I've only been back to the Wonderful World of Myspace for what? a day? maybe two??? and already it's been Open Season for weirdos. I'm sure this is why the term is "Stranger" and not "non-acquaintance."
First, there was Stranger Scott, who was a little confused that I listed my location as "The Devil's Buttcrack" and wanted some clarification. Sure, yeah, I'll give him that. Next up in the line of queries was "ru single?" Um, ru kidding? I'm sorry, call me old fashioned, but if you don't have the time, let alone the attention to detail, required to type out the extra FOUR LETTERS to make that sentence grammatically correct, then buddy, there's no way you've got the time and attention-to-detail required to make it to first base* with me. (*Second base if I'm drunk, I ain't gonna lie.) As if that wasn't enough, he closed the email by signing his name as "Scotti". Nick-names, sure they're endearing. I go by mine all the time! But, I don't know, maybe save it until you've exchanged the introductory email? And what's with the i instead of the traditional y? Something about the i immediately emasculates him in my mind, and aside from that, I'm totally annoyed. I think I've got Irritable Vowel Syndrome.
Next up: Someone with a picture of Prince Charming as his default photo, with the title "You Know The Name". No, actually, I don't know the name, but if I had to guess it would be Something Is Wrong With Me Because I'm 32 And Have A Disney Cartoon of a Prince As My Photo. (Maybe that was just too long.) Mr. Latent Homosexual (Or Child Molester) told me I was stunning despite the fact that I have no nose in my default picture. He'd also really appreciate if I would holla back at him. Unfortunately, I'm all out of holla at this present time. (Maybe I should have linked him to Jesse?)
Next came Jonathan, who at first I thought might be Jonathan I Actually Know In Real Life. Alas, it was Stranger Jonathan, who just wanted to know "Whazzzzup and where da party at? I see you around town and at your work and you be fly." Um. Yeah. Da party is at the police department, where I'll be filling out a restraining order.
Most disturbing, however, is Rocky. Rocky wanted to know if I would like to earn an extra $200-$600, because he has piles of money to give away and really likes to see how crazy people will get for it. I think I've heard about that somewhere, and I think it's called Prostitution, but I'm not sure. Now, on rare occasion I'll talk to just about anybody who sends a drink my way, but that's just manners, ok? Something about a stranger dangling money over my head under the condition that I do something crazy for it just makes the Weirdometer go off. People do it on Fear Factor all the time, yes, but they also do it on Indio Boulevard, and I just got the feeling that Rocky's definition was less "eat a cockroach" and more "eat my cock."
Why, just in the time it took me to write this, I got a friend request from this really lame boy band and an invitation to join the group Frankie's Pimp House. The Pimp House got denied, but I'm actually considering adding the band, just in case I can be around when they all realize that trying to pull of heterosexuality is futile and they're in love with each other.
If this is any indication of what MySpace is going to be like, all I have to say is I'm damn glad to be back. Sure, it was nice taking a break, but I was running out of people in real life to make fun of. I used to say that it interfered with my writing, but I'm going to use this post as evidence to the contrary.