It is to scream and cry and rend one’s eyes from one’s head

Two words: Friendster Magazine.
Okay, stop vomiting across your keyboard long enough for me to describe the utter revulsionistical pile of shit that is Me, even though I haven’t read or touched or spied or come within 1,000 miles of the thing.
First of all, it isn’t really from friendster.com, it’s “inspired by” the online social ineptwork (new word, use at your leisure). It’s by two gals in New York who wanted to create a magazine about, by and starring just their friends. Each issue will feature a new editor and new group of with-it, happening, groovy, all-star and beautiful “friends” who live together in a New York loft above a coffee shop called, übercutely, Central Perk.
Seriously, kill me now.

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