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September 04, 2003
Wanksta
Anne Morrow Lindberg once said, “The most exhausting thing in life is being insincere.” Or you can just borrow a line or two from my most favorite 50 Cent (everybody holler G Unit, I say). "You ain't a friend of mine. You ain't no kin of mine."
I know right. Using quotes now? I was just completely enamored with these quotes I found in this Consciousness in a Can thing. I thought it was a little fitting. And since I’m already a geek for having a weblog, I might as well take it to that next level of anathema and use a “fitting quote.”
In the wardrobe closet at work two days ago, during a lull, one of the wardrobe ladies was telling us about how she knows a girl who listed Special K as one of her hobbies on Friendster. I wasn’t familiar with Special K, and I had only read the word Friendster in Newsweek once. It was mentioned in such a way where it was so obvious and everybody must know about it. Yet again, I felt out of the loop and not very cool. I always find out about things last. I used to be one of those pop culture fiends and I knew about everything just because, and not because I was seeking that information out. I just knew random shit. I’ve housed all that information to this day. If they do an I Love the 90s, I’ll know all the answers (even though they’re not really asking any questions, but still). Just last night, my boyfriend and I were going off about old television shows. I hadn’t heard the words Boner Stabone in a while.
Anyway, nobody knew what the wardrobe lady was talking about so we needed some explanation. I only stayed for the explanation of Friendster. By the time she had moved on to explain Special K, I was too busy pilfering craft services. Do you remember those little salty crackers that came four to a package with a little red spreading wand and a little dollop of cheese whiz? They had those that day, and I was only too happy. They still make those! By the unanimous disgusted face looks in the room, I gather Special K is wack.
So, work is over and I head to my boyfriend’s house. I know, I know. Go straight to your boyfriend’s right after work forgoing the ritual cleansing! I know. He was five minutes away and I had my entire beauty arsenal with me in the trunk for some reason. I forget why. So yeah, I wasn’t tripping and showing up all not fresh without a plan of action. Fellow product whores, you doubt me? I walk in and his roommate is sitting at the computer talking about Friendster. He has an account. So I said, “Whoa, that’s crazy. We were just talking about that at work!” I still didn’t fully understand the concept. I got lost at this part: So his friend’s friends know her friend’s friends know her friend’s friends. I’m thinking it’s just a tangible way to see the six degrees of separation thing or something? So, his roommate starts showing me around and I say, “Can we look people up!” He says we can.
So we start typing in random names and finding people we know who have Friendster accounts, who have gone through the difficult process of finding pretty or artistic pictures of themselves and posting them. I personally hate almost all my pictures so I don’t know how these people do it. So then, he types in my name and what the fuck? A picture of me and a profile appears! Hysterical. The bio was stolen from this here page. And then there was a message talking about, “I’ve only been on Friendster for two hours and I have so many replies!” I must admit this part did make me chuckle. I'm banning chuckle from this point on. And then I actually had 6 friends. I did know one of the dudes Kevin, a Filipino homie of mine, but the other people I didn’t recognize and the computer was too slow to go into their accounts and research. My boyfriend and the roommate were like, “That’s fucking psycho!” I didn’t really care too much that it was psycho. I was more concerned with the fact that an imposter is sending out emails as me. What if they misspell or use improper grammar?
It’s just bizarre. What are the chances that I’d be talking about Friendster on the same night that my boyfriend’s roommate is looking at Friendster online and on the same day that the imposter created the account? Oh, did I mention that? The person had just created the account the day that we found it. Now, I personally wouldn’t sign up on a website where you had to post pictures of yourself or be rated or share your hobbies. That makes me way too nervous. I don’t need to meet new people. I’m busy with my potpourri of friends as it is. And sometimes, I like to go missing to avoid flaking, a terrible quality. If questions about my whereabouts persist, I usually use my standby line of, “Shit, man, I have Sprint. You know how that goes…”
Anyway, off to a bingo game tonight. I call, Coral plays. No, we won't cheat. Maybe. What's the prize again?
Posted by melissah at September 4, 2003 02:51 PM