Not exactly the most interesting top 10, I know, but I think we can glean a fair bit of info about the ‘statistically average’ person within my network of Friendsters (of which there are 60,000 or some shit - I don’t know, it’s fucking meaningless anyways). Let’s start with a quick rundown first, shall we:
1. What the fuck? This sounds like the name of either a bad Channel 5 reality show or one of those ‘Teach Yourself the 7 Tricks You Need to Know to Fuck Women’ books. Tip for you, cuntwit - if she’s touching your hand and laughing at your shitty jokes as you sit in the wanky pretentious wine bar you thought would impress her out of her skivvies, then you’ll be firing sackfulls of your fetid seed up her by midnight.
2. Aww. Did someone get dumped? Bottle of Absinthe, cheap pills and an even cheaper hooker. That should mend it for couple of days. Until the feeling of dread creeps back in, and you can hear the razor blade calling from the toilet cabinet. “Go on. Do it. You’re worthless. She never really loved you anyway, she just liked your car,” it says, beckoning you in.
3. You too can body pop, headspin and six step your way to fame. If only you can find the right website. Then you’ll show them, you’ll fucking show them all.
4. Here’s a tip for you, if you actually feel the need to do a ‘Hipster Quiz’, you’re not really a hipster, are you? You’re a prick.
5. Hmmm, I’m not sure if this refers to whole ‘Cyber-kid-tech-Goth’ thing, or to the Ben Sherman shirts and Rockport boots ‘Chav-in-his-best-gear’ look. Either way, go to a fucking shop - you’ll need to try the fucking things on to see how much of a cunt you look before you buy them.
6. It’s the name your mother gave you, darling. She was pretty on the money when she named you after some Crackwhore she heard about on the Six O’clock News, dead and limbless in a ditch in Toxteth.
7. Fuck off; you could never be cool enough to have a Pirate name. That’s why you need some random program to generate one for you. Captain Cuntface, that’s yours that is. See, who needs a generator.
8. ‘Emo hair’? I think this is another one like the ‘Hipster Quiz’ above. If you actually need to search out an Emo hairstyle for you to swipe, you canny really be considered ‘Emo’. This is the first one on the list that I could actually envision some of my mates searching for, which is a pretty sad indictment, really.
9. “‘Tests on Emotional Intelligence’ Question 1: Do you search for Tests on Emotional Intelligence on Friendster? If you answered yes to Question 1, you have no Emotional Intelligence.” I actually have done a test on ‘E.I’ before. It was part of some course in work, I don’t really remember. What I do remember though is that it was pretty accurate. It called me a prick. [Note to self - this one isn’t funny]
10. If you have been spending time searching for all this shite, how on Earth could you have time to fall in love? And anyways, love is not a tangible thing, you cannot get some computer program to try and quantify it by asking you probing questions. There is no standard unit for love, no ‘Kilo-amores’ to measure it with. You just fucking know.
So, after that (somewhat lengthy [and somewhat rambling]) rundown, what have we learned? Well, the ‘statistically average’ person in my Friendster network has just been dumped; they’ve then brushed up on their social skills, got a little cooler and tried to learn a few ‘seduction techniques’. A fancy new haircut came next; then they changed their name (ho name for girls / pirate name for guys), learned some dance moves and hit the clubs decked out in their new apparel. The result of all of this was probably a drink and drug fuelled one night stand, which, in the warm and hazy light of the Sunday comedown, blossomed into something meaningful.
They then lived a full and interesting life, ignoring the Internet for the most part, until they were dumped again. At which point the cycle repeats. Ad nauseam.
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