Why Myspace sucks

[Patrick]

Myspace Ruined my life.
This is the story of how MySpace ruined my life. Saturday evening, March 11th 2006, I was playing my usual bi-weekly poker tournament at a friends house. My girlfriend of 6 years calls me on the cell phone while me and some other people are going to Burger King, because we suck at poker, and were the first ones out. Upon receiving our tasty flame-broiled treats from the whopper factory, I noticed my girlfriend was calling me on my cell phone, her ring tone is D12 - American Psycho II, but that is irrelevant. I answer the phone in a joyous and happy tone, why? Because I am joyous and happy. I have tasty burger king sandwiches with some not so tasty burger king fries, and the drink of all drinks, root beer. I figure she's calling me to console me about getting my ass kicked out in the second HAND of poker. I have been wrong before, and this was no exception. Here is something of how the conversation went down, I don't remember it word for word, as it was about 6 days ago, but here it is:
Me: Helllllllllllllllo (in a joyous tone)?
Her: Hey.
Me: What's up?
Her: Look we gotta talk
Me: Uhh...(for a split second I think she's pregnant, then I realize that's impossible, people have to have sex to get pregnant)...ok?
Her: Are you alone?
Me: Uhh not really.
Her: Well we have to talk
Me: Ok, so talk
Her: Look I don't want you to get mad, I don't want to get into a fight, I just want you to admit to me that you're talking to (this is a fictitious name) Shaquaynay.
Me: What?
Her: Admit to me that you're talking to (again, and forever, a fictitious name) Shaquaynay.
Me: What the F*** are you talking about?
Her: You're talking to Shaquaynay again.
Skrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt Ok lets back up here. Me and my girlfriend have a kid, he's 5. We've been together over 6 years, and we've had some tough, but some good times. During one of our tough times, while we were "On a break" as Mr. Ross Gellar would say, I slept with another girl, Shaquaynay. Lots of drama and bullshit later, Shaquaynay is kicked to the curb and I'm back with my one and only honey bunny nugget of love. Ok that's gay. Whatever. So for the past 3 years since this has happened, she wants me not to talk to Shaquaynay, which is fine by me, awesome. I have never cheated on her, and never will. She still freaks out any time Shaquaynay is anywhere near anything I do online, thinking I'm talking to her again. She constantly brings her up, in a semi-joking matter "Oh you want to F*** Shaquaynay again don't you" Etc. Which is really f***ing lame, stupid, and annoying. But whatever. Ok, lets put it back in drive and get back to this spectacular conversation.
Me: Uhh...ok?
Her: I saw the myspace page
Me: What myspace page...?
Her: The myspace page you made
Me: I made a myspace page?
Her: Yep
Me: What the F*** are you talking about, no I didn't. I was just talking to (yet another fictitious name) Roger the other day about myspace and how f***ing stupid it is, and how much unnecessary dumb ass drama comes from shit like that.
Her: Well then why did you make one?
Me: I didn't
Her: Stop f***ing lying to me, I'm looking at it right now, arrrgh yarrrrrrr
Me: I didn't make any f***ing myspace page. I hate myspace. It f***ing ruins lives.
Her: Well I'm looking at it right here, stop f***ing lying to me and just admit to me that you're talking to Shaquaynay again.
Me: What the F*** does Shaquaynay have to do with some myspace page anyway?
Her: She's on it.
Me: She's on my myspace page?
Her: Yeah.
Me: That's interesting. Did you stop and think that maybe SHE or someone she knows made it?
Her: Yeah right
Me: Bitch whatever (click)
Ok so at this point I'm pretty fuming. She's pissed off at me over a myspace page? I f***ing hate myspace. Ask pretty much anyone that has ever heard me say "myspace is f***ing retarded" or some form or another, which I've said several times in the past. It IS retarded. It's a place where you can put all your personal information into, get crazy ass people to stalk you, hookup with bitches who have herpes and shit, F*** myspace, I want nothing to do with it.
We got home from poker that night and I decided to try to find this myspace page. I went to myspace.com and after the slash I typed my online nickname, thinking that was it. That went to some gay fags page named Mike. My name is not Mike. So I put in another nickname I use online, Its some Wild Homoerotic guy who makes me so turned on shit, seriously. I'm like ok that's definitely not me. So I put in a few more of my known aliases, still no myspace pages that have anything to do with me. So I smoked a bowl and said "that bitch is crazy, there's no myspace page with my pictures and info and shit on it..." and promptly closed my eyes and fell to sleep in a pool of saliva warming my cheek.
So I put that silly little mishap behind me. I figured, "hey, I didn't make no f***ing myspace, I got nothin to worry about". Oh hell no was I wrong. The next morning after I wake up in a stoned daze from poker the night before, which I lost a total of 10 dollars, in 7 hours and 3 games, which isn't horrible at all, I decided to call The illustrious Girlfriend. Lets just call her "The Girlfriend". So I call her, and heroes somewhat how the conversation goes, again I am a pothead, so I cant remember everything, but this is the basic idea.
Her: Hello
Me: Hi
Her: What?
Me: Uh...whats up?
Her: Nothing.
Me: Ok so what's the deal with this myspace shit? I went there and its some guy who makes me so turned on named Mike. You do realize my name isn't Mike right?
Her: Its there, (my real name).
Me: Where? where the F*** is this page at? I went to (alias) and (alias) and (alias) and (alias), and none of them were me, where the F*** is this page at with all my shit? Are you f***ing with me? Cuz this shit isn't funny.
Her: I'm not f***ing with you, its at (other alias that I forgot to check).
Me: (goes inside) Ok I'm going to check it right now.
Her: K.

