TM: EVERY path may lead you to God, even the weird ones. Most of us are on a journey. We’re looking for something, though we’re not always sure what

that is. The way is foggy much of the time. I suggest you slow down and follow some of the side roads that appear suddenly in the mist.

Thank you for that, T.M. Very encouraging. So much so, it’s encouraged me to dedicate this whole week to poetry. Because, poetry is encouraging. Here, I’ll show you:

Color Pink,
How you guide me,
When I worry about breast cancer,
In myself and others,
But mostly in myself.
Color Pink,
How you remind me,
Of the generosity of UPS, Wilson, New Balance, Avon, Caribou Coffee and Ford Motor Company.
And that the soft petal of nipple is important too.
Color Pink,
How you inspire me,
To buy pins, scarves, bookmarks, bears, suncatchers, blenders, cell phones, golf clubs, pillow cases, Rollerblades, wallets and a pink ribbon sink strainer™.
Because “Survivor” is not only something you carry in your heart, but also on your bathmat.
Color Pink,
How you encourage me,
To unite with other women, to laugh, sing and cry.
Not because I feel that way,
But because you told me to.

D. B. is just tried eating a mango, but it was too sweet and brought back too many painful memories. Happy memories, but painful all the same.

What have I told you people about using status to air out your sentimental moods? Perhaps D.B. should invest in a Moleskeine. A nice, leather-bound book (reputed to be used by Hemingway and Picasso or some such nonsense) with blank pages just waiting for D.B.’s mango sentimentality. Hell, she could even put it in verse if she likes:

Dripping fruit under the stars,
My nether regions were dripping too.
I drank the juice,
From the indention in his upper lip
Soon we were making love with only the moon,
As witness.
But, with a tap on the shoulder,
And a hit with a boulder,
His girlfriend rained on my mango parade.
Now, all I have are the memories of that fateful eve.

7th Grade Poetry Contest: 10, Narcisstic Rating: 10

Look at HedonismChronicles.com now.

Your Turn

It's delightful how many people agree with me about the absurdity of Status culture. Now, you guys are sending your own comments with the status messages. So, to make my job a little easier this week, I thought I'd turn the blog over to you. Enjoy. -Hedonism

RB is so glad her husband's hair is growing back in and turning darker...although he did look good with stark white hair

Editor's note: I really wanted to keep this one for myself, but alas, I will let someone else take it. It's glorious, though:
Do you think the husband knows that his follicle status has been posted for the whole FB world?

J.H. has still not made the decision...why does it have to be this way! :(

Backstory: This girl updates her status with some variation of this message every 45 minutes or so. PUT ON THE BIG GIRL PANTS AND MAKE YOUR FLIPPIN' DECISION THEN, J-GIRL.

Donald Martin is banging out this blog. My editor is hounding me!

Boo fucking hoo it sucks to be Donald Martin!

K.L. is excited for the weekend!

Thanks Captain Obvious!

S. B. would be a lot happier if anyone at the Ritz could tell me where my dry cleaning is...

Very subtle, S.B., not only do I not care about your dry cleaning, but you had to name drop the Ritz so we would REALLY empathize with you....

CE: is Damn, I just had some awesome almost-sex! lol don't ask ;)

CE, have you ever heard of the mash-up? No, it’s not you mashing into whoever was unfortunate to be in your vicinity for the almost sex, it’s where you take two things that are popular, say, Jay Z and the Beatles; or Marta buses and bi-polar women; or status messages and photos from other blogs, and you stick them together. Kinda funny, isn’t it CE?

Relationship Grievances

To keep up with our themes, this week we’re going to examine people who use the status message to air their RELATIONSHIP GRIEVANCES. Is it narcissistic? Sure! Because, as usual, these people assume the online community cares. O the pain, the heartache and the suffering….

T.M. is I mean really you're that big of a drama queen that you want everybody to know you're having a bad day, but even beyond that you leave it open

...ended cause you want sympathy and people to ask what's what's wrong, so you can air your dirty laundry all over the Internet, f-ing lame. Confide in a friend not the world wide web, jesus.

Are you roaring with laughter yet? First thing’s first, that’s a hella long status message. I’ve got to test that out. This means I can put chapters of my book in my status message to force people into daily reading. Brilliant.

