Revisiting the Ghosts of MySpace Past
One of the questions that I get asked the most by people is: “Where did you, a future Pulitzer Prize-winning writer, obtain your impeccable literary skills from?”
(OK, maybe I’m paraphrasing a little. It’s more along the lines of “So…did you go to school so you can be a smartass on the internet?”)
No, I did not. Unlike my peers who may have studied things like “journalism” and “English” at institutes of higher learning that did not have a 100% acceptance rate, I developed my skills online. No, I’m not talking about online college. I’m talking about the one and only MySpace. While one of the first articles that I wrote for The Source was about the graveyard of MySpace, I had yet to share my personal blogs with the world. To even get them, I had to submit an emailed request- a request that was fulfilled four months later when someone from MySpace (yes, they still have a staff apparently) sent my my blogs in an Excel Spreadsheet. While I won’t bore you with the minutiae of each and every blog, I’ve decided to pull out some excerpts from what can only be described as the epitomization of a borderline emo girl coming of age in the new millenium. (But I wasn’t a regular emo, I was a cool emo.)
All wording has been copied from its original form (grammar errors included). 2019 commentary is in bold.
Miscellaneous Old School Excerpts
Much like fairies, unicorns, trolls, and the 4th season of 24, I don't believe in love. Not calling a girl or at least instant messaging her is very dick thing to do. Unless you were abducted by Paris Hilton herself, you have no excuse. (I challenge you to find a more 2005 reference set.)
I hope this is a lesson to all the other ho’s out there- karma is a bitch. Most importantly, follow the advice set out by a wise, wise girl.
"The skank may win the battle, but the smart girl wins the war." (Hella emo, but sentiment remains the same.)
When did MTV become so lame? Back in my day and before, MTV was the channel we could count on to shock and awe our parents. MTV was destined to be the "demise of the American youth." It was going to rot our brains and turn us into pyromaniacs, gangstas, and rebels who emulated the great Johnny Knoxville. But now it sucks. (This was 2007. We hadn’t seen anything yet.)
You don’t get to pretend to be emo if you have a stupid happy perfect life and a stupid happy perfect boyfriend. Stay listening to Justin Timblerlake and let us enjoy the real music like 90’s grunge. Which you know nothing about. (I can appreciate the anger here.)
Jack Bauer needs to stop writing freaking Hallmark cards and get back to the business of kicking ass. I want to see blood, carnage, torture, and violence. Not a fucking Lifetime movie of the week. (We also won’t be needing 24: To Live Another Day or some BS in 2016.)
He can't go more than 5 feet without finding someone to talk to (or annoy). They can usually be found checking their reflection in the mirror and fiddling with their iPod. (See kids, before music got streamed directly to your brain, there was this thing called the iPod…)
OK guys, I know that it's been a bit since I wrote a funny blog. But the drama is behind me and I've come to the conclusion that older guys are NOT more mature and in fact, many of them are kind of lame. (Duh.)
Some creepy old ass 26 year old guy…. (Um, about that…..)
So just know, karma is a bitch. This will all come back to you. Eventually, your true ugliness will be exposed. I guess I should say thank you for showing me what kind of guy Brian really was (who TF was Brian?)- not someone who was strong enough to form his own opinions about me, but weak enough to believe you. I am way too good of a person to have this happen to me (whatever happened must have been very traumatic, I’m sure). I am way too good for Brian (seriously, who is Brian????), way too good for all of you people (this part is probably true). I hope I get to see you all experience the pain you have caused me. Some of you are three years older than me. I hope like hell when I am your age that I never get so desperate for a guy's attention that I have to resort to the levels you have. (Don’t worry, you’ll be far pettier.) If not, there's a special place waiting for people like you in hell (nice emo closing).
You have watched 8 Mile one too many times and you have become the Ultimate Poser. The cure: repeat this mantra 30 times daily: "I am from the suburbs. I am not a gangsta. Dad still puts money in my bank account. I do not have game. I am not a player. I will NEVER be a famous rapper." (Factual. The gentleman this was written to is now a tax accountant.)
