MySpace Whore

It is official: I am a MySpace whore. After joining Friendster and spending countless hours searching for losers I lived with in the dorms and guys I made out with once freshman year and then never saw again (what's up, random guy from Joe's whose name I later found out because you worked in my dorm library!), I vowed not to get sucked into any other online social sites. And then last week, my cousin wanted to tell me a story, but she had already written it out on her MySpace account and told me I had to join MySpace and look at her profile if I wanted to hear the story. So basically, I was forced at proverbial gunpoint to open an account.

So now I am on MySpace and I've wasted even more time on it than I ever did on Friendster. And I am obsessed with getting friends (because clearly, the number of friends you have online is directly correlated to the number of friends you have in the real world, and thus directly related to how good you should feel about yourself as a person). I recognize that I am pathetic. And yet somehow, I do not care. But this, too, shall pass; within a week, I'll likely be bored and move on to trolling AOL chat rooms for underage boys (I keed, I keed). But in the meantime, if you are on MySpace, you should, like totally be my friend, because I'm friends with the Postal Service and Kevin Federline, which makes me totally cool, and you can be cool be association if you are my friend.