Friday, April 23, 2010

So you wanna be an internet startup _______?

_pornstar_?

The internet has seen it all, and it has shared all with us. How many musicians out there got their big break through Myspace? (I'm looking at Lilly Allen, yes, her). I don't know. Tons. Mark Zuckerberg got crazy rich when he moved the Harvard Facebook to a server farm. Hell, throw in some Chris Crocker for good measure.

Yes, I've been straying from the topic. It's not as if I really wanted to share my insight into the subject introduced by the title, but I felt like my creativity needed another output. Basically, the internet will make you famous, even for the proven 2 seconds of full attention that the average internet junkie will sacrifice...just for you. For fraks sake, all Chris Crocker had to do was put aside the fact that he's gay and propose to Britney Spears complete with a ring of tears.

So pornstars have been complaining about the internet, and how it is shaking up this billion moolah industry and bring it to its knees, pun intended. We can't help it! Orgasms are good. Free is good. Porn is good. Free orgasms from free porn...hmm, you get it. After all, when we get down to it, it's the action that matters. Who wants to watch all the prefuck bad acting and dialogue anyway? Just start blowing him already for fraks sake.

Ok, gross.

Ok really, I'm about to let go of some inside info here. Bear with me. All right, here goes.

I have a camera, which takes videos, you know, like every other camera out there. It also takes pictures, 'cause you know, it's a camera. Lately, it took a liking to taking nude pictures,
and film. Of my girlfriend, and yours truly. Come on, everyone does it. I bet even Oprah does it. Frak me if Simon Cowell hasn't done it. Point is, it's not really a big deal. Got over it already? Yeah. Good.

So all these moving pictures and stills, they go to my trusty macbook, of course. And since my girlfriend's semi-dumb-ass computer can't see me on the uni network, she asks me to transfer everything into her usb stick. Of course she wants a copy. So there it goes, file transfer completed into a folder on the frakkin homepage of the thumbdrive. And she calls the folder 'tiger.'

Mind you, tiger has months of data in it. Months.

Then we go to London and act gayer than gay we made G-A-Y just a little straighter, except I apparently semi-passed out on a chair and still managed to give the cabbie directions to the hostel, which was on a pub. On a pub, bitch. But that's for another day. There's another camera, with a really funny person in it. It's a cylon camera. And it took pictures, of us of course. And the pictures go into a folder. Guess where? On the damn thumbdrive. And the folder is called 'snogging.'

So...tiger and snogging live their happy lives in this thumbdrive. Everything's fine. Life is good in the real world and in the 8gig volume of the thumbdrive. Stuff gets added, maybe, but stuff never got deleted. Then they get lost. tiger and snogging. They get lost in the woods, in the real world. In a room full of computers, and people who aren't my girlfriend. My girlfriend leaves them in this scary world full of people who might be deviant enough to peruse other people's lost thumbdrives...

So there. If I ever make it to TheChive, or Xtube, or Tube8, or the gods know where...please tell me. My girlfriend and I are pretty hot...nymphlike, the type Humbert Humbert would fall for. I can see your boner right now, and you're gay. Slap it down ho.

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