Let’s go back to a simpler time. Say, 1950 B.S. (Before Status). June was mad at Dot for bringing ambrosia to the church picnic because June clearly said on the sign-up sheet that she was bringing ambrosia. Dot arrived first, so she got all the ambrosia-prestige. June, being a Taurus, had a tantrum, “I specifically said that I was bringing the ambrosia!” June handles her humiliation by whispering to Miss Davenport at euchre. She whines to the Bradfords during Family Bowling Night. She cries to Mrs. Kingston (“I thought I was doing something nice!”) at the grocery store.

Is this the same thing? You tell me.

Narcissistic Rating: 9 (sorry, T.M., but in blasting someone else’s narcissism, you became narcissistic.)

V.C. to L.B. is I want you to be free, Don't worry about me, And just like the movies, We'll play out our last scene, You won't cry, I won't scream.

What the fuck is this? If there’s one thing I don’t have time for it’s sentimentality. I hope to God V.C. is quoting a John Hughes movie and not trying to be poetic. Or maybe it’s a joke. Yeah! It’s a joke, right? Sort of a Flight of The Conchords meets Love Boat quip. But wait, it’s not a joke? It’s a lyric from Alien Ant Farm? And you meant it? You’re really this broken up over a break-up that you quoted an Alien Ant Farm song in your status message? What have we the people of the interwebs done to deserve such a thing from you, V.C.? Do we not get enough of this schmaltz with the re-recording of Of Montreal’s "Wrath Pinned to The Mist" for Outback Steaks? Or our uncles saying, ‘I feel you’ (you feel what, exactly, Uncle Andrew?) Or our mothers dancing to T.I.’s "Whatever You Like" at Bar Mitvahs?

Narcissistic Rating: Oh, it doesn’t mater, V.C. and the like are responsible for the demise of popular culture. I’m just going to go listen to Led Zeppelin in my Cadillac.

AMM: WOW! So THIS is what it feels like when old batteries get replaced by new ones! Thx alot "Friend" if that’s even ur real name!

Now, I’m not completely a monster. I’ve got to give credit where it’s due and the battery analogy is really quite creative. Completely ruined by adolescent wording and the horrid mis-spelling of ‘a lot’, but rather delightful nonetheless. Let’s dig deeper here. AMM is obviously female. Men don’t notice if they’re jilted by friends; they just carry on with their corn chips. But to see your best friend carousing with another, why, no one has felt that much pain since watching the Titanic win eleven fucking Oscars in ’97. Believe me, I know it hurts. Say, when L.A. put that picture on her home page of she and T.L. hugging quite suggestively, nary a whisper of your dear Hedonism in the photo. Yes, I know this wound well. When L.A. started paling around with M.J., or that time she had coffee with P.C. after yoga, or when I caught her at Hand In Hand with J.V., T.C. and B.K….

But wait, this isn’t about me, is it?

Narcissistic Rating for AMM: 7, Narcissistic Rating for Hedonism Chronicles: 10

TEENAGE Status Messages

This week, we will be visiting the land of TEENAGE STATUS MESSAGES. Through very illegal means–that could get me and a certain Brett Cooper sent to jail for Facebook stalking–we have TEENAGE STATUS MESSAGES. In my research of TEENAGE STATUS MESSAGES, I figured they’d be very silly and we’d get a good laugh out of them. In reality, they’re about as asinine as those of the people I know who are in their thirties, just more cryptic. As an aside, it’s interesting how TEENAGERS create their own language to keep out the Man (50s = spaz, 60s=square, 70s = jive turkey 80s = asswipe, etc.). You'll see.

So, Kendall over my head-adtr :D textttt and let's do this.

Katy Cabrera is ♥ 's him!!!.

Now, this is more like it. This is what I expected from a TEENAGE status message. And notice the little heart, impressive bit of Facebook programming. And, fuck, don’t you remember that time of being just overwhelmed by the passion (hormones), respect (insecurity) and delight (obsession) you’d feel in the company of your first love?

Makes the heart just tingle.

Samantha S. the "weed man" just called my house...WTF!

