The Chat Scene

So, I guess this is moving a little bit into the “social commentary” aspect of the blogosphere, which I never really wanted to get into, because my opinion on the topic of anything holds about as much importance as the four Mott’s apple sauces that I just housed do to anyone who might be so bored at work that they are reading the musings of Wilos. I mean, shit, guess what Wilos thinks about the faux pas of facebook or the new Martha Stewart Cookbook! Damn, Yonder Mountain’s new album is pretty dank (heady, bra! And, this one is true, so you should care). On a side note, when I listen to music when writing I tend to ramble, so bear with me or go back to redtube.

Anyways, the reason that I am writing on a subject of such importance as the “Chat Scene” is because, well, CdM, I just love pickin up some new scene. Also, I was talking to my old skydiving buddy MJB, one of the all-time great party bois. This dude is so cool, that he is up there with Steve McQueen, Clint Eastwood, John Wayne, and Moses, and Wilos as the Top 5 coolest guys in the history of history. On a side note, thank you for happening, history, for without you my thesis wouldn't have been possible. Anyways, I said, “hey mon, my good skydiving buddy, I’m bored, just partyin by myself, have no job or friends, and want to write something stupid in my blog. What should I write about?” And my good buddy said, “hey mon, just write about the old AOL chat scene!”

And I said, “shit! Why the hell has it taken me two paragraphs to introduce this topic?” So, anyways, let’s get to the point. I used to love those AOL chats. This entry probably won’t be very good. We used to get our buddies together back in sixth grade, and it was very exclusive if you were asked by LaxRat16 to join "Sweet, Sweet 6th Graders." We would shoot the shit on topics ranging from football, to which chicks were hot and which had acne (I still do), to football, to which websites had the best (fake) topless Spice Girls pictures, and who just sprouted their first pubic hair (yuck!). By the way, a bunch of friends and I were the Spice Girls for school Halloween in 4th grade. Pretty bold move.

Then, then came the chats with the girls. Now these were fucking awesome. If you got invited by the hot blonde chick who had hit puberty three years before everyone else and had breasts the size of Granny Smith Apples, then you had fucking made it. You were set. You might as well have already accepted your bid to the best fraternity on campus six years later (sick!). Now these chats were where the most important topics on the planet were discussed: Which dance we would be attending on Friday. Whose parents would be willing and cool enough to host the spin-the-bottle party on Saturday. What was the latest horrendous inside joke or nickname that the girls had ingeniously discovered, and that us guys would have to laugh at and pretend was funny. If you weren’t chatting, you might as well resign yourself to a life of getting wedgies by the lacrosse team or getting stuffed into lockers by the football team, and wait until college to try to reinvent yourself as having an ounce of coolness.

Lastly, and these were my favorite, were the “open” chats. The chats that you had to check the box that said “I certify that I am 18” to enter. Now, if you have a pair of testicles and had access to the internet in 6th grade, and you were as sick as my friends and I were at the ripe age of 12, then you know exactly what I am talking about. You had a lot of options, here. You could go into the standard adult chats, the lesbian chats, threesome chats, and even downright weird chats. So, you would lock the door, tell your parents you were studying Latin vocabulary, and pop into your chat of choice.

You would start off by either asking for or responding to the standard “a/s/l?” question. Now, to amateurs, this might be a tricky question, but to those well-versed in the language of desperately-seeking cyber sex, this constitutes an immediate, mandatory roll call for chatters to divulge their “age, sex, and location” Now, let me give you a sample response had I replied truthfully: “12, male, sitting in the top bunk with the lights off so I have time to react if my parents come in.” However, you would naturally spit out something such as “19, m, Los Angeles.” I don’t know why, but it was always LA for me. Musta been the sunny weather. So, you’d hook up with SexxxyBabe6969 who was 21, f, Fort Lauderdale, and open up a private instant message window.

Now, as sexy babe describes her voluptuous and Coke-bottle curvy body, you are combing the Abercrombie and Fitch website for a picture of a stud in the latest fashion to email to your new girlfriend. On the other hand, sexy babe was most likely an overweight, middle-aged lady eating Dominoes Chicken Kickers and guzzling Pepsi out of a 2 liter bottle. Or, worse yet, a rail-thin, middle-aged man who was doing keyboard dusters and running a GPS search on my computer. Hmmm, pretty nice “off-campus house at USC, Wilos, which happens to be located on the east coast...” And, the conversations that transpired from that magic moment are not appropriate for this blog. However, I never got much further then the a/s/l introduction. Never had to. Hmmm.

Anyways, I have provided far too much information on the subject of middle school cyber sex, but I have no shame in general, and nobody knows who this anonymous writer from Wichita, Kansas is, right? Anyways, to wrap it up (wear those raincoats, kids!), it appears as though a revival of the various “Chat Scenes” is upon us. The leaders at the forefront of this glorious movement happen to be Skype, g-chat, smoke signals, and craigslist.

Craigslist, you ask? Just search for my ad under “19 year-old stud looking for hot MILF affair” in the Los Angeles section. I still rock the A and F long-sleeve golf shirt in my pic. Haven’t aged a bit.