Let me tell you a little bit about technology. It fucking rocks.
Today I ordered a pizza from Papa Johns online, while watching
Spankwire, and DVRing the new hit HBO miniseries, The Pacific, from my
cell phone. It was convenient, titillating, and captivating all rolled
into one awesome 15 minute break in the office kitchen. Really -- the
stuff people have figured out to do with technology.
But, more specifically, the internet. The information superhighway is a
vast and infinite hole full of Brazilian fart porn and ways to
purchase knock off Gucci on the cheap.
Outside of all those www's: something else happened: a new way to
instantly communicate with anyone, anywhere, as long as they had a
modem (har har) and a computer. Do you remember AOL Instant
Messenger? I do. It was on AOL that I broke up with my first
girlfriend, and then had the rebound girl explain to me that she
shaved her box. Seriously. I was 16. Awesome.
But somewhere along the lines AIM took the back-burner to a new
e-mail/instant chatter in one. Gchat. And here comes the
revolutionary part, girls use the hell out of it. So what do I do? I
g-flirt.
That's right. The art of tactfully disarming a future hook-up online
has become ever more achievable. Instead of multiple coffee dates and
movie nights with no touching, I write expense reports and chat babes all
fucking day long. Maybe I met you at the bar and we drunkenly danced,
but you got freaked out when I tried to get you to back it up on me.
You ran away, but I friend-ed you on Facebook and now we're gchatting
everyday -- now you're done.
G-flirting is the fucking tits. I've never gained more intimate,
personal knowledge from a member of the opposite sex as readily and
quickly as I now do through g-flirting. It's retarded. Of course
there are some draw backs. When we finally go on a real date to see the Oscarworthy performance of Jeff Bridges as Bad Blake in Crazy Heart,
and I take you to a Thai restaurant for dinner, it feels a little
forced sharing info face to face. That's OK. You looked hot in that
top anyway.
And there's so much more liberation in telling someone all your dirty
little secrets without actually seeing them. It's so easy. Just a
few strokes of the key. And I stroke right back. G-flirt stylie. See
you on the dance floor.
POSTED BY A SO SO T-REX, the cheeky flirt
toolbox
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