As I logged into Myspace.com and came to my home page, I came across a "New Message" notification. Just like almost everyone else upon receiving such a notification I was filled with a slight hint of dorky excitement. You never know what lies ahead as you journey into the closest thing to being popular that most of us will ever achieve, The Myspace Inbox. My hopes of filling ten seconds of time were crushed once I was inside my inbox, as I found a message sent by an unknown, picture-less sender. I usually disregard messages and Friend Requests sent by someone so ashamed of their physical exterior that they are lacking in a picture that was taken much too close to their mug and plastered next to a headline they think is clever but instead just shows how their inside jokes and favorite movie lines make them look like tools. In this particular case, I took my chances and opened up the message not wanting to miss out on a possible new venture from someone who could have been complimenting my latest blog, wanting to tell me a dirty joke, or simply wanting to share their growing obsession with my page in general. Instead, I found this:"Heyyyy bebe! sowwwy for the stupid random message..I was surfin around and seen that you live close to where im moving soon..thought we coudl be buddies I dont know anyone there.. dad got a new job anyways im par!s add me on yahoo at paris08551 or on AIM at paris21sound
Being the upstanding gentleman that I am, strongly versed in the proper course of manners taught by my mother, I made sure to send this reply:
It's really cool that you picked me out of all the people on this website to be your newfound friend upon moving to your new location. Unfortunately there are a few problems that might come between our future friendship.
For starters, you chose to call me "bebe" in which I assume you thought was going to be cute. I'm sure that inside your head you pronounce this "baby," but all it made me think about was Patty Mayonnaise's best friend Beebe Bluff from the cartoon show "Doug." She was a purple skinned spoiled brat. Is that how you flirt with people? By calling them names of horrible characters off of cartoons? Why not just go the distance and call me Piglet, Captain Planet, or Rug rat Chucky? If you must call me a nick name from that incipit "Doug" show, then please call me Skeeter.
Secondly, "sowwy" isn't cute when it is slobbered out of an infant's toothless mouth; it most certainly isn't just darling when someone wanting to subscribe to my friendship says it. Your constant spelling errors lead me to believe that you are one of two things. Either you are the type of person who types way faster than their stubby digits actually allows them to type, or you are 14 years old and are completely unaware of how to spell most of the words you chose to use. So, the conclusion remains that you have fat hands or you are jailbait. Now, of all the reasons to go to jail, diddling the doodad of a ripe underage lady is right at the top of my list, right next to diving nude into a big pile of Scrooge Mc Duck like cash. Sadly, your lack of a junior high graduation cap and gown is stretching it even for me.
I am glad your dad picked himself up a new way to gather together enough beer money to emotionally abuse you on weekends, thus leading to you reaching out to total strangers for love and affection. Regrettably, I really don't have room in my life for "buddies." That would entail me entertaining you and introducing you to my friends. From the way you spell your name with an exclamation point, I foresee you immediately asking me to hook you up with them. The thing is, they don't bring me women to help get rid of the condoms that have been in my bottom drawer so long that they actually just had to have a funeral for Great Grandpapa Trojan, so I sure as hell am not helping them.
And finally, you sent me hugs and kisses before even meeting me. That my dear is what is known as online sexual harassment. Quite frankly, I perceive your kisses to be sloppy and your breath in probable need of some watermelon chewing gum.
I hope you sent this EXACT email to 400 other people and you find the person you are looking for. I sadly am just not that in touch with the world of naughty webcams, amateur soft-core porn, and syphilis. But good luck to you on your relentless search of a tour guide. Welcome to our area and hopefully the same ignorant, lonely, and desperate guys who commented on your fake page fulfill your desires of being a two-bit trollop.
The One Who Got Away,