To the kid in the back row of the library computer lab:

I guess you don’t realize this, but the wall behind you is made of windows. It’s not like I wanted to spy on you, but you’ve left me no choice.

Sure, go on the facebook. How typical. What’s that? No new messages? No one has written on your wall? Uh oh, you’re searching. I bet you wrote down all the hot girls’ names during roll call so you could search for them later. That’s gross dude. Don’t worry though, nine friends is respectable.

Switching to Myspace I see. Nice six letter password. I can’t tell what it is because of the asterisks, but if I had to put money on it, I’d say it was “douche.” Oh, Dane Cook is in your top 8, is he? You guys hang out whenever he’s in South Jersey? I’ve got news for you, buddy: you’re not even in his top 80,000. Yeah, good idea navigating away. Too many tempting pictures of 14-year olds on Myspace for a college lab.

Now you’re checking your fantasy football team. Can’t get in trouble there. Dude, are you serious? You’re so thin at running back and your tight end sucks. No wonder you lost this week.

I see you saw the hot girl walk in too. I bet you were hoping she sat down next to you, weren’t you. Maybe if your hoodie wasn’t so stained, she may have thought about it. Why are you getting up? Time to go? Oh shit! You’re pretending to have computer problems so you can sit next to the hottie! Wow, you’ve got balls. Here’s a tip though, playboy: it’s better to admire them from afar. That way the hotties won’t be able to smell your Taco Bell breath and unwashed undies.

Oops, it’s time for class. Gather up your stuff and jet out of here. Just don’t forget to log out.

Cya next week.