 

[Patrick]

So at this point, I check it, and sure as shit, it's a myspace page with my pictures, my name, my information, including my high school and shit. I'm like holy fuckin what? This shit? no. What the F***. So I notice that I have one single solitary friend on my gay ass little friends list. Who is it? Its the woman we all love to hate, Shaquaynay. idiot. How the F***? Is this on my email address? You bet your ass I had questions. Basically, one day I was at Shaquaynays house, a long long time ago, and I was on mIRC on her computer, and as all you mIRC users know, when you identify to nickserv (that is, "log in" for you laymen's terms people), your password is not in (*) characters, it is there in plain text on the screen. So she saw my password. I didn't really care, I figured she wouldn't remember it, or do anything with it. I am a moron. I know a fair deal about computers, internet, networking, all that shit, I Know I shouldn't use the same password for EVERY f***ing THING I do that requires a password, and I damn sure shouldn't use that same password for 8 years. But ...I did. And I happened to use that same password that Shaquaynay saw me enter in on mIRC as my gmail password. So she signed up for this myspace account, under my email address, went to my email and clicked the confirmation link, and put pictures and information up about me that she knew, and added herself as a friend. I dunno what the PURPOSE was of doing this...but it was done. And The Girlfriend had seen it. Ruh...f***ing...Roh. How do I get outta this? It's made in my password, with my pictures, all my personal information (not a lot, but enough), I look extremely bad right now. But wait, why the F***, if I had made this myspace page, knowing that The Girlfriend tends to snoop online when it comes to me, WHY IN GODS NAME would I have put Shaquaynay on as my ONLY friend. That is just downright retarded, if you ask me, and I know a few things about things.
So now I'm pretty much panicking, thinking of how I can prove myself, that I didn't do that gay ass page, and I'm not talking to the sexy little wildcat Shaquaynay. I figure myspace has a "you signed up from x.x.x.x (IP address)" thing. So I can get that and show The Girlfriend that it isn't mine, and if I'm lucky I can have someone at a certain forum match it up to her IP Address, proving not only that it WASN'T me, but that it WAS her. No such luck. F*** you myspace, why couldn't you have that one SIMPLE ass feature. That would have saved me a lot of time. Dickweeds. Anyway, that's irrelevant, and I obviously wasn't going to prove it that way. But I was desperate, so I Emailed myspace and told them the situation, that I think someone falsely created a myspace page with my info and email address, and I wanna get the IP of who did it. They don't reply until today, 6 days later. More on that later. Anyway, so I call The Girlfriend again. This is how it goes down, again, don't quote me.
Me: Hey
Her: What
Me: (to self: god what a bitch) Hey listen, I swear to god I didn't make that page, I'm trying to get the IP address of whoever did, but I don't know what to do. Why don't you f***ing believe me? This is bullshit.
Her: It's all there in black and white.
Me: So? It doesn't mean I did it!
Her: Then who the F*** did?
Me: Obviously Shaquaynay! She knows my gmail password, she along with a zillion other people know where I went to school, how old I am, that I have a kid, etc, and have my pictures saved. She's my only friend on that page! Why would I have done that! I'm not stupid, you know that, Why? Why the F*** would I put her on my page knowing god damn well that you were going to see it SOME time.
Her: I don't know.
Me: .............
Her: .............
Me: Ok look, what can I possibly do to prove this to you, to prove that I didn't make the page, that we're not talking?
Her: I want her to admit to it
Me: How the F*** am I going to do that?
Her: I don't know
Me: Well if she didn't do it, she's not going to admit to it, and if she did do it, she's not going to admit to it. I'm f***ed.
