Monday, June 13, 2011

…Can I talk my shit again?

So I'm cleaning my room, right? Well, that's what I told people I've been doing at any rate. I've actually been enjoying a bit of Me time locked away here in my admittedly messy ass inner sanctum. Y'know, catching up on my much needed beauty sleep[1] and sorting my nail polish collection and things of that nature. The finer things in life if you will.
That is, however, until I got bored enough to hijack Egg’s laptop and logged onto Aintshit Social Network # 3:
For the people out there that’re blissfully unaware, Tagged is a bit like MySpace meets Black Planet in terms of ratchet nutfuckery. It’s the type of site that makes you wish you could give yourself a real life virus scan in terms of general skeeviness. In short: it’s an awesomely bad place to hang out when you’re bored and it’s filled with the sorts of things that’ll make you love and loathe the Internet.Okay, mostly loathe it, but still. I can’t call it all bad. There’re actually quite a few decent people on there. Quite a lot of thirsty gentlemen in search of a good quenching, but hey, that’s the Internet for ya. If my DM inbox on Twitter could talk…
So there I was, lounging on my bed, listening to Gemineye’s Penny for your Thoughts on YouTube when I looked at my notifications and noticed that I had new messages. I clicked the link hoping that someone that I could actually stand had written me a message and let loose a string of curses that would’ve made the proverbial sailor blush when I found out who it was.
You see, for the past day and a half or so, this fool has been harassing me. At first, I thought it was funny in a pathetic sort of way, but now…
Not so much, no.
Dude has sent me a ton of messages—upwards of two and three at one time, smfh—and trying to get the exact order of things down has me confused, but here’s the latest round of What the Fuckness that he’s been sending me,
(Read from the bottom up; you know the deal)

Oh. Did I forget to mention that he thinks I'm suppose to marry his ass? Yeah. I guess I did. 

Noticing that I changed my name to “Kyrie Eleison”, he sent a separate message asking if this is in fact my real name

By now, as I’m sure you understand, I was losing my cool, so when he sent me this
I decided to reply with
Which somehow turned into this
(You may have to click to enlarge these last few messages)

To which I replied

And he fired back with
I have no intention of responding by the way. I’m not too big a fan of being sexually harassed online.
I think the moral of today’s story is that the Internet can be a wonderful place full of many joys and wonders, boys and girls. But, if you happen to be me, it’s usually like the club on those rare occasions that I decide to go: full of horny, crazy old bastards.
Anyway doe.
If you’re one of the few people that’s been wonderin’ why I haven’t posted on here—I know, it shocked me to find out that people actually cared, too—you can find me sporadically posting over at The (Infamous) Life: V. 2.4.

1 if you’ve seen me recently (…or at all) you would understand what I’m saying here is the absolute truth.