It’s not entirely me on MySpace
by April E. Clark
I’ve taken my nosiness to a whole new level.
And I’m not the only one.
After a fair amount of coaxing, I’ve joined the thousands of MySpace addicts online with my very own retro-styled profile. I’m now connecting with long-lost friends (some who work in the same building as me), looking at some guy named Bob’s family Christmas pictures, and denying friend requests from total strangers.
It’s all part of the MySpace game.
My friend Eddie says the initial few weeks of having a MySpace profile are the most obsessive-compulsive moments of the experience. He says that will eventually taper off.
I guess you could say I’m in the honeymoon stage. But this time my husband is the shirtless hot guy on Eddie’s space with a strategically placed Absolut Vodka bottle in his lap.
I always liked blonds.
Unfortunately, like any marriage, the dishes will start to pile up and the urine-sprinkled toilet seats will need to be cleaned. Then I will be totally over the experience.
Or maybe not.
I’m already kind of freaked out by total strangers who want to be added as my friend. I’m not sure what that’s all about, but all I know is if I’ve never met you, the friend add is not happening.
Unless you’re Peyton Manning, Gwen Stefani or LL Cool J. They can be my friends any time.
I’ve always been a little gun-shy about people knowing too much about me. Ask all my ex-boyfriends. But since I have this column every week, and now a MySpace page, I’ve been letting it all hang out.
I most enjoy throwing people off by not answering the profile questions seriously. Like a shot of bad tequila, my MySpace profile should be taken with a grain of salt.
More like a heavy sprinkling on the neck of the opposite sex.
For example, when asked my favorite movie, I said snuff films. Considering the amount of creepy stalkers who use MySpace for their own personal enjoyment, that probably wasn’t the greatest of ideas. So, after a disapproving friend suggested I might not want to advertise the enjoyment of porn resulting in violent death, I changed it to anything with Patrick Swayze.
It was a toss-up.
I say that my body type is a body builder and my hero is Rick Allen ” the one-armed drummer from Def Leppard. Duh.
I also list jazzercise, miniature golf, wet T-shirt contests, and cosmic bowling as interests. Two of them are true, but I’m not going to say which.
My most addictive aspect of MySpace is the friend comments. This is as much fun as passing notes in middle school, but better because each post has the person’s photo. My favorite comment so far has been my friend Deja’s response to my mention of loving Chuck Norris. She asks, “Did you know Chuck Norris’ tears can cure cancer? Too bad Chuck Norris never cries.”
The older I get, the less mature I seem to be.
As the weeks progress, I’m hoping more people jump off the proverbial MySpace cliff and join the fun. Just today, I went to a link for Purdue alum and saw that there’s a “Your favorite bar at Purdue” forum topics to discuss.
That’s some serious dialogue.
I’m also looking to “pimp my space,” as the saying goes, and add some really cool features to my profile. There’s that that “Sexy Lips” and “Baby Girl” glitter ” sparkly graphics for MySpace novices and haters ” that is so me.
OK, not really.
But I am looking to add “Ghetto Superstar” by Mya and ODB to my profile’s music.
That screams April in Glenwood’s MySpace.
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