it's just guttural noises.
Why do people have pages and pages of pictures that they took of themselves? I think it's OK to have pictures like this...like one or two, not ten pages of them. And why do boys that I've hooked up with have to look like freakin creeps in pictures?! Maybe I just like creeps. No. You know it's not a good sign when you shriek and shut your laptop as soon as your eyes come across a picture thumbnail. "I swear he was hot when"...finishing that sentence is like most depressing MadLib ever. "...when I was drunk...when we were twelve...in that basement..." all the same person, of course. Wild times when I was twelve.
The worst is when you figure out that all of your friends basically know each other in some way or another. It's like Oldboy or something. Gross.
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