If I ever win an academy award, I will thank God, my family, and most of all my wonderful best friend Kristi for being my inspiration. There, Kristi, I gave u some myspace blog love. (I was a big deal on MySpace in 2005.)
When guys say “we kicked some ass," it really means that “we wrinkled their Hollister shirts.” (I never went full emo if I liked guys in Hollister shirts.)
To make the perfect party porch punch, make it on the porch (or in the garage), using as many varieties of liquor one can find (Skyy vodka is my favorite), (Skyy vodka was what the 25 year old guy at my job used to buy for us for $30 a bottle), Amaretto (it was in my parents’ liquor closet) combined with kool-aid, Hawaiian punch, or anything red. This ensures not only a somewhat tolerable taste, but ensures local carpet cleaning businesses will stay in business for many years to come. It is made spicier by a dash of people who are involved in a bizarre love triangle, quadrangle, or any other angle, so long as it involved a group of people who had drama. I have found, the more drama, the bigger the love angle, the spicier the party punch becomes. (Half the time, I created the aforementioned drama simply to ensure that people would enjoy my punch more.)
I'm sure there are more, but the OC is getting intense and I sympathise with what Summer is going through, so I have to go. (So 2004.)
2005 Fashion Commandments
Much like God gave Moses the Ten Commandments back in the day, I am about to give you the 2005 fashion commandments.
Speedos. Do not wear them. Ever. Unless you are IN the Olympics. (This still applies.)
Dollar sign chains. Listen, Tupac wore a dollar sign chain. So does 50 Cent. If you are getting off the public bus in Aurora, it's not cool, it's a fucking oxymoron. (50 Cent has significantly upgraded his wardrobe.)
Pink and black trucker hats. You ever seen a trucker in a pink hat? No. Stop it then.
Spandex. If you are actively running a marathon or skiing, you can wear spandex. However, you may not wear spandex if you are 300 pounds and riding your electric cart through Walmart.
Denim jackets. WTF???? Hey bud, 1987 called. It misses you. (I think these are a thing again.)
T-shirts that say "cutie," "princess", "hottie", or "sexy" on them. Unless you are a 9 or a 10 (and I'm the judge), you can't wear them. That's like Paris Hilton wearing a t-shirt that says 'genius." (Is Paris Hilton still a thing?) If you're hot, you do not need a shirt to show it. (Solidly applies in 2019.)
Guys, you may laugh at that above statement, but here is yours....you can't wear shirts that say "Welcome to the gun show (with arrows pointing to your biceps)" or anything equally as lame. Unless you have passed my hotness litmus test, you must leave the "Chicks Dig Me” shirts at home.
$1200 knockoff Louis Vuitton purses. You’re a ho and your mom works at Walmart. We know it’s fake. Just like you.
Pop Culture Detox for Lent 2007
For lent, I will give up all popular, mind-numbing culture that permeates our American society and hopefully, in turn, better myself.
So what is banned? I can't read People, Glamour, Cosmo, InTouch, OK, Star, Marie Claire, Allure, or any of that crap that in general insults the intelligence of the average American woman. Instead, I can read Time, Newsweek, the Economist, and US News and World Report, National Geographic, or any other magazine deemed "journalistic."
I can't watch E!, reality TV, Oxygen, Comedy Central (that will hurt the most), MTV, VH1, BET, or any stupid TV. I am allowed to watch the news, CNN, FOX News, MSNBC, Discovery Channel, History Channel, Animal Planet, and TLC. (Oh honey, let me tell you something about what’s going to happen with Fox News in a decade…)
I will limit myself to 20 minutes a day doing actual "work" on myspace and refrain from making fun of my ex boyfriend's new girlfriend. (Work was never done on MySpace. Ever.)
Beta Version Girlfriend
I've decided today that I'm the beta version girlfriend. I'm like girlfriend version 2.0, but not 3.0. For those of you who don't speak geek, the beta version usually represents the first version of a computer program that implements all features in the initial software requirements specification. It is likely to be unstable but useful for internal demonstrations and previews to select customers, but not yet ready for release. Some developers refer to this stage as a preview, as a technical preview (TP) or as an early access. (Nice copy and paste job there, Zoe.)
