MySpace a place for friends

(pt. 1)

It's pretty much a guarantee that any profile containing small, black, Arial font mixed in with random purple boldness is going to contain a long, winding trail of incoherent babbling, the likes of which could even make a confused Hannibal Lecter look up from his his latest platter of OH MY FUCKING GOD HE'S EATING PEOPLE!

I'm what happens when glam culture goes on a two week coke binge with paris hilton and watches nothing but Party Monster for 12 hours straight and like so many other personality-deficient assholes, I babble abstractly about absolutely everything to create an air of mystery among my confused fans. I however, unlike you, have become a myspace Must-Add and can retract up to over 1,100,000 hits and 9-something thousand people padding my friends list and comments. Call me Moses but I'm parting the sea of fans just to get through the day.

(pt. 2)

Instead of sitting here for hours writing about all the things I like doing and going on about how beautiful I am, I'm just going to cut to the point and say what you DIDN'T want to hear..

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF I MATTER TO YOU!

(pt. 3)

Myspace has become a massive network of over 200 million profiles and is the most contraversial site known to man. While 90% of it's friends' consist of kids adding every profile that comes accross their browser window and trying to gain desprate attention with black hair and a lip piercing claimng to be "different" it all sounds too typical right? Hate to say it but I'M NOT ONE OF THEM people. I'm the other 10% who dosen't care what you have to say and has more hits than a whores pussy. I don't have the time THEY do and I have nothing in common with you. I'm not easily entertained, unless it's DKNY or Addictive I'm probally not going to like it.

(pt. 4)

United States Natioal Security said no more public appearences because last time my fans torched a cop car and TMZ started beating people just to get at me. The pentagon has me on radar just so they can call it a no fly zone and get their helocopters in the air and swarm me with strobes faster than CNN. Scratching and screaming my porcelain skin against the rhinestones just to get every last word out of my mouth of talking shit. God didn't give me a smile for the mouth but a voice for the thoughts. Lights, camera, action, all empty eyes on me.

I'm walking a runway show in Paris. I'm on a stripper pole with Lidsay Lohan. I'm making out with Pete Wentz on MTV. I'm student of the week at beauty school. I'm french scripted on Tommy Lee's ass. I'm crownd winner of the worldwide Olympbitchics. I'm laughing in the backseat of the limo. I'm just that bad of a person.

(pt. 5)

Everything you've heard about me is true,

I sleep with 5 girls a week and maybe even a couple of dudes too. I forget just about everything and I'm out partying every night. My friends are nothing but trouble and we're all going to hell. I'm a attention whore and somewhat Materialistic. I'm a bad person. I'm a saint.

I'm taking over the world