Fayner Posts: MySpace sucks, I’ve come to discover. It’s worse than any drug you can smoke, snort, drink or shoot; mostly because its free and is always there for you…waiting.
I just don’t get it. The whole community seems to be just for people who love themselves and the people who love people who love themselves. Guys just want to see pictures of slutty chicks, and chicks just want to see their picture on some rock star’s top friends list. More pathetic even are the ones who gain celebrity from this site. There must be something better to do with your time, don’t you think?
The chick who has been staying here for a few weeks, Dakoda Brookes, is one of the people who loves themselves. If given the chance I think she could stay on the computer for at least 24 hours and not leave Myspace. She is the ultimate myspace whore.
“But would you blow Myspace Tom?” I asked her as she frantically pounded on the keys.
“No!”
I decided to play a little with her: “You know I went to college with Tom, right? We lived on the same hall. I should call him and tell him you won’t blow him!”
“You don’t know Tom!” she hollered while never taking her eyes off some Hollywood douchebag she thinks is hot.
“Dez, you wanna help me here?”
“He knows Tom, Dakoda. Hey, fayner, you should call him and tell him to take her profile down!”
“No!” she screamed, now focused on me in anger.
“We used to do that to people all the time. Tom loves deleting profiles and then thinking about them crying over it. I’m gonna call him right now!”
“Please don’t call him! I have so many pictures up there! Please don’t call Tom!”
I said I wouldn’t call MySpace Tom and delete her profile as long as she never mentioned myspace again. She said she wouldn’t.
She did.
So I wrote the story.
[ed note: I am well aware of my crabby attitude towards everything. My twilight years suck. I think I need to start doing drugs again.]