I think I'm most guy's beta girlfriend. Sure, I'm decent looking, I can be taken in public (ie. used for demonstrations). But I'm not ready to be the real thing (not ready for release). I’m not ready to be upgraded to wife. (You were like 18. Chill out.)
Often the beta version begins when the developers announce a feature freeze on the product, indicating that no more features requirements will be accepted for this version of the product. Only software issues, or bugs and unimplemented features will be addressed. So in other words, the guys I date decide I am too fat, too ugly, or not good enough. Then they cast me aside and upgrade to wife 1.0. (I mean, eventually they will leave her for wife 2.0 and wife 3.0, but that's besides the point). (They will.)
Beta versions stand at an intermediate step in the full development cycle. Developers (my parents) release them to a group of beta testers (the guys I've dated) for a user test. The testers report any bugs that they found and sometimes minor features they would like to see in the final version.
Yes, this may suck. And the beta version usually gets cast aside when a better version comes along. However, some beta programs have gotten picked up by other developers and been turned into awesome programs and applications, making lots of money. So, maybe being a beta isn't that bad after all, now is it? :) (No, it will work out just fine.)
I Like to Party
Coming back from Texas with my family, I met this kinda cute guy on the airplane. I should have realized he wasn't my type when I was reading People magazine and he was reading Bill O'Reilly: Cultural Warrior. (No, it wasn’t Alex Jones. At least I don’t think) But I digress. As we were about to disembark, he asked me what I was doing Friday night. I said nothing and he asked me if I wanted to go to The Mill.
Assuming this was a hip under 21 bar I had never heard of, I responded with: "Sure, I like to party."
Apparently, I didn't realize that was a right-wing ultraconservative church group.
Oops.
I think I took a purity pledge.
So Much Drama in the 719
OK, this was written by myself, Stan, and others. If you didn't get a shout-out, apologies. It's been a work in progress for over a year now, some of the people are gone. If parts don't make sense, deal with it and appreciate it for what it is (drunken raps by musically-challenged white people).
(To the tune of Snoop Dogg's "Gin and Juice")
With so much drama in the 7-1-9
It's kinda hard for me and these friends of mine,
But I, somehow, some way
Keep having new drama like every single day
May I, kick a little something for the GI's (yeah)
and, make a few ends as (yeah!) I breeze, through
One in the mornin and the bars's are closing
cause the Colorado laws suck.
Ray's still in the Ritz getting in a fight. (RIP, bro)
Jason's backing him up like every single night (every single night) (RIP, bro)
So what you wanna do, dude?
Let's roll to the Village Inn to get some food…
So turn off the lights and close the door
But remember, "you don't date cadets anymore!" (yeah)
So we gonna smoke a ounce to this
LT's up, hoes down, while you and your ladies bounce to this
Chorus: repeat 2X
Rollin down Tejon, smoking nothing, sippin on rum and coke
Laid back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]
Verse Two:
Now, gonna go get some Avalanche Ale.
Got the cups at Wal-Mart- yo, they were on sale.
Pour out liquor for our boy in Iraq – he's fine.
Reminisce on last summer- remember that time?
Everything is fine when you hanging with Zoe Z-
I got the awesome blogs that be captivating she-
who listens, to the words that I speak
As Kristi and I drank in Bourbon street
and got to mackin to this guy name JD.
He used to be my girl's baby.
Twenty degrees, when I tell him, "Bitch please."
You aint' got rank, you gets none of these
At ease, as I hang at Eden and I feel the breeze
beeeitch, I'm just
Rollin down Cimmaron, smoking nothing, sippin on rum and coke
Laid back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]
Verse Three:
Later on that day
My boy Kyle came through with a gang of Tanqueray. (Fuck you Kyle, my mattress smelled like cheap ass gin from where you spilled that bottle when you passed out for two years.)
And a fat lady.
(which meant)
Paul, Karl and I were gonna choke
And probably therefore make a joke .
I had to back up off of it and sit my cup down
Tanqueray and chronic, yeah I'm fucked up now
But they don't want a sausagefest in this place so-
Stan's got some chicks that he met on myspace.
