Some ADELLE art
 a collage by adelle... she was
going to write me an explanation or something, but still waiting
on it
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AMISH IN THE BRONX
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This is your basic run of the mill pic...The Amish Outlaws area always curteousy enough to take pics!
Easy Ezekial decided he wanted to send a message to Gleny which said GLENY FUCKS LIKE A BEAST! hahaha
For this pic - Brother Hezekiah yelled out, this is gleny.com! We need some fun crazy pics! Before Jamie knew it, he had swept her up! SNAP! We had a great mini photoshoot as you can see. The Amish Outlaws are always such a great time and put on an awesome show! GO SEE A LITTLE SUSPICIOUS MINDS VIDEO  HENRY from the LOVE PUMPS... Gleny from well gleny.com...and Jebidia from THE AMISH OUTLAWS
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How to Win a MySpace Guy in 10 Days
I have always been intrigued by the idea of internet dating. Hand over your cash, give out your first and last name as well as your email address, fill out elaborate profiles that supposedly cover every aspect of your life, and then find the man/woman of your dreams. Anyone else a bit suspicious? Perhaps it is some scientific experiment we will all read about one day in Newsweek--after all, that eharmony guy from the commercials certainly looks like a mad scientist to me... Or perhaps it goes even deeper and it was an evil ploy to save the wedding industry from this time of, gasp, people living together with naked left hands. I guess it could also just be a nice service trying to bring computer savvy people together in pure bliss. Whatever, it still costs money.
So I decided to take it upon myself to explore the free six degrees of separation network that is Myspace. (by the way, if you search for Kevin Bacon, you get back 74 various people, a good amount of them proclaiming their appearance in Tremors. I just found that interesting.)
I began by creating a false identity. (This is research people; I'm not putting myself out there for the scheves of the world.) First, I needed a name. I opted for one of my friend's Atlantic City names--Gretchen. Yes, sometimes we girls do give out false names to guys when we go out. It's nice to have an alterego. Get over it.
Next, I needed a location. Can't do New York or New Jersey for obvious reasons. God forbid someone recognizes the picture and blows my cover. I ended up with Boston--still a city, far enough away, and since I lived there for three years, I'm familiar with the people and the area. Ok, now we have Gretchen in Boston.
But why does Gretchen have no friends of her own? Simple. She has just transferred to grad school and is new to the area. Hence, she is 22 years old. She (conveniently I might add) needs people to show her a good time, take her out, introduce her to the Boston culture. Yet, what she really needs is a date for Valentine's Day, because this girl refuses to be dateless.
Single Gretchen in Boston then needed to fill out her interests. Obviously, she's a chill chick. She actually enjoys watching Scarface, but she's cultured enough to understand the intricacies of Hemingway. She's all for a beer and a band, but she takes good care of herself. This is Boston, so she's obviously a baseball fan. As in she's familiar with the sport, but open enough to be convinced to become a Red Sox fan, which is the key to all Boston boys' hearts. She loves music, so there is a Tom Petty song, "Refugee," up for good measure. Oh, and her picture is her lounging in a string bikini on a beach. Yeah...
So for those of you of the male persuasion reading, who's interested in taking Gretchen out on a date? You're not alone.
I let it sit. I didn't chase men, ask for friend requests, try to make Gretchen look cool and popular by adding people left and right. I did not make any comments on any fellow myspacer's pages. I just left Tom on my layout-less page. And I waited.
The experiment lasted about a week and a half. Within this time frame, I had already made thirteen male friends and received four comments and, get this, thirty-three messages. (No female friends, for the record.) I've replied to nine men. My message box has been inundated with people telling me how sexy "I" am. So, if you want to be a voyeur, or just live vicariously through Gretchen, here are the stats:
Number of men who have given Gretchen their screen name: 5
Number of men who have said they would love to hang out with Gretchen: 7
Number of men who have offered themselves for Valentine's Day: 4
Number of men who are already heartbroken because Gretchen did not write back: 1
Number of men who actually sounded genuine: 1
Number of men who have used pet names: 16
-4 out of 4 were just on the comments section: cutie, beautiful, cutie, sweetie.
In messages I've received: sweety, cutie, cute, attractive, beautiful, sexy, cutie (Cutie totally wins for the record), hun, amazing looking, (the latter two come from a message signed "love"), cutie, love, cutie, sexy,
I could probably now write a thesis on the wiles of Internet men.
Here is my favorite cheesy message:
Yikes! What's in Chestnut Hill? But I agree. Nothing like Tom Petty. I wish I knew exactly when Valentine's Day was. I remember when I was little --- like 3 or 4 --- my parents used to throw Valentine's Day parties for me and all my 4-year old friends. Now? Just the snow.
