I hate to admit it, but I am an absolute internet junkie. Ever since we bought our first lovely P.C. when I was in fourth grade, my life has somehow revolved around using a mouse, keyboard and CPU to create everything from science projects to ezines to fantastically-written blog entries. And yes, I’m the friend who inevitably asks, “Can I use your laptop?” every single time I come over. I guess I’m sorta kinda addicted. (Hey, it’s better than cigarettes or booze!)

I thought that this addiction had led me to discover almost every little nugget of cool-ness the internet had to offer. I was officially convinced that I was pretty much the most tech-savvy girl on campus. However, until about a week ago, I was completely in the dark about one amazing aspect of the internet: the wonder that is iGoogle.

I know, I know, I sound like a hypocrite. A few months ago, I expressed my severe annoyance with Google. But discovering this crafty little tool made it almost impossible for me not to forgive the big ‘G’. Read More »

[Read the second installment HERE]

A few days later, I received a friendly e-mail from Jack. He informed me that I’d be hearing from an internal HR recruiter in the next couple of days. I also noticed that he was now available for chat on my Gmail account.

“No harm in that, right?” I asked Jason.

“Sure. Who cares?” He replied.

So after I heard from the recruiter, Jack and I chatted here and there – nothing special or even personal, just friendly banter about this and that. But things quickly took on a different tone, although subtle, I began to wonder about Jack’s motives. He was ecstatic when he found out that Liz, the HR recruiter, had called me. As soon as I told him over chat, our “chat conversation” proceeded as such:

Jack: digits? your digits?!? also may i suggest that you wear a highly professional business suit for the occasion?

me: why do you want to call? and of course i’ll wear a professional suit, silly!

Jack: what do you mean why??? i wanna talk about this over the phone!

me: ok. . . sorry

Before I had a chance to turn my head away from my computer monitor, my cell phone cried BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZZ!

“So what’s up?” Read More »

Things Girls Do For a Date:

1) Try on everything in our closets, which, might I add, usually results in sweating like we just ran a marathon, all while ranting to ourselves about how we have NO clothes (minus the messy heap that was once our closet).

God forbid we should be too overdressed, too trendy, too slutty, or look too high-maintenance. Yet, we still need that perfect ‘fit that makes us look adorable… so that he will like us.

2) Email our friends 15 times on Date Day. “Can I wear a dress?” “What do I talk about?” “What’s our code word if it goes bad and I need an excuse to leave?” “What about the awkward silences?” “What if I’m not funny?” And our friends write us back and assure us that we are fabu and he will obviously like us.

3) Then the date rolls around and we sit up straight, eat fatty food so we aren’t one of those “Ano girls who don’t eat,” smile so much that our cheeks hurt (I really wonder how Ms. America does it) and bring our A game to the table.

Why? So he will like us. Like us and want to call/email us. And we will inevitably spend our next few days staring at our Gmail inboxes and cell phones. Never thinking we would be so bummed out over an email telling us of a MAJOR sale.

While that is all peachy (usually nothing excites us more than knowing MJ aviators are ½ off) right now this is soo not the new email we were hoping for.

And then, we get the call, we date the guy for a while—he likes us. Just what we wanted and we lived happily ever after. The End. Right?

Well at least until we realize two months later… WE can’t stand THEM.

Read More »

Fresh off the teetering heels of Miss New Jersey’s photo scandal comes another. This time the photos are allegedly not so PG. And who would expect less from LiLo?

According to a “real” Gchat between Lohan and a celebslam.com owner, the photos were stolen from her computer by a hacker who left a file on her desktop letting her know of his dirty deed. The pre-rehab pics are naked photos of Lindsay taken by ex-boy Calum Best.

In the Gchat, she warns CelebSlam editor Nick that her lawyers have already been notified of the missing pics. Nick notes at the bottom of the chat that Lohan’s Gmail address is real and is not the email address released to the public earlier in the year.

I’m not sure why Lindsay is so heated about the pics; doesn’t she remember America seeing her Poonan when the paps snapped her photo sans undies? It’s really nothing we haven’t seen before.

But to the hacker who stole the pics, I say thanks. Not that I want to see Lindsay’s lady bits again, but celebrity news has gotten a little boring since LiLo got sober. Read More »

I am loving Gmail chat, or Gchat as those of us in the know like to call it. And I am so over AOL Instant Messenger.

AIM, with its elaborate sound effects and cutesy but cluttered design, has lost its appeal for me. There was a time when I, like many of my friends, left AIM constantly signed on, just in case some crucial or exciting message might pop up unexpectedly. But over time, the many irritations of AIM began to wear on me. I signed on less and less frequently, and eventually not at all.

Those advertisements at the top of the buddy list window would make loud and abrupt noises out of nowhere, which freaked me out. I’m through spending hours meticulously crafting witty away messages or tweaking my profile, and I’m definitely through reading other people’s away messages and profiles. The internet has come a long way, and there are far better ways to kill time. Like Facebook. Also, in the many long years I’ve been using AIM, I have acquired a lot of “buddies”. A lot of random buddies, many of whom I no longer care to chat with. It’s so awkward when some long lost acquaintance I occasionally partied with during my senior year of high school wants to kill time by IMing me. I have nothing to say, but at the same time, how can I blow someone off when we haven’t spoken in three or four years? Read More »