Whose Space?

Oh yeah. Today I got on the Facebook. I have no idea how it really works, or why a person would need to do it, but I was told by a young lady that I absolutely had to have a faceboook page if I wanted to be able to communicate with people like her. And I do. So I did.

It wasn’t hard. But it’s kind of humiliating. You go and fill out all the stuff. And you get a page. It has your profile, you fill stuff in, like your favorite movies and books and music. That part is fine. But then there’s the real reason people do myspace. Friends. You have to ask for them. It’s like third grade all over again, where I had to ask Diane Sorenson if she’d be my friend. In the end, she liked kerri Pregler better than me, anyway.

Then I ask my buddy Dave to be my pal, and hey says yes, which I find out because this little deal pops up. Which is great, but when I click on it, I go to Dave’s Facebook page where he has like a kajillion friends, and I have 1. By the end of the day, he’s got a kajillion and 10 friends and I have 3 . They’re quality people, don’t get me wrong. But I know I have more friends than that, don’t I? And Cassie, who said I have to get on the Facebook? She hasn’t replied to me. Yeesh. That hurts. It’s been, like 2 hours since I “asked” her to be my friend.

I also have this recurring problem.  I can’t seem to keep track of which networking site I’ve ventured into.  I keep calling it myspace.  I guess the Myspace is only for really hip young people who would find it creepy of me to have my own page.


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