Writer's Spread

One of my best friends since we were kids is a famous author...I'm talking the famous like there have been movies adapted from his stories, he's actually been heard saying don't you know who I am? and you did, etc.  The kind of author some of you (snobs) would say is a real writer because his publisher is in a real big building in a real big city.

I believe I am his only non-celebrity friend. When he does take me out, I'm usually the person cut out of the frame behind Kanye West.  He believes I ground him.  What this really means is I know some pretty disgusting secrets about him and he's scared I'll sell them to Harvey Levin to make my rent.

Anyway, he comes over to my place today as I was trying to work and says, "So, I see you've been writing a lot."  I perk considerably and think, he's finally been reading my books!  Perhaps he'll give me a review that I'd rather die than ask for?  Perhaps he'll find the time to finish working on the script we started in high school?  Perhaps I can call myself a real writer now.

I looked up from my laptop, hoping to come off cool and said, "Yes, I've been working my ass off!  I've got some stuff up in anticipation for the two novels that are set for release.  Thanks for noticing."

And he says, "Well it's kind of hard not to...you have all the signs.  I mean, friend to friend, don't take this the wrong way, but you've gotten kind of fat."

Rice Cake anyone?

Procrastination or Productivity?

BTYFKUUPQ8JT

What's Up With The Fake Facebook Chicks?

So in addition to my Author Facebook Page (feel free to like me), I have a personal profile that I keep with my high school chums, exes (yeah, dumb) and people who have known me generally for 15 or more years.  Lately I've been talking with my guy friends about these new Facebook girls they've been adding like the plague.

Now, I've had the same conversation with no less than 7 of my guy friends in a month about these girls.  The conversation goes like this:

"Dude, you've got to log in to my Facebook profile and read the message I just got from this hot chick."
"Okay." I say as I've got a deadline, have writer's block, am crawling with caffeine from my 6th Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee and I'm a prolific procrastinator.

Now the girls basically look alike: hot, blond, big attributes, scantily dressed and they all seem to be named Sarah, Samantha or Heather.  The messages are explicit...they all seem to be into sexting or inbox sex or chat sex...basically sex that has nothing to do with two people in the same room.

"She's a hooker."  I say to all of them.  "She probably lives in Des Moines, has five kids and will be asking for a credit card number soon."
The all look at me and respond: "Dude, you're insane...she's real!"

So tonight I go scan all the girl's profiles, again, deadline, blocked, coffee, take out my trusty notebook and begin compiling a dossier.  I humored myself by calling it research for my next John Grisham-esque best seller.

Out of 22 girls surveyed (told ya I was a good procrastinator):
All have public "walls" on Facebook,
All have pictures where they're barely dressed and I swear it looks like heads and bodies were interchanged with each other,
They are all linked with each other by posting they're girlfriends, domestic partners, sisters, cousins, aunts and mothers of each other,
All claim to have worked or work at Hooters,
All claim to live in either Ohio or England (wtf),
All claim to only be into girls or will only add girls as friends, but have guy friends, as evidenced from some of my lesser-intelligent comrades above,
All are monosyllabic (hi, lol, :), morning) in their comments unless they are baiting other females into "lively" dialog about aforementioned big attributes,
All are fond of slinging the word inbox (double entendre entered into the record and noted).

Conspiracy theory?  HA, I think not.  What we have here is classic bait and switch, gypsy ring of fake female hucksters hiding behind dialog that some of my erotic writing friends need to get their hands on to goad unsuspecting guys and gals into buying something to keep them talking.

Now these cells may be well-known to all of you, but I'm pretty shocked that my friends fell for it.  Incidentally when presented with my findings, none of the guys saw the parallels I did and they all said I should think about therapy.

I'm going to watch Catfish now and think about all the work I have to do tomorrow.  Goodnight dear friends.