Just when you thought you were addicted to checking away messages and profiles (thanks for clicking that link btw you bored bastard or bitch) here comes FACEBOOK. It is the single greatest stalking/boredom controlling/social networking system ever created, far surpassing MySpace. MySpace sucks. It is full of little kids and emo bitches and artsy assholes who have dark backgrounds and terrible indie music 4 people have heard of while their hot-pink font tells their awful stories of woe that no one gives a shit about. It's a half step below having a blog - trust me, I hate myself justly.
Facebook is great to stalk people in your classes, on your college's hockey team, or down the hall. Let's say you meet someone one drunken night, stumble into their rooms and apparently talk about computers, ailienating yourself from that person forever. Seriously, that actually happened, and I'm such a dullard that I was bombed and discussed WINDOWS AND LINUX. If there was a shotgun near by, I'd be admiring the metallic taste before the matter that would process those thoughts were splattered on the near by wall. Back on topic, it is a place to look at that person's name, face, info, and know that you can never look them in the face again. It's a comfort.
Facebook is also great for random messages, but it is not good for poking. What the fuck IS a poke? What does it stand for, mean, lead to? Is it a strange form of flirtation, a simple hi before the commitment of asking for friendship, or just being a douche? Nothing good has ever come from the poke - nothing. There was a senior girl last year who poked me incessantly for no reason. I asked her why she was poking me, but she never answered. She has graduated, moved on with her life, and I sit here, still confused, still e-bruised from her e-poke.
The worst part about facebook is how it has become watered down. Sure, everyone gets the random friend request, where you sit there staring at the screen contemplating whether to accept it or not, debating the pros and cons. Now I see people who have 300 friends as freshman. Unless you are so loose that you make Paris Hilton blush, this is difficult, nay, IMPOSSIBLE to achieve. You should at least know some of the people that are your "friends," or else they'd merely be "play fellows" (thesauruses RULE!).
Moving it to high schools was a great move, too. Now people from all across the nation can harass my girlfriend because she is attractive. Just when I thought I had to be wary of the kids in my hometown and neighboring towns (i.e. anyone who goes to the Palisades, Garden State or Paramus malls) but now horndogs from as far away as Alabama. Facebook, making my paranoia even greater.
Secondly today, I would like to share an embarassing new revelation: I'm going through puberty again. I was checking out my massively large arms one day and I see these long, wispy hairs climbing north on my arm, now at almost shoulder-level. What once stopped at Farmer's-tan-level has now broken down that pigment discrepancy boundry and has started to advance. Even worse than that, the horribly itchy neck hair has started to migrate south for warmer climates, and possibly a ghoulish connection to my chest hair. Eeeeehhhhhhhhh.
Most girls do not know this but the neck hair is the most annoying hair growth one can attain, for it itches like mad and is impossible stop except for two areas. For whatever reason, the first 5 or 6 days of growth, all is well, but then for days 7-9 it burns like ants who are made of fire...or fire ants - either will do. The itch then subsides, leaving one confused. The worst is not over, for in another week it returns, this time with the passion of a thousand suns, before retreating again. Curing cancer? Ha! Start to cure Neck Itch and then we'll see who gets Humanitarian of the Year. Or what about itchy neck cancer....?
Anyway, body hair and I have always had a rather contentious relationship. First off, it never came quick enough. All my friends had leg hair since 4th grade, while I was as smooth as a baby's hairless ass. This lasted until middle school when my body hair felt bad that I gained 60 pounds in a year and threw me a bone. I got no confidence from this since I was hefty and hated myself, but at least if I got a cut on my leg I could have the joy of ripping off 20 hairs as well - surely a blessing in disguise, this leg hair was.
My first realization of hair in that classic spot "where hair wasn't there before" was quite painful, in fact. I have a dog named Whitney, a black lab who is a true Anton - she's lazy and always gets her way. We love her, but she's kinda dumb, vomits on the rug a lot, and leaves her thick dark hair all over the place. After drying myself off in the shower one day, I look down to see, once again, one of her "not good enough" hairs down below the belt. I go to pull it off and realize it is deeply rooted into my skin. I scream, not for pain, but for joy. This is what manhood feels like!
The question I bring to you now, dear readers, is why do these hairs all of a sudden appear, and are so fucking huge? I had not seen my ass for many, many years, probably around 3. One day in Junior year at a hotel room, while going into the shower, I peered into one of those obscenely large mirrors all hotel rooms have and noticed that my entire ass is covered in hair like the floor underneath a man who just had his afro shaved off. Obviously it was a dark day indeed.
More so, I just discovered an island hair in between the two points of the collarbone that lay just beneath the Adam's apple. The thing is solo, with no hair anywhere near it, and is about two inches long. Where does it come from, and how the hell do I not notice? It's akin to someone looking up one day in NY and being like "Chrystler building? What the fuck is that?!"
Dear reader(s), I understand that this blog entry might have been a bit........too personal for your tastes. Fear not, for how else would I realize where the boundries are unless I am to push them like so? If you would like me to stop swaying in the direction of, well, myself, please let me know. Odds are you got this through my profile on aim so im me and be like "hey, douche, I don't care about you or your freakish body hair. and you're ugly." That last part will hurt me, but I guess I deserve it.
Or, hell, if you have any comments at all just drop me a line cause I'm lonely. And sad.
...damn that's a bad way to end things. Well then, we'll end with this: