No, not for those tragically narcissistic reasons that you might think. Sure, it’s fun having a place on the internet where you can erect a shrine to yourself, but why bother with a little Myspace page when you can create a whole website that people can check out and have some fun with, where you alone are the reigning voice and personality?

No, Myspace is fabulous for other reasons, my favorite one being the Friend List numbers game. Everyone uses that network to communicate with friends, meet new people, spy on old flames, pursue their crushes etc., but one of the most telling things about an individual isn’t deliberately put on display along with their likes, dislikes, and other useless trivia. How many friends do you have? Is it a huge list? Is it tiny? The size of your friend list can be an interesting indicator as to what kind of person you are.

Obviously in this respect I’m referring to choads. One of the seriously choady Myspace moves is to run your friend list into astronomical numbers. Sorry guys, there’s no way you’re actually acquainted with 3000 people, especially when 2500 of them are half naked 19 year old attention whores hoping to be “discovered” by a modeling agency. I’m sure it took a nice long time for you to rack up those numbers, but what’s the point of having that many faces on your list? You’re not fooling anyone into thinking you’re that cool. You’re just putting your inferiority complex on biiig flashy public display. Nice move rookie. Put up a couple pictures of some cars you can’t afford, some Grey Goose bottles you’re not old enough to buy, and some Victoria’s Secret models you’ll never meet, and you’ll have cemented your place in the halls of generic choaddom infamy.

Does the never ending stream of “thanks for the add!” comments make you feel important? Does perusing the millions of faces associated with your page help to fill the tremendous void that is your life? Awesome. Keep it up. I need more material for my blog.

And with that being said, for you fabulous folks out there who (like me) spend too much time puttering about the ‘net, shoot me a friend request next time you’re on the Space. My own number is a little dismal.