WHERE THE WEIRD THINGS ARE

I have some great stories to tell this week, which I’ve been putting off for far too long. While I realize that my readership awaits the next full series…something interesting happens, and I get distracted, either with stuff like this or this, or this.

But mostly, I’ve been distracted by…uh…distractions?!

Take this week, for instance. Go ahead—I’m done with it...
.
.
.
.

“WELL…WHILE I’M HERE…”

You see, I was recently encouraged by a musician friend to set up a MySpace profile, for business/networking purposes. Sure, it sounded like a great idea—except that I’d spent the last several months utterly mocking MySpace people.

Then I got an e-mail. It said, “Holiday Greetings From MySpace!”

Apparently, many long nights and haggard months ago, I must have—in a clearly drunk and doped out state—set up an account, and completely forgotten about it. Oops.

But hey, it’s good for business relations, right? Unfortunately, my mind is rarely on business matters, and after sprucing up my page, I spent my next several days flirting with goth chicks far and long into the hazy, addled night. My blogger ladies will be so jealous...


“ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER…”

I also briefly turned into Danny Bonnaduce. The gooey burnt out husks of my fried circuits and broken neural pathways can’t resist the site of purest kitsch. You see, people set up MySpace accounts for inanimate objects. At some point, I ran across a profile that listed “ALCOHOL” as one of their friends. Being somewhat acquainted already, I immediately added “ALCOHOL” as one my friends. Then, I noticed on its profile, that “ALCOHOL” had listed “MARIJUANA” as a friend. This then led me to a page for “LSD.” Again, I added it, only to see “COCAINE” among its friends. I added “COCAINE,” and saw a profile page amongst its friends for “METHAMPHETAMINE.” Hey, MySpace is for connecting with old pals, right?

Thus, in the course of twenty minutes, I became Hunter S. Thompson, and there would be no turning back. I passed on adding “HEROIN,” though. We had a falling out.


“PREOCCUPATIONAL HAZARDS”

One of the gals I was talking to wanted to chat on Yahoo. I hadn’t used Yahoo Instant Messenger in forever. Now I remember why—there are weird things there. A long time ago, I had done an article on the “consensual cannibalism” subculture. I had made a new Yahoo ID for the sole purpose of infiltrating and chatting with them. Apparently, I forgot to kill the profile when the article was done, and a fellow named “Footoeat” IM’ed me out of the blue.

The conversation didn’t last long. Here is the entire transcript (I am Stigmatador):

footoeat: hi
stigmatad0r: GREETINGS FROM THE VALLEY OF THE DAMNED.
footoeat: thank you
footoeat: Saw your profile in sassy group
stigmatad0r: OH. I SEE; THAT EXPLAINS YOUR NON-DE-PLUME.
footoeat: R u into cannibalism?
stigmatad0r: I'M CERTAINLY FASCINATED BY THE SUBCULTURE. HAVE YOU ENCOUNTERED THE DOLCETT GROUP?
footoeat: yes. I ve joined many. But I am looking for someone interested in eating
stigmatad0r: EATING IN OR EATING OUT?
footoeat: eating my feet
stigmatad0r: WHY? DO YOU PLAN ON OFFERING THE REST OF YOURSELF LATER, OR ARE YOU CONTENT TO HOBBLE AROUND ON SHRIVELED LITTLE STUMPY NUBS YOUR WHOLE LIFE? PERHAPS AFTER YOU FIND A WILLING CANNIBAL TO TAKE YOUR FEET, YOU CAN THEN FIND SOMEONE INTO STUMPFUCKING
stigmatad0r: NOT TO BE RUDE OR ANYTHING...
footoeat: goodbye.

People have no sense of humor anymore.

“Futuo sese quasi sese nescio capio a ludo.”

(Sigh) [cue sad Incredible Hulk "walking away" music...]


Tomorrow: My adventures as an Ugly Chick on a singles site. Stay tuned…

)+(