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Friday, June 20, 2003


Friendsters Forever

This Friendster thing is really taking off. I still haven't figured out exactly what it's for, but here's a random sampling of the 658,345 people in my personal network and how they got there:

Harrison Ford: Bunsen supernemesis. I've gotten a little tired of the late-night voicemail messages every time the number of people in his personal network surpasses mine. I wind up logging on at 3am, asking his friendsters to be my friendsters, then call Ford to flush the toilet and hang up. Yes, our competitive sides have turned decidedly juvenile. Also, I've gotten tired of rejecting his testimonials asking why I haven't seen "Hollywood Homicide" yet.

Keanu Reeves: Suddenly my biggest fan and occasional drinking buddy. Still can't totally grasp that there are other weapons besides "Rock" in Scissors/Paper/Rock. We need some time apart after a turbulent week of zapping cocktail waitresses.

Winona Ryder: Sometimes they just never let go.

Kofi Annan: Who is this guy? I'm pretty sure I don't know any black people who aren't in movies.

Mohammed Saeed al-Sahaf, former Iraqi Information Minister: I really miss him. Keeps asking for introductions to Gisele and refuses to believe anything I write in this space. He's living in Corsica with Mandor, Uday Hussein's gay tiger.

Tom Arnold: Get real, would you? He's not in my Friendster network, but I did once see him eating Marshmallow Fluff straight from the jar at the Malibu Ralphs. Fuck you for thinking I'd consort with the C-list, or for even knowing who he is.

Donald Rumsfeld: Rummy didn't even send me a thank-you note for the rapid deployment and development of Total Fucking Victory, which immediately swung the momentum of the war in our favor after our troubled early campaign.

Calista Flockhart: Tiresome, constant entreaties complaining that Harrison is spending all of his time trying to outdo me on Friendster, and flipping the window to this site, constantly reloading the page until he sees his name. In all fairness, it usually doesn't take long.

The machine that's keeping Bob Hope somewhat alive: ignores my pleas to take a cigarette break and leave Bob's survival to Fate.

Ashton Kutcher: deleted from my Friendster network. I don't need the stink of Over infecting my friends list.

About this site

This is the internet home of Mark Lisanti, a Los Angeles writer sometimes known as Bunsen. He is the founding editor of Defamer, a weblog about Hollywood, where he now serves in the nebulous capacity of "editor-at-large."
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