My Conversation with Kiki.

To celebrate my newfound alliance with Yeeeah!, I'm going to start the week off with storytime, featuring none other than Abby's most hated celebritard, Kirsten Dunst– who I am 90% sure that I met in a chatroom as a teenager.

The year was 1996; right around the cusp of when "the internet" became a feature of online services like AOL and Prodigy, and that will be important later. My family was a subscriber to the latter, and being the teenage social leper I was at the time, spent a good deal of time in the Prodigy chat rooms.

On this particular day, I was milling around in my chat room of preference, when all of a sudden some asshole in the room starts going "DOES ANYONE KNOW KIRSTEN DUNST?"

Since apparently, no one knew or cared who Kirsten Dunst was, the person (I can't recall what screenname was used) just kept typing the same thing over and over, in caps, (of course) until I finally said, "Will you SHUT UP already?! No one fucking knows who Kirsten Dunst is!" Keep in mind this is all paraphrased, because we're going back over a decade and I'm pretty sure cursing wasn't even allowed in the chatrooms at the time. Ahhh, the age of innocence!

Now that I had gone and taken the bait, the person instant messaged me stating, "Well, I'm Kirsten Dunst!" to which I responded something mean and snarky about why I should give a shit, and blah blah. It was then that Kiki satisfactorily revealed that she was THE Kirsten Dunst, of y'know, like That Vampire Movie and then proceeds to rattle off a laundry list of other roles she had played including guest spots on ER, Sisters and etcetera.

At the time, the internet was a shadow of the behemoth it is today, and websites like IMDB simply didn't exist yet. So I didn't really understand how this person was getting such detailed information, although the more she tried to prove it to me, the less I even cared. She even went so far as to give me her phone number, which I didn't call since it was allegedly a California number and I would have gotten my ass kicked for making a long distance phone call like that. So after about 10 minutes or so, I grew tired of the little charade and signed off, not giving it much additional thought.

Fast forward to a few months later. Summertime. What happened next I remember very clearly– I was sitting outside on the deck of my family's above ground swimming pool. My sister subscribed to the usual round-up of teenybopper magazines, and I was leafing through an issue of Seventeen where I found a tiny, one page Kirsten Dunst interview. As I read, Kirsten brattily told the magazine how she and her friends enjoyed frequenting chat rooms to screw with people, at which point I proceeded to have a total Colbert-esque "NOOOOOOOO!" moment. And I have hated that assy little fang-mouth bitch-face EVER SINCE.

In conclusion, as much as it has dismayed me to witness Kirsten's rise to superstardom over the past decade, I find comfort in photos of her looking like a skanky piece of trash, like the one seen above, which are published daily by gossip sites who seem to loathe her as much as I do.