To serve me, "She's fat but she's sweet!"
Cause what happens at the Retreat stays at the Retreat. (The Retreat was a slightly less ghetto version of The Bridges)
Don't get upset girl, that's just how it goes
Bros before hoes, I'm out the do'
And I'll be -
Rollin down the street, smokin nothing, sippin on Tuaca bombs (beeotch!!)
Laid back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]
Rollin down the street, smokin nothing, sippin on Fat Tire (beeotch!!)
Laid back [with my mind on my money and my money on my mind]
Dear Tooth Fairy
This is an honest-to-God true story. The day after I wrote this blog in November of 2005, I met one of the great loves of my life. We are still great friends today.
Apparently somehow my OTHER back tooth root had gotten pushed up into my sinus cavity and some sort of abscess had formed on my tooth, gotten into the jawbone and thus messed up my sinus. This is the SECOND TOOTH IN A YEAR. So they removed everything today including part of my jawbone. I couldn't talk for several hours. I am sure there are many people in this world who would have loved for that to have been extended to several days.
But nonetheless, I am fine.
So Tony had the best idea. I am going to put it under my pillow for the tooth fairy. When I was little, she gave me a dollar. Based on the rate of inflation, the cost of living variance between two distinct geographical points, and compounded interest for the last 20 years, I'd say you owe me about $2,543. Or she could just send me a boyfriend.
When I was little, I would write her letters. Maybe she has email now. This is what it would say.
Dear Tooth Fairy,
Listen you sadistic witch. Apparently you feel like inflicting incredible amounts of pain and suffering on me. If this pattern of behaviour continues and history repeats itself, I am going to have to get a tooth pulled every year. By the time I am 30, I am going to look like I belong in a trailer park in Arkansas. Minus the obesity. And the bad accents. (Don’t worry, you’ll blend in just fine in America by then.)
I know you have many 5 year olds who are in request of your services tonight. But please listen to me.
I would like a boyfriend. He must be taller than me, buff, remotely good-looking, ambitious, and not have too many more issues than me. His shoulders also must be wider than mine too. He must have half of a working brain cell and have straight white teeth (if you send me a hockey player, not all of them need to be real), and most importantly- no back hair! (That is an oddly specific request.)
Also, I am not looking for a temporary guy- no beta versions like last year. I hope you have worked out the kinks and upgraded to ZoesPerfectGuy 2.0. (You’re gonna have to go through about eight more versions after this one.)
I understand that leaving him under my pillow might be physically impossible. If you cannot fit him underneath my pillow, please place him in the closet. I will retrieve him in the morning.
Thank you.
Zoe
P.S. Feel free to leave some quarters as well, since I never have change to pay the damn parking meters by work.
What would Jack Bauer Do?
This is for all of my fellow 24 afficionados out there....
About two weeks ago, I was involved in a workplace accident. The long story short is that I ended up with a 3 inch shard of wood in my leg. This caused me much pain and agony (and ruined a pair of black pants). As I sat in the emergency room waiting to get the wooden dagger removed, I thought about season 3 of 24 where Jack Bauer gets a piece of airplane in his leg. He was able to yank the piece of metal out of his leg and then go out and fight terrorism.
Why couldn't I even serve people their enchiladas?
The answer is clear- Jack Bauer is THE badass. He is our generation's Chuck Norris or MacGyver. Only way more badass. (Jack Bauer to this day remains one of the baddest badasses that ever lived. And President Palmer was our real first black president.)
Jack can pilot helicopters, get cell phone reception undersground in Mexico (I can't even get reception in my bathroom). He can avoid semi-automatic gunfire, come back from a clinical death, and still manage to have a heartfelt moment all in a single day.
Dr. Phil and other so-called "experts" offer advice on how to manage your time and handle the stress in your life.
Please, Dr. Phil? I propose a new way to get through your day to day troubles and deal with annoying co-workers, traffic jams, and bad cell phone reception.
Every time life hands you lemons, ask yourself: What Would Jack Do?
The situation: Traffic on the freeway is at a standstill and you really have to pee.
