Being the great son that I am, I headed back home last weekend to spend Easter with the fam, only to find out I'd be spending the weekend alone. Of all my friends from home, only one opted to make the trip back. And when I called her to see what she was doing, I was notified that she'd be spending her whole Friday night watching her recently purchased "The Complete First Season of Beverly Hills 90210." Sounded good enough to me, I had nothing else to do, but halfway through the night hanging out at the Peach Pit just wasn't cutting it for me. Maybe I couldn't handle that not one seemingly hot rich person didn't have some sort of hidden demons or those disgusting insanely patterned sweaters they loved so much or how awkward Tori Spelling looked back in her teens or how frustrated I got when Brenda couldn't locate Dylan at a hotel (come on, even Zack Morris had a cell phone). I took off early, but wasn't ready to call it a night. I knew there was no chance of any human contact, and suddenly it hit me -- a way to contact my celebrity friends I'd never even thought of before: MySpace. Everyone's on MySpace these days, surely my favorite celebrity friends would be, too. I put my pajamas on, pulled out my laptop and got in bed to have a slumber party with my friends.