Short post today, and very probably not well thought out.
But, I have a confession to make. You know that little link on my sidebar? The one that tells you cheerily that you, too, can click it and ‘be my friend’ at myspace? I’m addicted to that little underlined linked beauty.
Know why? ‘Cause *deep breath*…I stalk Calgarians. I don’t get out much these days. My friends, well, although there’s always ~something~ going on, it’s rarely due to their own stupidity because they don’t have much of that anymore. None of it is the real gritty type gossip that I miss and that I used to have regular contact with through dating complete f-ups and knowing their friends. None of it is the type of gossip you can acquire 3 pints in while people watching at a crusty (yet popular) pub. Enter myspace.
I read about myspace and the total douchebags that rule it in Vanity Fair. I was, however, amazed. Like shitting, myspace is another in that list of ‘great levelers’. My profile/page is just as accessable as K-Fed’s and his is as accessable as Noam Chomsky’s. We all had to ‘sign up’, we all had to gussy it up the way we wanted, we all have the option to gussy it up more, if we choose. We all write, or dont’ write. We all accept friends, or don’t accept friends. We’re equal in this universe the internet provides us.
Then I found the pictures. Hey! I recognise that guy! Hey! I know that girl! Hey! They write stuff about their lives and, if you read between the lines, it’s pure hilarity…or it’s sad. Sometimes. But so is dirty, dirty gossip…which I love!
If I ruled it, though….I’d ban the option for anyone really over 18 to set it to private. Stuck up bitches.