Sometimes MySpace is fun.
I rarely use my MySpace. It’s a good place to keep tabs on Brandon since I don’t see him as much as I used to. It is also a good place to find good, free sex. Or so I hear from the many messages I get from guys who think I am hot and want to do me.
Today I decided to do a bit of cleaning in my inbox, and in doing so, I found a message from a guy named Brad Wolfe, who is a musician in San Francisco. He’s opening for Anna Nalick and Howie at the Fillmore in August, so he asked me to check out his music and also asked how I came to love SF, which is his hometown. That explanation, of course, was muddled and didn’t make much sense because I honestly can’t explain to you why I am all about San Francisco. I just can’t.
So then I hopped over to his profile and listened to his music. Not bad, not bad. Very much up my alley. Then I looked at some pictures of him and he’s cute in that musician way, which means I will have a raging crush on him come August. Then I read his profile, wherein he talks about how in 2000, he was a junior in college on his way to DC to be a Senate intern (hi. that’s hot.) and then his best girl friend (note she was not his girlfriend but a girl. friend. sigh. this is sad.) told him that she had been diagnosed with a rare form of bone cancer. And how he dropped everything and devoted his time to helping her by writing music and doing benefit shows and raising money for research. He even wrote her a song. And there’s a foundation for bone cancer research in her name.
Being that I’m a sucker for a) boys, b) musicians, c) San Franciscans, and d) tragedy, I am so fucked.