Her: Sorry.
Me: (click) God what a bitch.
So now I'm furiously rubbing my chin trying to get ideas. Yes, rubbing your chin gives you ideas, ideas like light bulbs, freon, internal combustion engines, all the inventors were rubbing their chins immediately prior to their ideas. Its a scientific fact. Google it. After you read this though. Anyway, how the F*** am I going to get her to admit to this? I get on AOL Instant Messenger, and add her to my list, and unblock her, and see if she's on. Nope. Not on. Sonofabitch. Ok, so now what? I go to the forums we both frequently go to. She's not there. I want to rape myself in the ass with a f***ing rolling pin at this point. I Private Message her. This is the EXACT copy of the private message, obtained through various federal judges and court battles, by yours truly!
From: me
To: Shaquaynay (Offline)
Posted: Sun Mar 12, 2006 2:51 pm
Subject: what the F***
did you make a myspace page in my name? don't even fuckin try to lie to me, you're the only "friend" that's on it. I know you know my gmail password too, because its the same password I've been using for 8 years.
why the F*** would you do some shit like that? you know how much f***ing drama this shit caused? don't say anyfuckingthing except admit that you did it, I want nothing to do with you.
So now I'm going ape shit with the panic deal. There's no way she's gonna admit to this, I just have to convince The Girlfriend somehow, some f***ing way, that I didn't do this. She can't not believe me. I've never given her any reason not to trust me. What the F*** is her problem? myspace is RUINING MY f***ing LIFE!!
So about 10 minutes later I decide to check if I have any new Private Messages on the forums. Even though it says "No new private messages" I think to myself that maybe in the time I click it to the time I actually arrive there, one might be sent! So I go, and I see that ...holy...f***ing...shit. She responded! YES!!!! THAT BITCH BETTER HAVE ADMITTED TO IT!! So I open it up, and it's a doozy folks, but here again, is the ACTUAL Private Message obtained again from many legal battles and dealings with federal judges and the like. Prepare yourself!
From: Shaquaynay
To: me (Online)
Posted: Sun Mar 12, 2006 2:55 pm
Subject: what the F*** Quote message
I did
I was bored and did it as a joke.. ya'll are f***ing crazy
SCORE!!!!!!!!!! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!!!!!!!! HOME f***ing RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So I frantically call The Girlfriend to tell her to check my private messages. She answers, here's the short but sweet conversation:
Me: Go log in to the message board and go look at my private messages
Her: ...Why?
Me: Because, you'll find your answer there. (click)
So I showed her! How dare you not trust me! How dare you not believe me! HOW DARE YOU! Now I've got evidence, I've got a signed confession from the perpetrator, albeit over the internet, but it's what The Girlfriend wanted! I'm Home free! I hope she feels like a piece of shit. I hope she cries, like I f***ing did when she wouldn't believe me, I hope she f***ing throws herself down a flight of stairs, Climbs back up and does it again. Maybe then she can feel the pain of her not trusting me, when given no reason not to. So I decide that I'm going to let her call me back when she's ready to just throw this whole situation in the gutter, put her big ass foot in her big ass mouth, and shut up. I decided now would be a good time to go work on the car in the garage with a guy, some pot smoking and manliness, yeah, that sounds good. So out I go to the garage, where pot smoking and manly car workings-on ensue. Shortly thereafter The Girlfriend calls me back. I pick up the phone thinking, OK this is it, this is where I get to hear her admit she was wrong, and that she believes me. God DAMN am I on a roll today, cuz that's the second time I was horribly horribly wrong about something. Here it is!

