Xanga Username: Katiefinger ... always has been, always will be.  Oh, except for the time when some pretentious tart was annoying me and I created another account to write (creatively) about the situation.  (And then just continued to use that particular username to write creatively about other stuff too.)

Xanga Birthdate: July 2003. Giving you an exact date would mean toddling off to look for it, and I really can't be arsed.

Xanga "Statuses": TRUE, but I had to ask for it.  That really irked me.  I wrote a post about it ... yep, it irked me that much.  Also Premium, but I doubt I'll bother rekindling that fire when it dies down.  Xanga isn't what it used to be.  *sigh*

Xanga Profile Picture: I have one ... you should be able to see it over there ... *points haphazardly towards the right of your monitor* 

First Xanga Friend: Um, possibly Lyns, closely followed by Zoë and Polly.  None of them post here anymore. 

Subsequent Xanga Friends: Many. There was the lovely Chris Sexie, the punky Jason, the quirky Susie, the bookish Karen, the elusive Chris who couldn't get a job, the Internet-seller, the bi-sexual teenager, the butcher, the baker and the candlestick-maker.  Oddly enough none of them post here anymore.  More recently there's you, if you're reading this.

Xanga BFFs: If I like you, you'll be my friend elsewhere.  I don't need a Best Friend Forever on Xanga.  Thanks.

Xanga Family: Family?  I don't spend Christmas with anyone on Xanga.  Nor do I sleep with anyone on Xanga.  I also never had a bath as a child with anyone on Xanga.  There might be somebody on Xanga I would have a bath with now, but that wouldn't be because I wanted to be his sister.  If I argued with anyone on here they wouldn't forgive me in the way that family can, the sort of forgiveness that comes from knowing someone inside out and outside in, from shared experiences (both good and bad) and from real love. 

Other Close Xanga Pals: Didn't I cover this?  If not, just re-read the above.

Other Xangans Worth Mentioning: Probably most of the people I subscribe to.  I shan't list them. 

Xanga Likes: The ... nope.  The ... um, no.  I'll come back to this one (one day, possibly.) * 

Xanga Dislikes: Pleading, pulsing, arse-licking, religous nutters ... Those who whine and those who have no sense of humour.  Also, those who love themselves.  It's no surprise that Xanga is full of folk like that.

Official Xanga Achievements: None.  Go me!

Unofficial Xanga Achievements: I know I've made people laugh in the past.  I know that I've emotionally touched people in the past.  I was somebody's unofficial Mom for a long while.  Awww ... Damn, I should have kept that quote. I stayed when most other folk left for pastures new ... I think that deserves some sort of recognition.  I shall make myself a badge. 

Recommending Habit: I don't.  Or I did, once. 

Commenting Habit: I comment on most posts posted by folk I subscribe to.  I think it's rude not to (which isn't to say that I only comment because I feel I should; it actually means that I like the person and am interested in all the things that occur within their lives and their heads and therefore I like to show that I care, or otherwise.)

Timestamping: I've never done it.  It's a silly feature and serves me no purpose.

Protected Posting: I used to do it a bit more.  Now I don't care.  I'm anonymous enough for it not to matter.

Xanga Themes: Black on white (or white on black) always does it for me. Oh yes.
 
Xanga Pulse: I have Facebook for that.  Oh, and Twitter now, but I keep forgetting!  Silly me.

Xanga Plugz: I have no idea what Plugz is, pleaze.

Xanga Hopes: I want all the groovy people to come back. There are only a limited number of groovy people left.  We're a dying breed ...  

Last Words:  Oh Xanga.  You used to be so good.  You used to be so fine.  I used to run home from school to see what delights you'd thrown my way!  My days were a blur of Xanga thought processes and flirtatious commenting with folk I had never met in Real Life.  You've taught me that nothing Good lasts for ever, that people come and go (and sometimes disappear) with increasing ease, and that I'm ... hmmm.  I'm just a teeny-tiny speck in the Great Big Blogosphere of Life; I'm just not as important as I thought I was.  Blogging used to be for the cool kids, but now it seems to be for every Tom, Dick or Harry and, perhaps unfortunately, every Tom, Dick and Harry these days seems to be the sort of Tom, Dick or Harry who is exactly the same as every other Tom, Dick or Harry who thinks they have something interesting to add to the Great Big Blogosphere of Life.

Nothing is sacred.

(with thanks to Lucy, whom I snabbed this from)

*the funniness of some (fundamentalist) 'Christian' folk who post on here. (I thought of something for Xanga Likes.  Yay!) 

please God bless Xanga and make it merry xxx Elsabeth

(I have never been to the United States of America and I can count the number of American people I have spoken to - face-to-face - on one hand.  But I won't let such a triviality stop me from writing this post.)

My knowledge of the United States is plentiful.  Everything I know, I know because I saw it on the tellybox, or I heard it on the (BBC) news, or I saw it in a film, or Judy Blume told me.  More recently, if I know it, I know it because of you, Oh American Reader on an American blogging site primarily used by American folk. 

Some of what I know is very mundane.  I know that when you say you're going for a walk along the sidewalk, you really mean you're taking a stroll on the pavement.  I know that when you speak of that bum sitting on his fanny in the subway, you really mean that tramp sitting on his bum in the underground.  I happily forgive you your laziness when it comes to omitting the 'u' in words such as favourite or colour, but I know that you know that when I say 'I couldn't care less' I trump your 'I could care less' (and I know that you know that mine makes more sense.)

You went to elementary school, I went to primary school.  You Thank, I Box.  You drink in bars, I drink in pubs.  You balance your checkbook, I balance my chequebook.  You drive on the right, I (don't) drive on the left.  You have a back yard, I have a back garden.  Your uncle is Sam, my uncle is Bob.

But some of what I know is very important.  I know, for example, that you all own guns.  Not only do you all own guns, but you all use them to hunt animals in mountains.  When you're not using them to hunt animals in mountains, you're using them to shoot each other, often in public places.  I'm aware that most of you, even those who are professionally trained, are not Good Shots though.  Phew!

I also know that you're either popular in school, or you're a nerd.  Popular (rich) kids ridicule nerdy (often poor) kids, but it's ok because the nerdy (often poor) kids always come out tops, usually with the help of lots of blood and gore.  Staying with the teenage theme, I know what kids on Band Camp get up to ...

Everybody who lives in Queens is Hispanic. Everybody who lives in Brooklyn is the member of a gang.  Everybody who lives in Texas is a cowboy.  (Jessica Fletcher is the killer.) 

I know that religion is very important in American society, apparently as long as it's something safe (like Christianity or Judaism.)  It's fine for a Christian in America to spout hate and judge people in the name of God, but woe betide if a Muslim even attempts to open his mouth about anything.

When the Day of Judgement/End of the World comes along, America is going to be the country that gets all the action.  But that's cool, because you have the means (and money) to save yourself from destruction.  Aliens seem to like America more than any other country on the planet ... it must be like having that odd family member that nobody likes, constantly visiting you (but without the sweets candy.)

I know that America rules the world. But Scientology owns America. 

(I'm not sure which is scarier.)

please God bless America, for she is lovely xxx Elsabeth