Samantha…what’s with the quotes? Is he a man who sells weed or isn’t he? And darling, this is really your own fault. Don’t blame the “weed man”. Let’s retrace your steps here. Your parents have an actual LAN line. Okay, kinda weird in this day and age, but I’m not a parent, so maybe that’s rather typical. Does the “weed man” just happens to have that LAN line number? Like, he’s some cat on Heroes with the superpower of knowing all the numbers of his clients’ parents? No, dear. That’s not the case. You gave him that number. Why? You were probably really nervous, this being your first time buying illicit drugs and all, and since you’ve had that number since your birth in 1994 (not criticizing, just stating a fact), it was the first number you came up with.
WTF? Samantha, you’ve got to be more careful next time! If you move on to say, heroin or crystal meth, you’re going to bring down the whole Indiana crime ring. Sheesh.

Miguel J. is fuck mi vida.

Whoa. Miguel, you’re like, fourteen. Come on buddy, you have your whole life to talk like that. Just ‘cause your grandmother speaks that way to her dildo, doesn’t mean you have to take a cue from the elderly. I say, get out the Macbeth and starting cleaning up that retched mouth. Here, try this on for size: “Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.” Good boy. You’ll be fucking the hos in no time.

Mary Ann Stewart Ryan is so sad, her friend Melissa died last night due to a complication related to her gastric bypass surgery :-(.

I had a friend of a friend of a friend who died from this as well. But you wouldn’t know this because I NEVER PUT IT ON MY FUCKING STATUS. Mary Ann Stewart Ryan (what’s with the four names?) I hereby pronounce you Shitty Friend of the Week. Here’s why: gastric bypass surgery is a highly personal decision. You and I both know that you would not have posted the following: Mary Ann Stewart Ryan is so excited, her friend Melissa is having gastric bypass surgery! But, MASR, you’re taking full advantage of Melissa’s death, to MAKE THIS ABOUT YOU. Now everyone is expected to give you condolences and sympathy. Poor MASR. Hell, you might even get some flowers out of the deal.

I sincerely hope Melissa’s ghost comes back fifty pounds skinnier and haunts your narcissistic ass for the rest of your living days.
Narcissistic Rating: 10 Shitty Friend of the Week Rating: 10

Cameron is at the office, heading to Lowes around noon, knocking out a home improvement project, going for a run and then off to play with Mia and Von

Later that day:

Cameron is teaching Von to use the term Latino instead of Mexican...

Now remember, my readers, that I don’t know the people about whom I write. Like you, I only have their status messages to form an opinion of their characters. Now, let’s say you’re talking to Cameron (is he male? I mean, Cameron, it’s a fucking gender-neutral name. Figures), on the phone and he said he was at the office, planning on visiting the hardware store to buy a light bulb, going to screw in said light bulb, then going to hang out with his kids. You wouldn’t think too much about it. You’d probably think Cameron’s a pretty normal guy. But of course, Cameron is a runner (see posts below) and Cameron cannot be content with telling the world that he’s simply screwing in a light bulb. He has to make it into a whole fucking home improvement project. Now things are really grandiose. Today, Cameron has worked ten hours, gone to the hardware store, remodeled the kitchen, and followed M.B. for a run in the sculpture garden. And as if that's not enough, Cameron has also home-schooled his kids in differential calc, numerical weather prediction, the standardization of Chinese in the Qin Dynasty and, of course, that one should use Latino instead of Mexican.

I heart Cameron.

Narcissistic Rating: Oh, you already know…10!

This is dedicated to runners and cyclists.

1. M.F. just signed up for the NYC Marathon!!!!
2. D.B. is shifting gears from diaper-changing, lightsaber-fighting Daddy to serious cyclist to go knock-off a 4 hour training ride in the 30 mph winds.
3. M.B. is about to go for a run in Seattle. Sculpture park here I come.

Are you seeing a trend here? I am. Runners and cyclists are egomaniacs. But I don’t blame them. Exercise is so boring, what else are they going to think about but themselves? Or, perhaps they’re hinting that I should ask them about it, “Oh hero, M.B. How was that run in Sculpture Park?” Yawn, scratch myself, eye roll as M.B. proceeds to tell me how his New Balances perfectly kiss the gravel. I mean, how do I respond to that? ‘Did a bad ass leg lift in pilates. You shoulda seen my down dog in yoga. I fucked that bag up in kickboxing.

O, the bourgeoisie are so mundane.