I was just trying to 'waste some time' on Facebook and found that the signal to noise ratio has gotten REALLY bad. Facebook has, in my opinion, finally outgrown the "wow! what the heck is this neat new thing?" phase and is now firmly in a phase more like "what? what the heck is this thing in the way of me doing what I've always done". It has jumped the shark. Gmail, I'm looking at you, because you're getting dangerously close to this.

Anyone who has ever been taken in by a "and then THEY tell two friends" type pyramid scheme knows how exciting exponential change can be. But quite honestly, it doesn't really fit into your head. Or at least it doesn't fit into mine. In my mind, all change is linear. You come back 21 days later, there should not be millions of comments. When I look at all the crap on people's facebook profiles, and think about how long it would take me to understand, never mind APPRECIATE that nonsense, my brain simply shuts down and I freeze up faster than my new phone.

Speaking of which, Sprint charged me 57 dollars to replace my phone with a (presumably) refurbished model that was identical. They left me with the same battery and the same phone number. The new phone works fine while it works, but it does tend to freeze up sometimes.

My phone broke in half this morning. The top flip part detached from the bottom flip part and the wire is ripped in half.

I don't know what I'm going to do, and I'm a bit panicked. I'm still not getting paid till like the 17th, so I can't afford a new anything right now, nevermind a new phone.

If you can't get ahold of me, know that I'm not ignoring you. And I'm also going to need your phone number again if I want to call you

Sigh,
-Travis

I'm writing you this letter to inform you that <PORN SITE NAME CENSORED> was found on my child's iFruit computer this afternoon.

As you are well aware Sec. 117 of <US CODE> specifies that it is illegal to market, attempt to market, think about <PORN SITE NAME CENSORED> in the state of Maryland. And you can't do it in DC either.

I read in <NEWSPAPER NAME CENSORED> Ask Alice column yesterday that <PORN SITE NAME CENSORED> was censored by <a href="http://uncyclopedia.org/wiki/Bill_gates">Bill Gates</a> (brought to you by MICROSOFT) automatically by CyberNanny ME. Or was it XP.

Anyways, I would sincerely appreciate you reversing the charges for <PORN SITE NAME CENSORED> on my husband's credit card.

Sincerely,
<EX-WIFE NAME CENSORED>

PS. Ask Alice also told me that the XBOX 360• sites "gunk up the memorey (RAM)" more than the adult websites. But that might just be a myth propogated by Microsoft

PPS. Don't be Evil. Or at least have fun.

At some point you stop feeling bad for all the kids who don't get to celebrate Halloween, and you start enjoying Halloween.

If you've ever seen the Home Movies Halloween special, you know what I'm talking about.

Melody, my little sister, today said "Hahaha, keep laughing at your own jokes". And I thought "That's what I have a blog for".

Discuss.

When I thought of the scariest thing that I could dress up as for Halloween, I instantly got discouraged. How do you dress as Cancer?

Maybe I could go as Breast Cancer. For 49 dollars at Super Stop and Shop, I could get 49 of those pink ribbons and tape them to myself. October is breast cancer awareness month after all.

Or maybe I could go as CantAffordTheRent...Again. I could be the sheriff in Roger and Me who comes and actually takes your shit out of your house and puts it on the sidewalk. Or I could be the woman in that film who is raising cats for food. Spooooky!

How do you dress up as MinimumWage? Or his scarier uncle MinimumWageForTheRestOfYourLife.

Or maybe I could dress up as Police have documented cases of madmen randomly distributing poisoned goodies to the little tykes who come calling on Halloween. But people would get mad when they realize I just as easily could have dressed up as Bigfoot or the Gyroball (Hint: none of them exist).

This Halloween I'm going to dress up as TheGhostOfHalloweenPast. I'm going to dress up half as that cherished memory from your childhood, and half the realization that you'll never be that happy again.

At least no one's ever accused me of not having an imagination.