“I’ve been to paradise, but I’ve never been to me.”
First off, let me say that I’ll never understand Myspace politics. I shuffled my Top Friends around to reflect the real-time state of things. I didn’t remove anybody. I simply shifted. And all of a sudden, I’m some asshole? It’s ranked by who I speak to most frequently. That’s pretty much it, but somehow I’ve slighted someone. I didn’t do this…
Anyway, happy 4th of July! I’m starting to think that Michael Bay is my real daddy. Why? Because I f’ing love explosions. Most people would be frightened or the noise might get to them, but I *love* them. No, this isn’t going to be a Transformers post. I haven’t seen it, nor do I have any real desire to, seeing as how my days have been wrapped up in Transformers for the past 3 months…
No, I’m talking about fireworks. My friend Lindsay and I went to the National Mall because I’d never seen the DC fireworkstravaganza. It was pretty awesome. As I sat there, watching beautiful things explode, I didn’t have a care in the world. It was somewhat therapeutic and just what I needed. I’m twisted, I know. Guess I’ll have to bring that up in therapy next week…
I don’t feel slighted. I mean, how could anyone feel slighted?
It’s Myspace.