 

[Patrick]

Me: Hello.
Her: Hi
Me: Hi. So did you read the private message?
Her: Yeah
Me: And?
Her: I don't know.
At this point I'm pretty sure my face did it's own version of a 180. She doesn't know? What? I just gave you a confession? Bitch are you kidding me?
Me: You don't know? Don't Know What? I just gave you a confession? Bitch are you kidding me?
Her: I just don't know, it's hard to believe you.
Me: Why the F*** is it hard to believe me? Have I ever given you reason not to believe me in the past?
Her: No
Me: Then why the F*** don't you believe me now?
Her: Cuz its ...there, its right there.
Me: Yeah, so is her private message saying that SHE did it. THATS what you f***ing asked for, isn't it? That's what you said would make you believe me. That's what the F*** I gave you. Now what's wrong with it? Why isn't it good enough anymore?
Her: I just don't know.
Me: Bitch, F*** yourself.
Now this is where the cell phone comes in, for all of those wondering what the F*** myspace has to do with ruining a cell phone. I was having a pretty clumsy ass day that day. I had already dropped a buncha shit, burned shit, spilled shit, whatever. So when I have proven myself innocent and people still blatantly tell me I'm lying, I get a little mad. Ok, I get blindly f***ing furious. It's some weird psychological problem that I have, probably. ... Anyway, so I get really pissed cuz she still doesn't believe me, and I throw my cell phone down onto the glass patio table that's outside right where I'm sitting on the back porch. I manage to not break the cell phone at all, but instead break the plastic ring on the center of the table where the umbrella is supposed to go. Oops, shit, I f***ing suck. Sometime later one of us calls another, here's how this wonderful conversation goes:
Me: Hi
Her: Hi
Me: Ok, so we gotta work this out. I can't stand you not believing me. What's going on?
Her: I don't know.
Me: Well why are we doing this? Why is this still happening, I gave you the proof you wanted. I DIDNT DO IT! I'm Not talking to her! I'm f***ing telling you the truth. I swear to god.
Her: I just don't know if I can believe you.
Me: Why not. Why the F*** not.
Her: Because you've hurt me so many times.
Me: What the hell are you talking about? When have I hurt you, like this? Yeah, I've broken up with you over dumb shit, you've broken up with me over dumb shit, but we've NEVER had anything even remotely close to anything like this happen. And I've PROVEN that I'm not hurting you in this instance either.
Her: You're lying.
Me: Look. This is how it's going to be. You're going to go to the forums and send a private message from my account, to her. You're going to ask again, if she did it. Then when she says yes, you're gonna feel like a complete f***ing idiot. So either do that, and believe me, or leave me.
Her: I don't want to.
Me: Why, because you don't want to be wrong? You don't want to believe me?
Her: I don't know. I just cant be with someone who lies to me.
Me: What the F*** is wrong with you. I'm NOT LYING! I cannot be with someone who doesn't trust me, after being proven that I'm worthy of trusting!
Her: Ok, well then I guess that's that then.
Me: So we're broken up now? Over this? That's f***ing great. Over a f***ing web page, that I didn't even do, we're going to break up. Because someone else did some shit on the internet, WE ARE GOING TO BREAK UP!?
Her: You're a liar. You're lying.
Me: I'm not lying. I swear to god.
Her: Liar. Stop lying. You're lying to me. You're a liar. Liar. Liar.
and folks, this is where yours truly loses his f***ing mind. I'm not quite sure what I said during this time, but I do know that I wasn't as polite and eloquent as I'm known to be. And then this is where it happens. I hang up the phone, I need to kill something. I need to make something not alive. Not working. Broken. Phone. Hand. Concrete. KERBLAM. My cell phone smashes onto the concrete, as hard as I could. It flies into 8 trillion pieces. There's still a piece on the roof, somewhere.
Goodbye i730, you will be sorely missed, R.I.P.
3/21/05 - 3/12/06
Great. So now I don't have a cell phone. I'm super pissed now. I go the rest of the day and I'm just insanely mad about this whole situation. I end up getting really high, and talking to a person or two about it, who both agree that the whole problem is retarded, and she should just let it go. I would tend to agree with them. But this is the internet, and myspace ruins lives, so this is what I have to deal with from her.
Next day comes, I wake up, I'm still pretty mad, but it's my kids birthday. I would really like to see my kid on his birthday, but me and his Mom are fighting. I Have to remedy this. I call The Girlfriend. Wait. F***. My phone is broken. I toss it back wherever it was, its final resting place, and go look for the house phone. I find it, and call The Girlfriend. This is essentially how 4 or 5 different conversations throughout that day go.
Her: Hello
