Having tried for several times in vain to log on my MSN, I furiously flung
aside the mouse and cursed in mind the computer's caprice....
Before long, this fit of anger soon gave way to my usual calmness; after
all, there is nothing indeed in a hurry for me to use the MSN. Since that,
whence my irrational outburst?
The MSN addiciton. To log in MSN is literally one of my daily routines; ten
minutes or less, I just can't check the itch to have a browse on MSN. Frankly
and curiously, it's as irresistible as drugs to its slaves: the lure haunts.
Accordingly, I'm captured as a hopeless prey to MSN. Pitiful.
In romantic diction, MSN is somewhat like a mental shelter harboring lonely
souls. For example, friends are rendered freely available by MSN; what's more,
every MSN user is given a privilege to choose whom to talk to the way you
select shelved articles in a supermarket. For what it's worth, MSN is the
communal friend between you and me.
~~No ecstasy is brought by MSN; but just some mental nods.~~
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