It seems to me that I have mentioned "Madison" a few times without making clear that it is the name of the town that my house is in. Now that I have said this, I will continue being unclear.
The story you are about to maybe read is true. The avatars have been changed to protect the innocent me from internet weirdos' parents' lawyers.
MySpace. You'll be shocked, but I hate that, too. If you don't know what that is, good. Do not read this. Never find out. Go eat broccoli. You'll enjoy it more. Especially if you actually like eating broccoli.
If those things weren't enough (and I mean to assure you they are), it also is impossible to use in a sentence without sounding foolish. You would do as well to call it MyLittlePonySpace. At least that way you might grasp the slightest bit of remaining free, non-regurgitated Vh1-approved nostalgia. Plork, my sister ventured to some place selling Care Bears gunk manufactured this year, so hold on to whatever you can, I say. If you lose it and want it back, you're either going to have to pay twice what it's worth new or eight times what it's worth old.
In 2004 I was told "you should get one of these" in regard to a Live-Journal, by two people both fully aware of this website here. Maybe they thought the more limiting format would force me to condense and reduce these things into a more socially acceptable and mass consumable form. Instead, I just did not use it. Tell me this was worth the trouble. I did not respect you anyway. That is why, when the same fine citizens and also another one tried to force theirspace onto me, I did what I could to resist. Even if I did trick someone to come here through one of those, it would probably be an illiterate mirror-posing goon anyway.
Yoy, why do they always pose in the trashiest mirror-room available? They cannot find a minimally supervised hotel wedding to borrow the use of one from?
If one fears mirrors or merely claims itself to be a vampire and so will not admit to reflecting, it will be an eerily forward staring mutant, whose dominant hand seems to reach almost forward, grabbing at something just beyond one edge of the picture. I suppose that means the people are holding cameras with those hands, but I feel like they're grabbing me instead, and that can be scary with certain people.
The server is always "busy," but it won't admit that until you've seen the ads, whose server is never busy. When I have to wait two minutes for each page, and have to go through a page with just an advertisement first, that's four minutes of waiting per attempt. I could have beaten Donkey Kong in that time. But I hate Donkey Kong. So I keep waiting.
I used to worry that I spend too much time using computer machines, but it turns out every acquaintance of every person I'm related to spends twelve to twenty-five hours per day asking what is up and, I assume, waiting for stuff to be up on MehSpace. Every hair bleaching, chain-smoking, chain-wearing, nose-piercing goth goof in the whole village has its own space, and that seems to me the best reason yet for me to stay the gump away from there.
You can tell that's a background worth seeing at all times.
A lot of themspaces are more analogous to the geocities template pages of yore than more recently popular diary factories, so it's sort of like the internet's first retro-phase. Except now the obnoxious imbedded java applets are written under the assumption that every person has broadband internet rather than everyone but me (what happened to the good old days when people used highspeed connections for software and movie piracy?). Also: lots of pink. Always. I once wore a pink and yellow striped shirt at school, and my room's teacher made fun of me. And I was twelve years old. And in the special education program. How do these bozoids get away with it? If all things are not pink, that probably just means whoever is in charge has not figured out how to change the default settings yet.
While it is true that the person whose space it is selects the colors for all of that page's comments, the commentors do not protest the palette-swapping of their own words, and often exhibit similar preferences when given the same choice. I do not remember if this one did or did not. I just found the strike-through effect interesting. And conducive to reading.
Hey, how about those fancy links which bloat themselves and adjust the whole page layout everytime a mouse cursor passes by them? Those are something. Something bad. Oh, thnap.
At first I thought: Maybe they like to pretend those two objects beside each other resemble sideways heart-shapes with gaps at their equators, those being indispensable assets to all great writers, but then I found out that MySpace provides fools with a means to display properly oriented heart-shapes sans gaps as plain text items, so the less-than-three-philosophy theory has no choice but to be true.
In an act of denial regarding all the pop-up advertising junk on this website which I command in most aspects beside that one, usually I view pages in Netscape, but I know there are a lot of visual internetting features not supported by it.
This sort of thing, you know. Unless you are using Netscape also.
Ha ha ha. No.
Translation: I do not know what "boycott" means.
Most people list shows they watch, but I suppose you could define the word or explain how a cathode ray tube works if you want. Bhuneayah, there are no such rectangles for food, weather or architechtural preferences. Personal accomplishments? The overlords assume, correctly, I suppose, that if you are using MehSpace at all, you are not making any. Maybe that's a lot of the appeal of the whole thing. By not being prompted to mention a thing they do well or an unusual thing they enjoy, persons cannot be made to feel bad about lacking one.
Ehhh, who gives a pringle that you've been 0n a train, really? Who wants to know that? Who wants to know that who also wants to know if you have run into a wall? Well, at least you've never burned a p0tat0 chip. I do that all the time.
Wait, does right now count?
What is great about pink letters: Regardless of the background's brightness level they still look horrible.
Sometimes, only approved persons can even read the spaces. I will occasionally allow "private" livejournals, as sometimes certain people want to tell only certain persons certain things, and in rare situations may even be justified in thinking anyone else gives a clobbered lobster what they're saying, but no one on MySpace typically has anything deeper to say than
Not that they don't try sometimes...
some of them do not need the help.
Now that you mention it, I'm sick too. Sneeze! Vomit! Donner and Blitzen!