Facebook, It's Not Me, It's You

Oh, hey Facebook. Good to see you again, kind of. I just wanted to get you alone and, well, maybe you could shut the fuck up a little bit.

Listen, I didn’t get you at first. I thought you were a weird place where I was supposed to join groups that my friends were in, like, “Bonin’ in the Library!” and “I love Frosted Flakes!”. Which I did not and I do not, respectively. Then you added photos, and it pretty much spiraled out of control from there. There are 1,948 photos of me on there, Facebook. I’m not exaggerating, either. This is not my fault. This is yours. Where else can you post 60 pictures of one night and have it be acceptable? You know where. And really, is it necessary? No. The answer is no, it is not.

We’ve really got to talk about this whole “relationship status” thing, too. Cause, honestly, kill me. I’ve been in a platonic Facebook relationship with my (girl)friend Meatball for about two years now. But still, it doesn’t calm the pang of crazy that I get whenever I see that an ex of mine has a new girlfriend. Not at all. So maybe we should all keep it to ourselves, right Facebook?

Oh, and the People You May Know feature? Maybe you should rename it to People From High School That I Will Probably Never Friend Ever. Because I won’t. If I’m not friends with them through the Facebookverse, then we’re probably not aware enough of each other to become fake internet friends.

While I’ve got you here, maybe we could chat about statuses. They’re like AIM away messages from the future, right? Because I guess Dave Matthews quotes still apply to some people. Having things like “FINALZ R HARD” run from my eyes to my brain is difficult for me. People are dicks, Facebook. People are dicks with nothing to say, and giving them a platform on which to say nothing is a bad idea.

I mean, I love you. I really do – quit whimpering, you’ll fry your servers. Listen, I just think it would be nice if I could quit you. But I can’t, Facebook. I just can’t quit you.