Here's the deal: I'm not really Sparkle. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I'm someone else. This someone else has a business e-mail address and Web site, another Web site, an ebay account, a couple of random "back-up" free e-mail boxes, and online IDs for anything and everything you can imagine.
I thought I pretty much had a grip on all of my selves until yesterday morning, when my bosomy goth elf self popped out. I think this is one self too many, and my head is reeling. Who am I? Where am I? What's the frequency, Kenneth? Here is the transcript from yesterday morning:
Teenage Boy: "So, this is my myspace, Sparkle. These are my friends, and this is my music, and--"
Sparkle: "Your mood is weird?"
Teenage Boy: "Yeah! See, you can put down what your mood is, and if you're having a bad day all your friends can give you comments to make you feel better..."
Sparkle: "Awww...that's nice! Hey, who's that girl with the guitar?"
Teenage Boy: "That's my friend China."
Sparkle: "She plays guitar?"
Teenage Boy: "No. She likes to pose with it."
Teenage Boy: "So, let's set you up and I can send you messages if you're having a bad day!"
Sparkle: "Well, I don't know, uh--"
Teenage Boy: "Yeah. Just type your e-mail address in here and pick a password."
Sparkle: "Well, thank you! This is very nice of you, and I guess I can always remove this if--"
Teenage Boy (begins to heave giant handfuls of HTML around): "Sure, whatever! Now, how old are you, what do you do, how much money do you make, what do you want your quote to be, are you single, what are you looking for here, and--"
Sparkle: "Whoa...that's too fast there. I'm off work today. I haven't had enough coffee for this. Look. Just put stuff down for me, okay?"
Teenage Boy is a blur, arms windmilling, slinging wild clumps of HTML back and forth, up and down.
Sparkle: "Whoa--you're good at this, aren't you?"
Teenage Boy: "Yeah. So, when the zombies attack my mom promised me I could use her truck to go to the gun store, empty it out, then I'll come and pick you up."
Sparkle: "Well, thanks, I--"
Teenage Boy: "Okay, your page is all set up. You're 26, you're a magician, and you make $250,000 large a year. Wait! Let me finish inputting your layout and background."
Sparkle: "Huh? Wuzzat? Who the heck is this 'Tom' guy who says he's my friend?"
Teenage Boy: "Eh, ignore him. Here, I'll remove Tom."
Sparkle: "Okay, not that I have anything against Tom, but--"
Teenage Boy: "Sparkle! Let's get a picture up of you! Do you have any pictures of yourself on this computer?"
Teenage Boy: "Okay, okay. Calm down. We'll get something up. Here, this is where I go to do quizzes--favorite color, would you save a small whimpering creature behind a bush, what would you smell like if you were a food, if it itches do you scratch it or ignore it, paper or plastic?"
Teenage Boy: "Good, okay. Let me just generate the answer and COOL! That's a nice picture of a goth elf.
Sparkle: "Heyyyyyyy, I'm kinda cute!"
Teenage Boy: "Okay. Let's do this quiz. Would you eat someone or simply dismember them? Sun or moon? Do you have 10 toes?"
Teenage Boy: "Okay! Your anime hair color is brown!"
Sparkle: "GEEZ! My REAL hair color is brown! I answered those questions so I would end up with GREEN hair! What happened? And, what's this thing with my anime picture? 'You're really normal and may try to blend in the crowd or stand out of it. Because for some reason you're gorgeous but you're not ultra special. You're still very sweet and down-to-earth.' Okay, put my mood down as 'Angry'."
See? This identity is one too many. While the bosomy goth elf thing is kinda cool, it's just flat-out frustrating that I couldn't manipulate the quiz into giving anime me green hair. Moreover, my shadowy anime self sounds dang boring, and I'm struggling to get rid of the whole thing. Tell ya one thing: I'll be finked if I'm gettin' a "Zwinky."