--"Gretchen says: how cute, he's trying to appeal to the sensitive/guilty side of Gretchen. Empathy people, empathy.
So girls, now you know how easy it is to find a date for Valentine's Day via Myspace. Or how easy it is to mess with people's minds... Simply put up a picture of yourself in a bikini and let the games begin. Who really needs feminism, anyway?
I have always been intrigued by the idea of internet dating. Hand over your cash, give out your first and last name as well as your email address, fill out elaborate profiles that supposedly cover every aspect of your life, and then find the man/woman of your dreams. Anyone else a bit suspicious? Perhaps it is some scientific experiment we will all read about one day in Newsweek--after all, that eharmony guy from the commercials certainly looks like a mad scientist to me... Or perhaps it goes even deeper and it was an evil ploy to save the wedding industry from this time of, gasp, people living together with naked left hands. I guess it could also just be a nice service trying to bring computer savvy people together in pure bliss. Whatever, it still costs money.
So I decided to take it upon myself to explore the free six degrees of separation network that is Myspace. (by the way, if you search for Kevin Bacon, you get back 74 various people, a good amount of them proclaiming their appearance in Tremors. I just found that interesting.)
I began by creating a false identity. (This is research people; I'm not putting myself out there for the scheves of the world.) First, I needed a name. I opted for one of my friend's Atlantic City names--Gretchen. Yes, sometimes we girls do give out false names to guys when we go out. It's nice to have an alterego. Get over it.
Next, I needed a location. Can't do New York or New Jersey for obvious reasons. God forbid someone recognizes the picture and blows my cover. I ended up with Boston--still a city, far enough away, and since I lived there for three years, I'm familiar with the people and the area. Ok, now we have Gretchen in Boston.
But why does Gretchen have no friends of her own? Simple. She has just transferred to grad school and is new to the area. Hence, she is 22 years old. She (conveniently I might add) needs people to show her a good time, take her out, introduce her to the Boston culture. Yet, what she really needs is a date for Valentine's Day, because this girl refuses to be dateless.
Single Gretchen in Boston then needed to fill out her interests. Obviously, she's a chill chick. She actually enjoys watching Scarface, but she's cultured enough to understand the intricacies of Hemingway. She's all for a beer and a band, but she takes good care of herself. This is Boston, so she's obviously a baseball fan. As in she's familiar with the sport, but open enough to be convinced to become a Red Sox fan, which is the key to all Boston boys' hearts. She loves music, so there is a Tom Petty song, "Refugee," up for good measure. Oh, and her picture is her lounging in a string bikini on a beach. Yeah...
So for those of you of the male persuasion reading, who's interested in taking Gretchen out on a date? You're not alone.
I let it sit. I didn't chase men, ask for friend requests, try to make Gretchen look cool and popular by adding people left and right. I did not make any comments on any fellow myspacer's pages. I just left Tom on my layout-less page. And I waited.
The experiment lasted about a week and a half. Within this time frame, I had already made thirteen male friends and received four comments and, get this, thirty-three messages. (No female friends, for the record.) I've replied to nine men. My message box has been inundated with people telling me how sexy "I" am. So, if you want to be a voyeur, or just live vicariously through Gretchen, here are the stats:
Number of men who have given Gretchen their screen name: 5
Number of men who have said they would love to hang out with Gretchen: 7
Number of men who have offered themselves for Valentine's Day: 4
Number of men who are already heartbroken because Gretchen did not write back: 1
Number of men who actually sounded genuine: 1
Number of men who have used pet names: 16
-4 out of 4 were just on the comments section: cutie, beautiful, cutie, sweetie.
In messages I've received: sweety, cutie, cute, attractive, beautiful, sexy, cutie (Cutie totally wins for the record), hun, amazing looking, (the latter two come from a message signed "love"), cutie, love, cutie, sexy,
I could probably now write a thesis on the wiles of Internet men.
Here is my favorite cheesy message:
Yikes! What's in Chestnut Hill? But I agree. Nothing like Tom Petty. I wish I knew exactly when Valentine's Day was. I remember when I was little --- like 3 or 4 --- my parents used to throw Valentine's Day parties for me and all my 4-year old friends. Now? Just the snow.
--"Gretchen says: how cute, he's trying to appeal to the sensitive/guilty side of Gretchen. Empathy people, empathy.
So girls, now you know how easy it is to find a date for Valentine's Day via Myspace. Or how easy it is to mess with people's minds... Simply put up a picture of yourself in a bikini and let the games begin. Who really needs feminism, anyway?
