Life is a series of humiliations designed by some cosmic trickster who desires to watch the ego shrink and flatten until it disappears. But then you're dead, which I suppose is the big joke.
I am speaking, of course, of technological needful things such as computers and cell phones and remote controls. They all appear to be so necessary; and yet people such as myself, people who were annoying teacher's pets and Miss Thing of the Land of Dean's Lists back decades ago, who grew egos from a remarkable ability to identify gerunds and participles and split infinitives and who would never, ever write such run-on sentences as this back in the day - people like me ride the short bus of technology today, pitied by small children who can slay online monsters in fourteen dimensions while instant messaging nine of their best friends and simultaneously downloading a half-dozen songs.
Translation: Myspace is driving me crazy. I can never discern whether I'm sending a private request for an interview or publishing it for the online public to see. My printer is not working. I long for a pre-computer world even as I spew Pavlovian saliva while booting up the Dell. I even wish for a pre-Myspace world, when potential interviewees had to hire their friends to develop websites and publish e-mail addresses. It's all so consolidated now via Myspace, so convenient and frightening. And my daughter's sixteen year old friends have the most sophisticated pages, while the elders don't have fourteen hours/day to choose the proper layout and hipster user name and coordinating colors and twenty photoshopped pictures. Oh God, am I jealous of teenagers now?
This is what you have reduced me to, Myspace... a bitter woman with a mediocre web page.
But other than this, things are just peachy.
NTD
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