If You Give a Mouse a Cookie...there will probably be cockroaches.

The first time I go online, I'm slightly taller than four feet, slightly smarter than a jar of margarine, and incredibly curious as to what will happen when this little yellow AOL man finishes running.  Finally, after a series of sounds akin only to those of an independent horror flick and an array of flashing lights that would put Aurora Borealis to shame, Jaundice Man qualifies for the semi-finals and I am taken to a "home page".  "Funny," I think to myself; "This looks nothing like my house!"  Desperate for some familiarity from my eight years of life-- most of which had been spent picking my nose and putting a mirror under my parents bedroom door in an attempt to find out how babies are made--I go up to the address bar and type the first thing that a little Rugrats-watching, fruit roll-up eating girl could think of: "www.girls.com", I peck with my pointer fingers.

And within seconds, i know what a pussy really is.

In all honesty, I'm glad that I got the "Birds and the Bees" as a high resolution 30-second clip from between the legs of some young woman who called herself "Jizmine".  Until then, the only sex talk I knew was the "It's okay to masturbate; just don't touch my daughter" speech I'd hear my mom give any time my older sister brought a boy home from junior high.

But how do you thank the internet for providing you with everything, short of breast milk, you need to grow?  This tool that helped you get (i.e. cheat) through high school, reacquainted you with all your old friends you meant to forget, and provided you with non-stop BDSM entertainment along the way deserves some cred.

I typed "Thank you!" in the search bar and hit "enter", but all google did was mock me.

So this is my thanks, World Wide Web.  In reparation for teaching me what a rim job is and letting me borrow your notes on "The Color Purple", I give you this: a shitty blog.

-Ellie