Why I'm leaving MySpace
Today I discovered that I enjoy instant coffee, and that I have to leave MySpace. Let me tell you why.
Across the street from my Grandparents lives a man by the name of Dane in his late 40s. Dane is disgusting. Two trucks carrying containers are parked on the lawn/weed combination in front of his house. His living room is filled with autoparts. This is all made possible because he lives in an RV parking in front of the house [on a narrow street]. He has dug a narrow but deep hole in his lawn that taps into the septic tank, which he empties his RV into and covered with a cinderblock when not in use. He is squatting in the house, refusing to leave even though his wife, who he is separated from, demands it [it is her house, in her name, and owned solely by her before the marriage].
But that is not the point. Dane can do what he wants. Earlier today, I was in the backseat of a van that was on its way to take my family to dinner together. My Mother was driving, and my Grandfather was in the passenger seat. This conversation took place:
Mom: Did you check Dane's Myspace?
Grandpa: No, I haven't in awhile.
Mom: He added a new blog called "Trust and distrust." Its all about his wife and how she doesn't give him anything and boo hoo hoo. He's such a liar.
Grandpa: Oh, haha. Did you read the comments?
Mom: Yeah, some of them on his page.
Grandpa: No, I mean did you read the comments that he posts on other people's profiles? [emphasis mine]
My grandparents's forty-something neighbor has a MySpace. My Mom and Grandparents read said MySpace, and make snarky comments about it.
Yeah, I think I need to leave MySpace.
Across the street from my Grandparents lives a man by the name of Dane in his late 40s. Dane is disgusting. Two trucks carrying containers are parked on the lawn/weed combination in front of his house. His living room is filled with autoparts. This is all made possible because he lives in an RV parking in front of the house [on a narrow street]. He has dug a narrow but deep hole in his lawn that taps into the septic tank, which he empties his RV into and covered with a cinderblock when not in use. He is squatting in the house, refusing to leave even though his wife, who he is separated from, demands it [it is her house, in her name, and owned solely by her before the marriage].
But that is not the point. Dane can do what he wants. Earlier today, I was in the backseat of a van that was on its way to take my family to dinner together. My Mother was driving, and my Grandfather was in the passenger seat. This conversation took place:
Mom: Did you check Dane's Myspace?
Grandpa: No, I haven't in awhile.
Mom: He added a new blog called "Trust and distrust." Its all about his wife and how she doesn't give him anything and boo hoo hoo. He's such a liar.
Grandpa: Oh, haha. Did you read the comments?
Mom: Yeah, some of them on his page.
Grandpa: No, I mean did you read the comments that he posts on other people's profiles? [emphasis mine]
My grandparents's forty-something neighbor has a MySpace. My Mom and Grandparents read said MySpace, and make snarky comments about it.
Yeah, I think I need to leave MySpace.