Why do people feel the need to post they are deleting friends from their Facebook accounts as though I should somehow rejoice in the fact that I made the cut. Seriously? Just delete them and keep quiet about it, I care about that less than your baby accomplishing XYZ task or where in the world you are at the moment. Listen. You are no Carmen Sandiego. Red striped shirt? No. You are no Waldo. I don't even see your precious doe-eyed face on the side of a milk carton or a FBI Most Wanted poster. No one is searching for you and unless you plan on taking my commented grocery list, purchasing and delivering to my home, just be. Be where you are without a status update, memo, smoke signal, telegram and marquee ticker message. I am sure the people you are with, if you happen to be with people, appreciate it. You know, the whole in the moment thing. Be there. Enjoy life.
And if not, fuck it, I am sure the random stranger stalker you befriended, who also made the Facebook cut (hooray!), enjoys the up to date status messages aiding in his preparation.
He intends to hunt you down, kidnap and hack your arms and legs off; good job making it easier by letting him know you are on your way home to an empty house for the night.
The Ego is an amazing beast uncollared. I call mine Margo. She enjoys martinis, jazz and licking young blood from her claws.
A Virgo, Margo can be found frequently passing judgement in the most hypocritical fashion; Let's give it up for Margo, Ladies and Gentlemen!
I still want to do this. The idea of looking for buried treasure is tingly but even more so, the idea of making and hiding my own trinkets, even more tantalizing than lighting barn fires (not that I have ever lit a barn fire, but I can appreciate the attraction, oh absolutely). I want to do several and leave little printouts of comics that make up an entire story. Like, "Collect Them All!", give directions to the others in a few select boxes, and also I will put something like "Number 9 of 10" on it. But I will only ever hide 9. So when all the Neo-Pirates go running around town in search of number 10, unable to find it because it doesn't exist and also, Bonus Zing, no one will ever be able to finish the little comic story because Number 9 will be the cliff hanger comic, I can rejoice in the fact that I have blown tech minds in the cruelest way imaginable.
I love it when I see a plan come together.
Reality (we love that land, now don't we kiddies) dictates that I will probably fuck up all the coordinates, some idiot kid digging in the dirt will happen upon one of the boxes and destroy it thus destroying the sequence, a dog will shit in the area preventing all GPS Masturbators from approaching, or Zeus will cause lighting to strike and a tree will come crashing down, covering a box, forever ruining everything.
Oh well. It was a nice idea.
Back to iphone Mahjong and letting all my stalker Facebook friends know I'm taking a bath.