Sunday, February 05, 2006

I've got too many brain cells for MySpace methinks...

Been on MySpace for almost a year. For the most part, I like it. It's allowed me to reconnect with people I haven't seen in ages and keep track of friends that move away.

I could chuck the rest to be honest.

I got a friend request from a girl saying, "Just checkin out ur profile, If u wanna b friends just hit me up sometime." The picture was of a reasonably cute early 20's girl wearing a tight tee shirt and sucking a frozen popcicle. Instead of appealing it was appalling to me.

The bad grammar didn't help either.

It's sad, I couldn't tell if she's a serious friend request or a stealth ad for a dating web site. I don't answer friend requests from people I don't know anyway, but once in a while I get these requests along the lines of, "U cute, me want to meet you. Nothing serious," and it makes me want to spay and neuter a huge cross section of the population on the site.

Browsing through MySpace I see too many profiles with people trying way too hard to be sexy. Welcome to MTV World, where skank is akin to Nirvana.

I miss subtlety.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

Thank you "Me from Two Weeks Ago"

I hope by now you all know the story about the shoe maker and the elves that would make shoes at night to help him. The shoe maker could not make ends meet so the little buggers cobbled shoes together and voila...in the morning the guy had merchandise to sell. He'd always wonder how he would make these shoes in his sleep.

The other day at work I was asked to do something only to find I'd done it already and completely forgot about it. I've had this since I was a wee little one. I remember one time in high school I'd forgotten to do bring a book the teacher had asked us to bring only to find it hidden away in one of the many caverns in my backpack. Once I needed bus fare only to find I had put some money in a pocket of my jacket that I never check.

It's almost like I'm conspiring against myself in a good way. My sense of timing and my selective amnesia work together to bail my ass out of trouble without my knowledge.

I half expect to one day find a treasure chest full of gold with a note that says,

"Dear J,

Pay your debt, take a vacation, and when you come back, start a business.

Love, J from Three Years Ago."