Me: Look, its (fictitious name) Kenneth Lee's birthday, and I want to be with him on his birthday.
Her: Ok.
Me: Ok, so...do you believe me yet or not?
Her: Not really.
Me: What the hell is wrong with you? Do you know what the F*** you're doing to me? You're seriously driving me insane. Why. WHY THE F*** don't you believe me?!
Her: Because its just, right there. You made it. Just admit it. I don't care if you have a myspace page or not, but you do, and I want you to tell me you do.
Me: F*** myspace. I want nothing to do with myspace. That shit is retarded. Do you know why? Because SHIT LIKE THIS HAPPENS. Somebody does something to piss someone off, or to make someone jealous, or mad, or some stupid shit happens, and drama goes down, and lives get f***ing ruined. Its ridiculous that its even legal. F*** myspace.
Her: (my real name) Stop. Just stop ok. I know you're lying.
Me: How the F*** do you know I'm lying. Huh? HOW!? I'VE ALREADY PROVEN THAT SOMEBODY ELSE MADE IT, THAT SHAQUAYNAY MADE IT, THAT WE'RE NOT TALKING!! Did you read the Private Message I sent her? It said I want nothing to do with you. Just admit it. Did you happen to see her myspace page? On her stupid little blog thingy? There's a message there to you, it says some shit like "Bitch I don't want your f***ing man". Go there! Look at it! WE'RE NOT TALKING. OR f***ing. OR ANYTHING. (a friend of mine was looking on Shaquaynays myspace after I told her about the situation and she told me that there was a message to The Girlfriend from Shaquaynay.)
Her: Ok. So what. I still don't believe it was her.
Me: Why not. She told me it was. You saw it.
Her: If she supposedly knows your password then you probably know hers too.
Me: No, I really don't. And if I did, so what, you think that I sent it to myself? What the F***? You think I got into her myspace page and said that shit about you? You think she hasn't realized it yet that I've sent these PM's from her account, and on her myspace? Come the F*** on. This is unbelievable, you not believing me. I seriously can't comprehend how you can possibly not understand how it's not me.
Her: Oh well. Its just too hard. Too hard to believe you.
Ok basically back and forth all day the conversations go like this, and I'm totally bummed. We're broken up, it's our kids birthday, and life is pretty much just shit. The day goes by and thankfully I do get to see him, and things are OK for a while, at least until he's not around anymore. So I try to get Shaquaynay to call The Girlfriend on her cell phone. I Private Message her and Instant message her and whatever other kind of messages you can think of, I asked her to call The Girlfriend and tell her she did the page. She didn't, because she's lazy. So now, because of myspace, I have lost my girlfriend, my sons mother, the woman I thought was going to be my future wife. Because of myspace, my girlfriend doesn't trust me. Because of things like myspace all over the internet, and the crazy ass people that use it, my life is ruined. I never stop hearing about myspace. Its on the news all the time. Its on the radio. People are saying "oh man I got into so much trouble because of my myspace" THEN WHY THE F*** WOULD YOU WANT ONE?! I Didn't want one, and it got me into trouble. It actually ruined my life. I am a recovering alcoholic, sober almost a year. This situation has driven me to drink again. I have had no desire to drink since I stopped, it is because of myspace that my life is so f***ed up right now that I can't even cope with it without turning to a beverage. As I sit here in my boxers and wife beater, having smoked 6 packs of cigarettes and drank roughly 3 pints of liquor with my favorite twist of lime, I'm thinking about how I wouldn't be sitting here, in this state, if it wasn't for myspace. This wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for myspace. That's really f***ed up. Myspace is really f***ed up. Myspace ruined my life. Don't let it ruin yours.

 

[Tarvis]

He should be thanking MySpace because his girlfriend is fucking stupid. Fuck that retarded trailertrash whore, he should have gotten rid of her ass a long time ago.

 

[Joe]

...

sum up plz.

 

[Tarvis]

Well this gui was dating this girl then they broke up for a while and he had sex with another gurl. Then he got back together with first girl, and shes all like u cant talk to this bitch anymore. Anyways, gf finds myspace site with his info on it with the girl he slept with's info on it. She yells at him, he shows proof to her that he didn't do it and she doesn't believe him even when other girl admits she did it as a joke. They break up.

 

[Don Francisco]

Yeah, this lady is a crazy bitch. No relationship could ever work with that massive lack of trust.

The guy is pretty messed up too, though. I wouldn't let my boyfriend be near his son if he's a pothead and a recovering alcoholic.

 

[Joe]

yeah i got bored and read it. I DON'T WANT NO BABY DADDY DRAMA.