better than sexting

Every day, after I skim my emails and Facecreep, I delve into my guiltiest and most public pleasure: texts from last night. Often read aloud in my house for maximum enjoyment, this website’s contributors have the ability to touch me daily with their highs, herpes, and dry heaves.

Truthfully, I feel for these people - and their livers. The texts involving family gatherings of any kind are always personal favorites. Dragging drunken mom, grandma, and 12-year-old nephew into the equation make for great character development. I like to think I understand these twenty-something’s who boast communications degrees from Michigan State and enjoy Taco Bell’s fourthmeal, so I care about the origins of their budding alcoholism and slutuality.

Sometimes I know exactly what these crazy kids are going through, and I feel cool for being on their level. Sometimes I have no idea what they are talking about and I feel cool for having retained most of my brain cells thus far. And sometimes, my real friends outdo the parenthetical area codes I have come to know, and that scares me the most (i.e. “My aunt put a joint in my sister’s stocking. She said it was fine though, cause it was, like, 30 years old”).

At first, I hoped to join this elite group of hardcore partiers, hand selected by an invisible jury, who, judging by the website, operate via a blackberry dangling from someone’s mouth. I giddily submitted a text of my own which I thought to be quite humorous. After an hour of refreshing the browser bar I realized I had been appropriately snubbed and I never submitted again, because, unlike FML.com, TFL.nu is a prestigious publication– and I don’t dare clog their inbox while better shitshows await their national debut.

The desperation these anonymous texters display in the midst of their one-night stands and public urination not only makes me feel better about my Saturday nine o’ clock turn in, but they also give light to my life. I can feel as if I had been the genius to put brownies and mousetraps on (330)’s front porch, without needing to wonder why half of (330)’s kitchen floor is missing. (Ohio has some issues).

I invite you to indulge irresponsibly in the entertainment TFL.nu offers. Browse the country by most embarrassing walk of shame. Vote whether (414) had a “Good Night” or a “Bad Night” after waking up to pictures of them barbequing wings with a blowtorch. Or, if you are like me, simply watch in awe from outside with your nose pressed against the glass.