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zsummers
Avast!
 
Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: New York?
 
2010-03-04, 04:03

Dear Internet,

Man, we've had some good times right? Remember that time I couldn't remember the name of that girl in the movie with the banana (Phoebe Cates!). You were there for me. I really needed that. And I want you to know that I'll always appreciate how you keep the peace. I would've killed my brother last Christmas when we were fighting about whether Long Island was, in fact, an island. How f*cking stupid can you be, right? But you stepped right in--no judgment, just fact--with maps and everything (not an island!). You set my brother straight. Just the same way you set me straight when I still thought the lyrics were "Dirty deeds / and they're done with sheep."

Good times, good times.

But let me cut to the chase: lately, things have changed. I guess it's hard to put my finger on exactly when. But I do remember the day I found out you had my social. And my birthday. And my phone number and address! What's the deal? I could swear I never gave them to you, Internet. It worried me. I asked around.

But my friends weren't worried--they all loved you. "Maybe mom gave your number to her," my brother said. She does that sometimes, with "nice" girls. For my part, I figured, "Hey... I got drunk at a party and probably gave my card out to the Internet." I mean parts of you are good-looking, and everyone knows you've got a real freak-streak when things head below the belt. Maybe with a couple pints of whiskey in me I scoped your tubes and thought, "Why not?" (Though frankly, with your sophomoric humor and questionable physique ("world wide web" indeed), it seemed unlikely.).

Heck, I even flattered myself, Internet: maybe you just had a harmless little crush. I mean, I'm the first to admit to having some unhealthy little obsessions. Lord knows if I could get it, I'd have Zooey Deschanel's phone number too (which reminds me about something I've been meaning to ask you...).

So I forgave you. "That's just the Internet," I told myself. "She's harmless," my friends said. I guess that's why I didn't freak out when it got more personal the last few years. Pictures of me playing high school basketball. College theses on Salman Rushdie. Even satellite images of my apartment. Where did you get this stuff? It was like you were building a little shrine to me (which, let's be honest, probably kept you on my good side)... Not cool, Internet. Not cool.

But I just couldn't give you up. "Done with sheep!" Boy, that would've been an embarrassing karaoke night. And all those pictures of Zooey you've got!

But lately... I'll put it bluntly. Lately, you are downright creepy. For instance, you were definitely not invited on my camping trip. To be honest, we went out there to get away from you--just my wife and me and the wide open spaces. But I'll be damned--two days later, Internet, you've got pictures of it. How? And my dad's BBQ recipe. Where in F*CK SAKE did you get that? And why? Why, Internet? It's not even that good.

The list goes on and on. My favorite movie. That paper I wrote in first grade on why I like butterflies. My 8th grade mile time. A blog on an Italian dinner I just had with someone (okay, yes, that someone was a blogger.... but that's no excuse, Internet, no excuse at all). IT IS TIME TO GET A GRIP!

So I'm here to say I don't love you, Internet. I never will. Please stop following me around everywhere I go. Please stop rummaging through my digital trash. Please stop saving every f*cking picture ever taken of me. Please stop tweeting on my front lawn at two in the morning. Please stop, please stop, please stop!

But before you do, about Zooey's phone number?

Love,
zsummers

p.s. I know you're reading this. Creep.

"How could you falter / when you're the Rock of Gibralter? / I had to get off the boat so I could walk on water. / This ain't no tall order. / This is nothing to me. / Difficult takes a day. / Impossible takes a week."
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