Thursday, October 29, 2009

Can ya spare a crawlspace, friend?

I'm on a world wide hunt for friends. Every corner of the world. I won't stop looking til I have a friend in every country, continent, county, time zone and attic crawl space. And I won't stop looking til I've done just that!

Easiest way...Facebook.

Facebook and the addiction that comes with it when you sign up. It's worse than heroine withdrawls. I've seen babies crawl upside down on the ceiling!

There are, of course, other social networking sites but Facebook is my choice.

I have a MySpace account although it's not active. I've stopped using it for several reasons but the biggest reason is that my ex-girlfriend set it up, designed it, and poisoned it with all her 'little touches'. Seeing this site doesn't make me miss her. It makes me want to key her car and have a 'worm' slither into her computer.

Twitter...well, I refuse to 'tweet'.

So I'll just stick with good old Facebook to find me some friends.

Facebook starts innocentlu enough, and actually it might be good for the soul, if only moderation were the reality, but it's not.

Facebook began as a tool to communicate with friends that I've been close with, with or without URL skills. Soon, though, I reacquainted myself with some friends from grade school, which led to a sixth grade kickball class reunion that never materialized. From there, I met up with high school buddies, girlfriends, and even some from my junior high days, two years spent in Mountain Home, Idaho.


Then, my girlfriend, and I'm not talking about Medusa, and myself started playing a game. It lasted only three or four nights, but none the less, it was on. Each night we 'chose' a complete stranger in another part of the world to 'friend'. She always picked a man, me a woman. Only rule was that if 'friended', a conversation would have to take place between that 'friend' and ones self.

Something like this.

"Hey, Dave, how the heck are ya?"

" I know you?"

"LMAO!!! WTF man, how the eff could you forget? Don't tell me you've forgot that night we finished off that fifth of Bacardi, stole the neighbors three legged cat and that bottle rocket blew up in your Bermudas!?"

Neither of us won, and no one lost, because are 'picks' never responded. And we decided to quit because it felt somewhere between harassment and stalking.

By the way, I'm not friends with the Greek belly dancer anymore. Promise, sweety!

But then I got to thinking, hey, maybe there's a need to 'friend' others within other geographic regions of the world. A need in case I needed a place to stay.

Came to me in the middle of the night. I was awoken by a creepy dream that I'd had, which in turn led me to the kitchen with a killer craving for a peanut butter and Frito sandwich. Please, do not ask about the correlation between Skippys and my inner most subconscience. I promise you don't want to hear about it. Anyway, the dream nor the delectable treat was where the idea came from, but it was the time chowing down, sitting at my laptop with Facebook up and trolling at 3:16 AM. that drew me to the idea. I couldn't believe that not only were my normal 'riding the Insomnia Bus friends' online, but there were others from the other side of the world, during my night time hours that were, during their day time hours, online as well. Who woulda thought?

Then, that revelation led me to start wondering, hypothetically of course, what if I really needed a place to stay. Not because I wanted to vacation in Mozambique or snorkel through the Great Barrier Reef, but because Johnny Law wanted to put me away, pretending they had a case against me, that they might think they had a legitimate case to lock me up, for a crime I didn't commit?

I wondered, what if I needed a tropical get away, under an assumed name? Under these preposterous conditions, and having real 'friends' in Brazil, Berlin, Belize or even Bozeman, could I not find a home elsewhere?

Would my 'friends' give me a hand?

I'm easy to live with, friends, really I am. Hardly any trouble at all. Promise!


  1. weird....this was Christel, not Madison....why does she have access to your blog?

  2. Is that how I became friends with you on Facebook? Ah, I see how it works now...