Okay, 24 hours later, I’m already addicted. There’s just something intriguing about a site full of people pretending to be little girls, when we know good and damn well that “Muffy St. Jacques” is probably someone’s grandfather. And, you know, although the chat window’s small for loquacious types like me, you can kinda talk to people here–unlike the chat rooms on AOL, which are either stuffy or slatternly and nothing in-between. And even though you don’t get to see the other folks online, looking at an avatar is sorta close. Well, sorta….
Still, something about the whole endeavor seems vaguely unsatisfying. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s timed, or maybe it’s because I feel compelled to maintain the illusion of being Soleil Moon Frye (the erstwhile Punky Brewster), even though I’d rather come out as a penis-wielding, testosterone-laden nancy boy who can nevertheless sissyfight with the best of ’em. Maybe they should offer a few different versions of the game–like one in which you play a prepubescent drag queen. That would be a game worth getting into.
sturtle [dot] com 