What Jack would do: Swerve off the freeway and down an embankment and continue along alternate route. No four wheel drive? Simply pull a gun on the next person you see driving a Ford SUV (this season's sponsor) and take their car. Naturally, since you are Jack Bauer, you will not get a flat tire, run out of gas, or hit any rocks. When you arrive at your destination, do not put the car in park and exit the vehicle. Instead, jump out as car is travelling approximately 40 mph. Since you are Jack, you have no need or time to use the restroom, so stop whining about it and find a water bottle.
Situation: You hear a noise in the hallway in the middle of the night..
What Jack Would do: Since you are Jack, you never sleep. Naturally, you grab the .45 that is under your pillow and crouch into a stealthy position with your back against the wall. Whisper into your wristwatch, "Sector 5 has been compromised." You kick down the door for added effect and prepare to strangle the intruder with your bare hands. Instead, you find the bewildered dog looking at you as if you belong in a plastic room.
Situation: Your friend won't tell you what that girl you hate said about you.
What Jack Would do: Put her in a headlock and tie her to a chair using nothing more than her sweater. Say the following, "I'll take this towel and shove it down your throat. Your body will start to digest it and then I'll rip it out. You will die a slow painful death. Now tell me what she said DAMMIT!"
Situation: The child you are babysitting for gets a nosebleed.
What Jack Would Do: Shout, "The Virus is out! I repeat, the virus is out! I need a Level 3 quarantine for a 3 mile radius. Now!" Your sister will then say, "I'm on it," and start downloading the schematics of the local road map of the city. Naturally, she better know how to hack into the government's computer infrastructure (Chloe would).
Situation: Your friend calls you when you are at work/church/funeral/or other place where talking on a call phone is not socially acceptable.
What Jack Would Do: Say, "I'm in a flank two position. We have to go dark."
Situation: You are at work and want to talk to someone down the hall.
What Jack Would Do: Grab the nearest person by the shirt and say, "Get me Lopez, NOW!" If they refuse, shoot another co-worker.
Situation: You don't like your new boss at work.
What Jack Would Do: Find intel that he/she is a mole and is secretly working with terrorists. Call security and take him or her into holding. Proceed to torture them with an array of methods until they agree to stop eating tuna at their desks and sending out unrelevant memos.
Situation: You get a traffic ticket.
What Jack Would Do: Jack would never get a traffic ticket because he has complete access to police scanners in every county in California and Arizona. If he did, he would place a personal call to the president on his cell phone and have him tell the police officer to stop interfering with national security.
Situation: Your friend does not want to stop at Starbucks.
What Jack Would Do: Put her in a headlock as she is driving her large (Ford of course) SUV. Choke her into submission. Throw her unconscious body onto the side of the road and continue with mission. (Think about that Kristi next time I want a Frappuccino).
That's all for now. I will update more as I think of them. As always, this blog was written between the hours of 9 p.m. and 10 p.m.
Frat Guys Are Lame
Frat guys are so lame. Literally, they are why gyms were invented. They can be found hovering around the squat rack. They spend more time talking about their lifting than they actually lift. Half of their salaries are spent at GNC buying various supplements. This ensures that they will have very expensive urine. The shirt monster* and his distant cousin the sleeve monster** have paid these guys several visits. They wear shirts with quotes such as "The right to BARE arms" and "I got 99 Problems but a Bench Aint One: HS Powerlifting Team '01." Much like my ex-boyfriends, these guys enjoy going in the locker room and having their friend stick it in their ass (except with these guys, we are talking about steroids). They are usually listening to AC/DC or Metallica. There is a lot of dude-love going on here.
*The shirt monster is a mythological creature which sneaks into guy's rooms at night and eats all of their t-shirts. His distant cousin, the sleeve monster, eats only the sleeves off any shirt which could possibly be worn to the gym. They naturally lurk near military bases and frat houses.
People Who Annoy Me (Volumes 1-4)
(This blog has been condensed from four very long rambling blogs that were clearly describing specific people.)
Everyone knows that much like cannibalistic tribes of the Amazon, myspace is a subculture of it's own. And like the hunters, gatherers, and the guy who makes necklaces of human teeth, there are different people on myspace. (I'm pretty sure there's a person on here somewhere who probably does make necklaces out of human teeth....).
