Saturday, September 09, 2006

My Stalking Space, with a bit of Another

I stumbled upon MySpace recently, in searching for information on something or someone I can't recall right now. (Maybe the winner of "Top Chef"? Yes, that's it. He was supposed to open a restaurant in NYC and I was curious as to the status, and when I searched for a website all I could find was his MySpace page.) Anyway, I was surprised to see that I still have a profile. I created it a few years ago, when one of my friends insisted I do so, in order to increase his friend network. It had been a long time since I visited (it still has my AOL address, which I dropped almost two years ago), and I was surprised to discover I had 47 emails. Many of which were gentlemen (well, not so gentle) wanting to get to know me. Some of which included somewhat lurid descriptions of how they wanted to get to know me. More of which were marked with very bizarre-looking photos. There also was, from just a month ago, an email from a woman about my age interested in talking about books (which I listed as an interest.) I don't know. I just deleted all of them. But I didn't delete the whole profile. I don't know why.

Of course I had to go and check out my friend's page, as he and I are no longer in communication and I was curious if I could see what he is up to. But he hasn't really updated much, either; a few blog entries from early 2005, but that's it. The most interesting news was that one of his friends is now fronting a band. I went to hear her sing once and thought she was terrible. I probably was prejudiced to not like her singing, though, as I never really liked her. She was very young, a transplant from a midwestern state here to make her fame and fortune in the city, and met my friend in an acting class. She had badly bleached blonde hair and fake-looking (I never asked) boobs and played this sweet innocent farm girl persona even as she swore like a trucker. I met her mother once, and should not have been surprised to hear every third word out of her mouth starting with an "F." But all that aside, what I mostly didn't like was that she wasn't very interesting. You couldn't really have a conversation with her because she knew nothing and had no curiosity about anything. My friend loved her, in that way that some gay men flock to trashy-dressed women, but it got to the point where I'd avoid occasions where it was just the three of us doing something.

I heard her sing at a 9/11 "benefit" a few weeks after it had happened. It was put on by the record label where she was a temp, and basically was employees at an open mike, with friends in the crowd making donations for an unnamed charity. The emcee was stupid enough to refer twice to what had happened as the World Trade Center "bombing" which just pissed me off. It was bad enough that he seemed flippant about the entire thing, but to not have a grasp on what had just happened seemed vulgar.

I love that Blogger spellcheck doesn't know MySpace (it offers "misshapes"), but this could be my writing it as one word. But why does the spellcheck not know "boobs" but offer "boobies" as a suggestion? I really want to meet the dude that wrote that dictionary.


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