Whoa, I'm Like...Um...Kinda Cool?

I won't even belabor the fact that I still go on Myspace. You guys know. All of you should be my friends. Jess Fletch and Alex are. V will never be, because she was smart enough to stay away from that virtual black hole before she and her blossoming social life could get sucked into it like Kool-Aid through a makeshift grape flavored Twizzler straw.

But apparently I am making some kind of internet killing. I am now a part of the Hottest and Coolest Ladies of Myspace. Whoa. I am fifth out of 30 ladies. I guess that is kind of cool, but also really intense.

It's hard at the top. The air is thin, so you have to add extra minutes to your recipe's baking time (there's always a lemon bar floating around my place!), and sometimes people who don't even know your last name hate you, so you have to kill them, and it gets kind of lonely so you have to masturbate more often, which requires an inhaler because you cough a lot since the air is thinner.

But then when you look out over the mountain top into the golden horizon, you feel okay, because you made it, albeit scratched up, bloody, bruised, and still trying to stop picking your scabs, in one piece. Which is cool, because a lot of people fall apart way down at the bottom while your sipping your bubbly, eating pigs 'n a blanket, and watching Super Troopers.

Myspace is weird. Word.

Deuces,
Erika