Life used to be so easy before MySpace allowed us all to rearrange the hierarchy of our friends lists. The pressure to choose favorites is painful. I really love KISS, but everyone knows that, so maybe they should be bumped for my hippie friend Damion who could use a break in the biz. My friend Antoinette listens to all my problems like it's her job, but man Tommy Lee is just so fine! Is the selection of our friends some type of Rorshach test that tells the whole world something about ourselves that we don't even know ourselves? What about that feeling of victory when you see you've made the magic 8 on somebody else's page? Or the shame of knowing you're at best number 9? I think I'd like to go back to that time of magical innocence when Butch Davis shared space with some chick named HoochieGrrl4U whom, if I were honest, I'd have to admit I have no interest in meeting. Wait a minute! I know this feeling. It's just like choosing teams for kickball and I'm FINALLY the captain. So, in other words, those magic days of yore are bullshit.