Aren�t you guys glad I totally blow things out of proportion?
I recently discovered a hotbed of time-frittering activity, one that threatens to suck me and my time in like a black hole, never allowing either of us to escape. It is called Friendster, and it is dangerous. I mean, it�s wicked fun and it really provides you with a pretty masterful way to waste an entire afternoon that could otherwise have been spent working, but it also allows stupid people like me to look up their loathsome ex-boyfriend from college, only to discover that he�s even hotter than he used to be, thusly destroying my faith in karma and the powers of prayer and black magic, respectively.
Asshole karma. What did I ever do to you?
Of course, I�m so technologically inept that it�s still taking me for damn ever to figure the thing out. I mean, that�s really where all my time is going. Like, I�m all, "What happens if I click on this ico�oops!" and, "Well, shit! How am I supposed to do this? Maybe if I click on�oops!" Well, you get the picture.
And now I�m under an enormous amount of pressure to find the hottest picture of me I can and get it up there. And of course I have, like, no electronic pictures that successfully document me at my hottest. I mean, I�ve got plenty of pictures where the angle was just right so that I look like I might be passing a gall stone, or like I could be seriously medicated (or in dire need of serious medication), but none where I look hot.
I�ve got a couple pictures that pass muster in ancient hardcopy form, but those require a certain amount of scanning and uploading, which would require a certain amount of scanner and technical proficiency, neither of which I have (obviously). Maybe I�ll just copy a picture of somebody famous and upload that. I don�t think anyone will notice. "What are you talking about? That�s totally me! Probably it�s just the angle of the shot that makes me look like someone else."
What? I was in a magazine! Oh, shut up.
Anyway, I really kind of do need something to occupy my time right now, since the alternative is a scary, scary wasteland of work-related projects of mastadonic proportion that all mounted up during my absence. And some of which were, naturally, dumped on me yesterday as a matter of course. Fucking work.
Anyway, if you�ll excuse me, my wife Jennifer and I are needed on the set.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: evil dog fucking And: "unable to have sex" I�m Watching: Jake 2.0, but despite the cuteness of Christopher Gorham, I might be losing interest. I�m Wishing: That all these assignments would stop taking up my valuable web-surfing time.
