It's almost 2 a.m. and I'm outside, a cross-legged heap with a laptop, leeching wireless from a sleeping family near my apartment.
Pet by pet, buck by buck, I will be among the kings of the Facebook application You're A Hottie. I will end the reign of the warlord Poundstone, the man who invited me to this game.
And I will give him a stupid nickname.
Days before I became the pathetic wreck I am now, I overheard the most insightful conversation on African politics I've ever heard in passing. When the group left, I actually felt shame for being stuck in a bubble where I worry more about owning icons of friends rather than political violence in Africa.
Forgive me if I come off as insensitive to global affairs, but the shame I felt quickly faded once I realized that the Hottie application is a great way to look at humanity.
The lovechild of three Berkeley graduates at CLZconcepts.com resembles the tangled mess of international politics, economics and human psychology G
Mahamed becomes Uncle Jesse Matthew turns into Uncle Joey etc. Soon I had the whole (extended) Tanner family.
The next time he saw my Hottie collection, he thought, Golly
that is the whole extended Tanner Family. I want them. And so he gobbles them all up, sticking him with worthless Hotties and giving myself more cash to repeat the process from Step-by-Step to A Different World.
If this keeps up, I will become the dominant Hottie, swallowing up his loved ones without remorse.
And when I weigh out my Hottie dominance and that lost moment to have had an insightful conversation on African politics, I will wonder if I sacrificed my time wisely.
But how else can one afford a $300,000 Hottie without losing a small part of one's soul?
Oh, I see. It's a pyramid scheme. You get $500 HB per invited friend.
I ' I've been used.
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Justin Noga
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