This is titled Volume 1 since 95% of the people I interact with on a daily basis annoy me in one way or another.
The pseudo-intellectual in class who won't shut the hell up: Come on, if you have taken an advanced or AP class, you know this person. They keep talking incessantly and feel the need to question or comment on everything the teacher says. Listen dude, you're taking a basic philosophy class for community college credits. Aristotle, you are not. We really don't care about your thoughts on the subject. No one wants to hear your yapping, they just want to get done early so they can go burn one in their car at lunch....
The Ballers: These guy's basketball careers peaked in 10th grade when they played for the JV team in high school. However, they will still compare themselves to Carmello Anthony (except they, naturally, have way more game). (Carmello Anthony was very cool in 2007.) Their shorts will be sagged down revealing their Tommy Hilfiger boxers. If a stereo is available, they will be listening to Mike Jones (who?) or Nelly. If they make an exceptionally smooth move, they will attempt to duplicate it, especially in the presence of girls who may be watching the game. Bonus points if they mention the 1997 rivalry between Southeastern and Carmel and are still attempting to redeem themselves seven years later.
The Barbie Doll: After a rough day of eating nothing but salads, this 95 pound creature will come to the gym in full makeup and every hair in place. She can often times be mistaken for a starving African child. Many debates will ensue as to whether or not she is wearing shorts or panties. She will not break a sweat. Her typical habitat is in the tai chi class (which is not real exercise by the way). She will claim she is "trying to build muscle." Everyone hopes she dies. (Which in 2019 is a high probability as she takes a selfie and hits the speed up button on the treadmill.)
"Little Miss Perfect"- This is the 18 year old girl who is married already and says she's just on here to "make friends." Shut the hell up bitch! She is in college, usually studying education, but in reality, she will never work a day in her life, she will spend her life being the gold-digging, self-absorbed, bitch that she is- the one who looks down on the rest of us who weren't so lucky. She usually mentions how religious she is. I'm sure it's easy to be religious when God has decided to give you the perfect life while some of us suffer and work two just to afford things we want. So why don't you stop rubbing it in our faces how perfect you are? At least I know in 5 years, you will be fat and ugly and your bratty kids will hate you. As will your husband. Then he will have an affair with a cute college girl he meets at Starbucks. Karma's a bitch and so are you. (Despite the anger, this is also an accurate prediction)
"The Stripper"- This girl's headline might as well be "I'm a Ho!!!" First off, it is pathetic that you even paid money to get those pictures taken. You look horrible, everyone laughs at your pictures. Are you so pathetic that you need to take your clothes off? How much of an attention whore are you? (Like cockroaches, these bitches never died. They just started using filters.)
"The Guy With 1,200 Friends"- Wow, so many friends. I'm impressed. Apparently you have no life. Kudos if it's a harem of random girls. I'm impressed with your hotness.
Party Boy: This is the guy with his shirt off in ALL of his pictures. Our little charmer probably has an armband tattoo on one arm and fraternity letters somewhere on his body. He has a lame opening quote, usually something about "kicking ass" or how badass he is. His top friends are all hot girls in bikinis. He probably doesn't know any of them in reality. He posts bulletins at least once a week reminiscing how cool he was in high school and/or college. His friends (fellow frat brothers usually) comments all embellish the weekend to the point of drunken alcoholic debauchery. In reality, he and his friends sat around playing video games, popping their collars, and spanking pledges with their paddles.... (these kinds of guys are all investment bankers now).
The new mother: Fine, people have kids. Good for you. I'm glad you're happy and doing your part to extend civilization. But I DON'T F---ING CARE about your baby's bowel movements and burping! I really don't! If I wanted to know, I'd ask. Why is it ok for these women to talk about, in graphic detail, their 17 hours of labor but I can't talk about getting wasted and vomiting in my sister's hamper? I also think if they can show their breast in public, we all should be able to. I'm sure the ACLU would back me up on that. (I was a thinker ahead of my time.) I mean, seriously, you got knocked up. (Kudos if you actually know the guy who fathered your child). You didn't perform brain surgery. If you cloned the baby using Einstein's genes, then maybe I'll be interested. However, till then, I don't care.
