To Whom It May Concern,
After an unnecessarily long hiatus originally induced by an interstate move and then prolonged by a couple of naps, I had hoped to return–somewhat triumphantly–to the internet today with a post full of pictures! And even sarcasm!
And then, as you might be observing right now, my site imploded with some kind of weirdness that keeps changing and has yet to be cured and I’ve started calling it AIDS. Yeah. My site has AIDS right now. Hopefully, it’s the Magic Johnson kind, but regardless of the variety, I’m pretty sure there will be a slight delay, making my return somehow less triumphant, which is total garbage because I love triumphant returns almost as much as I love run-on sentences.
Since I don’t want to post any pictures–for fear they will be removed or impossible to enjoy because of this bullshit–and I just made a (probably) offensive reference to AIDS, I thought I’d take a second to say hi to Liz (of Jupiter, FL), because I know this hiatus has left her feeling hurt.
Liz: I am very sorry. I have complete confidence that we will be reunited in the near future. Please know that I love you, even though we’ve never met, and that soon we will be together. Forever. (Don’t worry. It’s not creepy, because I didn’t narrow my eyes and use a weird voice…that you know of.)
And to anyone else that reads this, please come back soon. I probably love you, too (unless you’re the guy that invented site AIDS or Tropical Flavored Skittles). Would you read a Friday post? Site AIDS will likely (hopefully) be cured by Friday (I think.)
Step 1: After hearing persistent chatter about the best, newest, prettiest, most special social networking site Jesus Christ himself will ever know, you finally get an invitation.
Step 2: Plot world dominance with your new-found feelings of superiority.
Step 3: Log in to create a profile, and realize that the rumors of Google+’s magic have been greatly exaggerated. Then realize that you only know about seven people on the site, and immediately feel burdened by the task of putting those seven people into “circles.” These circles will force you to evaluate your relationships with each of these people and induce unnecessarily philosophical questions about the difference between a friend and an acquaintance, leaving you feeling hollow and defeated.
Step 4: Accept the paradoxical reality that the only way Google+ could be a successful resource is if everyone you know joined it, which would ultimately ruin its appeal. Abandon your dream of Google+ being a new land of milk and honey. Feel daunted by the responsibility of maintaining yet another profile somewhere on the internet. Become deeply depressed.
Step 5: Check Facebook, because even though you hate Facebook, it’s where everyone you know actually is.
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