MySpace as a Weapon

I have finally delved into the phenomenon that is MySpace. By weird coincidence, two friends in two weeks, both from junior high school, and both of whom I hadn't seen in many years, told me about their MySpace pages.

While it's fun to connect with old friends, and I can see where one might get addicted, I have to say that I now know why old people are notoriously resistant to change. As I navigated the pages, used by millions of young people every day, I found myself feeling a little like a fish out of water. Everything felt so new and unfamiliar and hard to navigate. I just wanted to say, "Pah, to hell with it," put my fake teeth in a glass of water, and call it a day. It didn't help that because our IP address is in Norway, everything came up in Norwegian. "#¤%&! I am better now.

It's a lot of fun, though, AND I've gotten the best idea for what to threaten obnoxious teenagers with. I'm already scared of the teenager Laney will become. She's only two, but she's got sassy DOWN, and she has already mastered the "You don't know anything, do you?" look. It's terrifying.

My secret weapon against her will be my very own MySpace (or 2018 equivalent) page. I've got it all figured out. I'll upload a picture of my 45-year-old self in in a sexy pose wearing low-rise jeans and t-shirt tied up above my belly button. The About Me section will be filled with all kinds of inappropriate use of young people's lingo. "Hip, hot momma looking for cool friends who can hang. Are you diggin' it? Hollah!"

In the photos section, I can have kissy pictures of me and Seven and embarrasing pictures of the kids. "Awww, look at her little dimpled butt." Mine and Laney's.

The threat will be that I'm going to request all the cute boys in school be my "friend" and send them my page. I think it'll work, don't you?

If I can manage to get Seven to pose for the following:


I think we, Seven and I, may just get through the kids' adolescence just fine.