The Not-So-Rebel : OK dude, you snuck in the pool at Gleneagle after hours. You jumped the fence and evaded the one policeman in the suburbs. Shock me with your rebellious ways.
Don't Make Me Part of Your Midlife Crisis: What’s more pathetic is the guy who is 33 years old and still hitting on 18 year olds! (Still pathetic) Seriously, how pathetic are you if you divorce your wife cause she got old and fat and left her with the kids? You, on the other hand, go out and buy the Beamer, throw down cash at the bar left and right, and now need a young girl to compensate for the fact that you are old, fat, and balding. Why would I want to be with a person like that? If you are over the age of 30 and still hanging out at rum bay, you are pathetic. If you think that buying a system and pimping out your Denali makes you cool, you are pathetic. It was cool when I was 14, but then again so was wearing gold chains with a dollar sign on it. (No it wasn’t.) If you still have your homecoming king crown (from 1997) and expect me to be impressed, forget it. It's beyond pathetic. Same goes for telling us about how awesome you were in football. Ever seen Napolean Dynomite? "Don't you wish you could just go back?" So in essence, while you cruise up and down academy in your pimped out ride listening to 50 cent cause it makes you feel young and rebellious, have fun- but don't think I will be part of your midlife crisis. (I’m pretty sure that as I write this, 50 Cent is in the throes of his midlife crisis.)
"Bulletin Boy (or girl)": This person is on your friend's list. Oh yes, you know who he or she is. He or she claims to have a job, but no one believes it based on how many bulletins per day they post. (Ok, so a bulletin was like a Facebook post. But with less angry politics.) Thanks to these bulletins, we all know how old they were when they got their first kiss, that they like the color purple and are afraid to go in the ocean because they are scared of sharks. You know how many CD's they own (oh God, I’m so old), who their first crush was (probably a fucking cave person), and how many times per week they trim their nose hair. Sometimes they post funny bulletins, but usually they post the ones saying, "Bcuz u opened this, ur crush will call u 2nite....if u repost...." Thanks to these people, the rest of the myspace community who has a life and does not repost this, has accumulates 348,219,056 years of bad luck. (Guess we know how we ended up with Trump in 2016.)
"Sucky Independent Band who Wants you to Add their Songs to Your Profile:" This is pretty self-explanatory. The internet is awesome for many things, including, but not limited to: checking email, wasting your employer's money watching U-tube (yes kids, that’s what it was first called), and googling your ex. However, with the advancements in technology and recording devices, any idiot with a guitar and a computer can record a song. Hint to these suck musicians: I could give my dog a keyboard and a microphone and he would sound better than your "art." (Just wait until Soundcloud becomes a thing.)
"Emo (I-Hate-My-Parents-But-They-Still-Pay-For-My-Car) Poser:" This girl has taken hours on end to combine every dark background, icon, and illustration and regurgitate it onto her page. Her headline probably reads something like: "I wish I could drown in my own tears." She usually has a song by Hole, Nine Inch Nails, Marylin Manson, or Garbage, even though she listens to Nelly at school. (Not gonna lie, this sounds too much like me to be close for comfort.)
"Someone's Mom Who Wants to Hook Up:" This woman is well over 40 and has children who probably had to teach her how to use the computer. She fills her miserable existence trolling the internet for hot young guys who were born the year she graduated from college. (They migrated to Facebook in 2011-ish)
"The Happy Couple:" This category pisses me off the most. OK, myspace is FREE. Yes, you can be a couple and be on myspace. That's awesome. You're spouse can (and should be) your #1 friend. Great. But for the love of God, a combined page is GAY as hell. Are you that stupid that you can't figure out a freaking layout and password? Saying, "We like ice cream, sushi, and walks on the beach," isn't cool, it's retarded. To these girls (because it's always the girl who makes the page): In 5 years, you will be stuck with your three kids and your husband will be banging his secretary.
And my MySpace page will still rock. (Fuck yeah it will.)