"Are you on myspace?"

I don't want a myspace account.

No, no, no! I am horrendous at replying to emails, I rarely update this blog, and I can't even figure out how to upload a picture to my profile. I am not in a band, promoting a movie, a reality TV star, a teenage girl, or a middle aged pervert. While I understand that it is a convenient place to advertise that I might have friends, that kind of validation is not necessary in my world.

Way back in the day, I was forced onto friendster. Again, why? It is a lumbering dinosaur of a site with no redeeming value. I have a friend there that does nothing but add more and more pictures. To this day, she is still beating that dead horse. While I am amused at her photoshop skills, enough already. I don't know anyone who has made a new friend, acquaintance, or love connection. In fact, I know more people who have met by way of craigslist.

At this point, to get a myspace account would be weak. I have no need for being bleeding edge, nor do I care about what's the what, but I refuse to buy a ticket for the 2:45 bandwagon. I would rather climb into my wayback machine and jump back to 2003. That way, I could hit myspace when there was a modicum of hipster appeal. Oh, wait. I can't. No matter. Now that it is owned by Rupert Murdoch, it is way past over.

Just like I will remain one of those few that have never seen Titanic, I will be that girl without a myspace account.

I can only hope that my loved ones will understand, and support my decision.

feminist ha-ha

Usually, I don't watch Jay Leno. I think that his jokes are designed for trucked-in tourists who've been standing in the sun too long, and I find it appalling that he still makes cat-fight noises directed at any of his female guests who express a strong opinion about anything.

It was by chance that his show was on in the background when Jay introduced his next guest, Annika Sorenstam. I watch as much golf as I do Jay Leno, so I wasn't expecting the chuckles. Color me surprised.

Sorenstam was speaking about playing golf with her buddy Tiger Woods. She said that they would get very competitive, and would make bets on the game. When asked if she would ever win, she went on to say, "Sometimes, but I only get seven-tenth of what he gets."

That is what we call a zinger. Unfortunately, Jay's audience didn't get the funny.

Shame.