Open Letter to Facebook

Dear Facebook,

We have a love hate relationship, don’t we?  I love logging in and seeing what my friends are up to, the photos they take, the groups they join, the pages they’re fans of, the quiz’s they take and getting messages from my radio friends who should be working but aren’t.  I love posting status messages that have nothing to do with anything for the sole purpose of making people laugh.  I love changing my profile picture because I think I might be slightly ADD.  I enjoy sharing silly videos that are going viral.  I confess that I even love to add people I don’t particularly like because they thought they were hot shit in high school and now they have 6 kids by 6 different dads (or they suspect anyway…paternity tests are pricey).

As much as I love you, I also loathe you.  No, I don’t want to be a fan of “I hate watching a movie with my parents when a sex scene comes on”.  You know what?  I hate that too, I really do.  My parents are huge prudes who fast forward through stuff like that because they’re so uncomfortable.  You know what though?  I don’t need to be a fan of that.  I don’t feel closer to any of the other 890 people who also feel awkward when two people are having sex like it’s the last time anyone will ever be able to do it it, ever, in the history of the world.  Stop suggesting fan pages for me, okay?  I don’t care that one of my friends is a fan of “I’d like to be dead for a day to see people’s reactions”.  You know what?  I might have to unfriend that person for being a complete and total loser.  It amazes me that there are 158, 705 people who would admit that publicly.

On a related note, remember groups?  Those are great if you have a group of people who want to have a place to talk about neat stuff like Illumination (as an example).  I would (and have) joined that group.  Thing is, I don’t want to join a group called “if 1,00o,000 people don’t join we’ll have to start paying for Facebook”. Screw off, you will not.  You know what pays for Facebook?  Ads.  Annoying ads pay for Facebook.

Oh, the ads.  I’m gay, yes.  It’s on my profile, thanks for noticing.  Stop targeting me with your ads for “The Gay Facebook” or “I Killed Jenny” t-shirts or a store where I can buy “clever” hers-and-hers bath towels and pillow shams.  I will never, ever click on your ads or buy anything from you.  No, I won’t be tricked into signing up for junk mail because “hundreds” of companies want to send girls 24-27 free stuff.  Sure they do.

Stop suggesting other languages for me to view Facebook in.  I speak English, I signed up for Facebook in English and all my posts are in English.  What do you mean?  <GASP> I can now view Facebook in Espagnol?  Asombroso!  Admittedly, I loved having my Facebook set to Pirate for a while.  How about a ye olde English setting?  Unless it’s something completely awesome and nerdy, you can fuck right off with your HUGE notices at the top of my homepage about a new language.

This really isn’t your fault but I’m putting it here anyway because you facilitate these people.  Pictures.  Sure, I’d love to see photos of your new kitten, or that trip you took to Germany last week, or that funny picture you found on the interweb.  What I don’t want to see is a photo album brimming with the same fracking picture of you over and over and over.  Here’s you smiling to the left.  Smiling to the right.  You with an unremarkable tree in your yard.  You with a pine cone.  You with a pine cone you say looks a bit like Jimmy Smits.  Fuck off with your pine cone and your 800 photos of you doing absolutely nothing of note.  Don’t make me come down there and crush that pine cone that you now have on a shelf in your room.  I know you have it on a shelf in your room because you took a goddamn photo of it.  Don’t take a picture of it next to a picture of Jimmy Smits.  Didn’t you hear me?  Crush.  Your.  Pine.  Cone.

I love finding out that my friends are in new relationships.  Huzzah for new love and getting laid on a semi/regular basis.  That’s fantastic.  Let’s go for beers and talk about how much you like your new girlfriend or boyfriend.  I’d love to see a cute picture of the two of you together.  I also get that people fight, people breakup, get divorced and people get back together.  What I don’t want to see, in my news feed (in the span of a single day) is “______ is in a ‘it’s complicated’ relationship with _____” followed by “______ is single.” followed by untagging any photos of the two of you together, trash talking your ex up and down about what an asshole/bitch he/she was to you only for you guys to get back together 24 hours later and act like everything is peachy fucking keen.  Over and over and over.  Do you know what I’m thinking when you guys have “broken up” for the 10th time in your 3 month relationship?  You’re not adult enough to be in a relationship and should do the world a favour and never procreate ever, lest you spawn children who are as big (or bigger) drama queens and attention whores than you and your “SO”.  Guess what?  I won’t chime in with your ex-bashing either…because then I have to say something like, “Oh you know when I said James was a ‘total douchebag’ who has ‘never had a single cohesive thought in that thick skull of his’?  I was just joshin’ ya.  He’s smart.”  Don’t make me lie.  I hate doing it.

Speaking of “friends” stop suggesting new friends for me.  I have never spent any amount of time with some 80 year old grannie named “Edna Power”.  I don’t care that someone I once knew 10 years ago is friends with this scary goth chick from some town I might have driven through.  In a snow storm.  As a fetus.  I don’t know her and I don’t want to know her.  Maybe she’s really nice.  Maybe she knows the cure for cancer.  Or maybe she’s the next American Idol.  When she wins and becomes world famous, you can throw it in my face, “Hey Gaynip, remember that scary goth chick you made fun of on your blog while ranting about Facebook?  Yeah, well she’s super famous.  She doesn’t want to be your friend.”  I will eat a slice of humble pie.  Until then, cut it out.

Another thing about this “friends” feature…I don’t need Facebook to tell me to reconnect with so-and-so.  I will talk to whomever I want, whenever I want.  Remember, earlier, when I said there are some people I add (as a guilty pleasure) to see what they’ve been up to since high school.  Like those smug bitchy girls who thought they were the coolest thing since sliced bread?  I added them to see what they were up to now.  6 kids you say?  All by different Dad’s?  Paternity tests are expensive?  Awesome job at Dollarama?  Wow, you were right not to hang out with me in high school…you are clearly much cooler than me.  No, no…Facebook, these people are too cool for me to write on their wall.

Status messages are a great way to find out what friends are up to.  It’s great that you got that new job (or sucks that you got fired, my condolences), I’m proud to find out that you got into college or have a hot date tonight with that trampy chick who works at Starbucks.  Great!  What I don’t give a fuck about is that you’re eating a ham sandwich.  No one cares that you’re eating a sandwich.  Is your life so completely devoid of interest that the best thing to happen to you today is a ham sandwich?  I don’t care if it’s the best ham sandwich ever made.  It’s a sandwich.  It’s right up there with that Jimmy Smits pine cone you’re so proud of (and if you take a picture of the pine cone eating that sandwich, I will bring you harm).

There you have it Facebook.  I needed to get that off my chest.  I do love you, I do.  Don’t cry, baby.  It’s not like that.  You just need to fix a few of these things so I can change our relationship status from “It’s complicated” to “Married to”.

Love somewhat conditionally,



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