So when I’m at work and I’m looking to not think for a few minutes (read: waste time on the internet), I check out my friends’ blogs. When that gets old (maybe they haven’t updated for while), then I read news sites. If that’s boring, I look at fashion blogs (kind of my job, anyway). And then, if I’m really trying to avoid work and I’ve run out of all other options, I like at the Missed Connections on Craigslist.
If you enjoy poor grammar and spelling, you will extract boundless levels of fun from Missed Connections. “I saw u on Broad Street. U had nice tities.” That sort of thing. Or this one (which I promptly sent to Janelle with the subject “is this you?”:
:i was walking by the Digital Ferret on 4th street. I cant remember which day it was though, I’m on alot of prozac.
You were dressed in a vinyl trenchcoat with chains hanging down everywhere. I could barely make out your figure, much less your face with all the piercings.
you’re somewhere between 5’1 and 6 foot – couldnt really tell, ’cause of the giant platform boots.
you kind of reminded me of Marilyn Manson. pre-breast implants (no-offense…)
you probably didn’t notice me, because I hate everyone and prefer to just loom ominously in the background wherever I go. but if you give me a chance, maybe i’ll give you one.”
Lately on Missed Connections, there’s been some sort of pissing contest regarding vegan punk bicyclists being poseurs or not cool or something. I can tell that only boys are participating in this internet battle.
This is how it all began:
“Shut the fuck up, and let real grownups try to connect with their missed connections. You all think you are so unique, but I’ve never seen such a lame cult of posers since the early to mid 90’s. You all look the same, smell the same, and act the same. Go vote for Obama, so he can give all of the working people’s tax money to failing companies that make shit products. (And get a fucking shower too, and some new clothes, jesus christ) It’s so cliché anymore. Every other post has the word “Fixed gear” written somewhere in it. Get a life, and a job. ”
Why am I convinced that this is a guys-only fight? This is the harsh truth: Most girls are worrying about being the prettiest, the thinnest, the most well-dressed. This is the underlying measure of a woman’s social worth. If you think this sounds shallow or sexist, I swear it’s not. Because boys are worrying about something equally shallow and foolish: Who is the coolest? This includes subtopics like “who has the best records?” and “who knows the most obscure music/books/movies?” Don’t forget “who has the best fixed gear bike?”
Now obviously in an ideal world, we would be worrying about living to our highest intellectual potential or saving the world or molding children. Prettiness and knowing everything ever in the history of indie rock (or hip hop/weird experimental music/world beats/whatever) wouldn’t matter. Of course, I think about the lofty, actually important things. And I have the best intentions. I read a lot of books, sort the recycling, and try to minimize my use of fossil fuels. I preach a good game of respect and compassion to Dylan. But in the end, the thing I’m thinking about when I look in the mirror each morning is more along the lines of “Should I cut bangs?” and “Damn, my ass looks good in these quasi-latex leggings.”