You can tell a lot about a person by looking at their list of friends on MySpace. It's like an instant snapshot of their soul. We may have little in common, but we all have Tom. And Breakfast at Tiffany's. A thing that cracks me up about MySpace is how intentionally fickle it is. On every screen where you can interact with a friend – read a comment, read a post, read a message – there is a button that says "Delete From Friends." Vicious and cruel. As for me, I'm pretty particular about whom I friend. (That's right, I used friend as a verb. Deal with it.) Most friend requests get marked as Spam. If you make it through, however, then once I friend you it's for life. (Unless, of course, I find out that you're just friending me to promote your porno website. Where business is concerned I'm fairly cutthroat. I never friend the competition. Some people try to tell me that this blog is not really porno. Those people obviously don't understand me.)
On another note: My tires have pattern baldness, so I'm going to have them replaced. (How's that for fickle?) Let's be honest. Where the rubber meets the road, baldness matters. If I get new tires, it's because there was a traction there that just isn't there any more. My car has almost one-hundred-thousand miles on it (that's like five or seven million kilometers, if memory serves,) so it's time I retired it. It was inevitable. Being Japanese, my car wears a little rubber. It's okay, though. The motion is smooth.
See?
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
