Jun 18 2008
The internet is the devil’s playground, and the swings are mine.
I succumbed to peer pressure from a gaggle of evil teenage girls and became involved in the timesuck that is evaluating astrological compatibility with unattainable men.
(Taurus Who Shall Remain Nameless, you don’t know what you’re missing. All the finest astrology scholars indicate I would Rock. Your. World. “Ecstasy” was mentioned at every click. Just sayin’.)
After obtaining oodles of irrefutable proof that I would make the perfect Mrs. Taurus, I immediately cut the girls off because how CREEPY is it to think that somewhere in the world, some stranger might be slobbering over your picture, looking up your birthday, checking to see if you’re a “love match,” and picking out names for your phantom babies?
Ick.
It’s never too soon for anyone who aspires to have a public presence to begin disseminating misinformation to safeguard one’s future privacy from inappropriately interested parties.
To that end, I’d like to take this opportunity to divulge that I’m really four people. Guys. Big, musclebound guys who wouldn’t mind going back to prison if we had to eviscerate some weirdo online stalker. Want our birthdays? Pictures? Check the FBI’s most-wanted list.
(Incidentally, I checked that list, and there aren’t four big, musclebound guys in the Big Ten. I’m trying to create an intimidating fabricated persona here, dammit. Is it too much to ask that the criminal element pump a little iron to accommodate me?)
Unless, of course, you’re Taurus Who Shall Remain Nameless, in which case I’m one really cute female with no prison record, and my abuse of the internet is endearingly playful rather than creepy…
