Today is day 9 of having cut my credit card into little pieces and tossing it into my work waste basket in a clear-cut (no pun intended) case of pure unadulterated insanity.
At the time of the incident, I had absolute rock-solid reasoning behind my decision. I am spending too much money. My credit card is like materialistic crack. I had just spent 55 dollars on a body pillow. I had hit some twilight zone form of superficial bizarre rock bottom. (Who reaches rock bottom after buying a body pillow you may be asking yourself. ME TOO, friends, ME TOO.)
Which is why I’d like to also note, I don’t even really need a body pillow. (who honestly NEEDS a body pillow you may be asking yourself. Again.. me too.) I mean yes, I have spent the past three mornings waking up to myself completely straddling such object like it was my giant cotton fiber filled boyfriend (which is both slightly sad and disturbing) but honestly, it is random and completely unnecessary decisions such as impulsive body pillow purchases that lead me to Tuesday morning around 11 AM with a pair scissors in my hand as I ceremoniously cut my baby credit card into at least 15 pieces straight into the waste can receptacle.
And at the time? I felt liberated. I am free from this madness! I can finally be financially independent and save money and become a stockbroker and understand what bonds and dividends are and invest in things like crocs and google+. Fongoul credit card ball and chain! That’s right interest. I got yo number. I am coming for you.
…3 days later…
WHY DID I DO THAT!!?!?!?!?
Come back little plastic piece of joy. I am having withdrawals similar to that one episode of Touched by an Angel where that drug addict is recovering as Monica the Angel stands by and makes sure he doesn’t die through all his creepy sweating, hallucinations and stanky leg movements.
(On that note: I used to LOVE that show. Who’s with me? I see a marathon in our future but anyway)
I’m not going to go into the details with you all about my financial hardships. Let’s just say my daily coffee runs and impulsive breakfast burritos (sorry for partying, Vogue magazine) decisions have been funded by my dear friend VISA for quite some time. It is tragic that this relationship has ended so quickly. Also, I really want to go to the Bieber concert. And Taylor Swift’s new CD. GAH WHY MUST GROWING UP BE SO EXPENSIVE!?
Dad, I miss you.
Just kidding. (….I actually really do miss my dad guys. Hi Dad.)
But seriously what is up with everything costing money? I think there are some things in society that should be just naturally free.
For instance– deodorant and toothpaste. IMAGINE how much better homeless people would look and smell with those two commodities comped. Actually forget homeless people, there are probably hundreds of actually employed 22-27 year old
MEN boys who would benefit tremendously from this economic societal solid.
Or what about something simple. Like cheese. What if cheese were free.
Sadly, this will never be the case.
So beyond the fact that I just publicly asked for a removal of fees on cheese as well as openly discussed my new relationship with my impulsively bought body pillow, what I am about to write is probably going to just go ahead and hammer the nail on the head of my already dignity stripped day.
So anyway, I was on Facebook the other day–
(…who am I kidding. I’m on Facebook all day everyday. But I just chopped up my credit card guys. Let’s focus on pointing out one social crutch at a time here.)
And I realized that I have yet to really critique my favorite social media source of constant procrastination. And there are some things that need to be addressed. Because come on.. you know you’re thinking it too.
(Disclaimer: Feel free to de-friend me on Facebook and real life after how much I’m probably about to make myself look like a petty, pathetic creepy freak. I can’t help that I am the voice of my generation. And that I constantly suffer from #FirstWorldProblems, as they say Twitter.)
So without further ado,
a roast on behalf of our favorite little multi-billionaire asshole philanthropist…..
Dear Mr. Zuckerberg–
fan addict of yours right here. I thought as one of your biggest supporters enablers, you might benefit from some positive constructive criticism on behalf of your site, FACEBOOK.COM. Some things that I think are hurting my (everyone’s) overall social media experience.
Basically… you’ve ruined my life asshole. I’m being force-fed my own social inadequacies while having my personal insecurities brought to light all while being subjected to possibly the biggest waste of time since puzzles and beanie babies were invented.
How do we fix this?
Well, in regards to my above recent credit card death—
Feel free to cut (pun intended) me a check for 2 billion dollars. For the obvious emotional and intellectual damage you have caused me.. irreparably. Also, if you could introduce me to your friend Justin Timberlake so that we may finally cement our inevitable real-life love-request and live a beautiful socially awkward life together in dorky holy matrimony.. I think that should probably cover it.
Oh yeah. Hey babe.
….In the meantime while I humbly await your response, here are my thoughts. Feel free to “dislike” them. But there isn’t a button for that, so I’ll probably assume you accept my request.
My sucks to zuck List:
5. Facebook friend requests suck.
Things you never hear:
“Ughhhh. Who’s this random totally cute guy asking to be my friend on Facebook again?! This is like the third time this week. Omg like sooo annoying!“
Right.. And why?? Because that never freaking happens.
First of all, I seem to only get friend requests from my parents friends. Or my grandpa. Or some random girl I met in line for the bathroom at some bar I didn’t even like and the only reason I talked her ear off was because I had had several whiskey waters at this point and if I didn’t focus on talking I would have probably peed my pants. Like who is this bitch? Oh right. THAT girl. Dammit, she found me.
And furthermore, when I do meet a really cute boy and we like SO hit it off and it’s pretty much wedding bells ALL UP on this news feed and then for days I’m like wait. Do I ask him to be my friend? Or do I wait? Do I ask him? .. OR do I wait? What is this! Some retarded virtual flower pedal removing version of he loves me, he loves me not?! Aren’t we already friends? What have you done to me Zuckerberg?
So then I decide, you know what? It’s the new frontier. I’m not some 50’s poodle skirt wearing Sandy from Grease freak waiting by the corded non-caller id phone for my one and only to say he’s hopelessly devoted to me. Nope. I am my own woman and I am going to friend request MYSELF. Yep, doin’ it.
….Except then, somehow I am Sandy. And instead of the phone waiting, I’m refreshing my Facebook and waiting for a notification. And then I realize what I’m doing, and internally cry and go make a sandwich for all the men in my office and pretend I can’t vote. Or own land. And I come with a cow dowry. And wear a bonnet.
BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT FACEBOOK FRIEND REQUESTS HAVE DONE FOR THE WOMEN’S RIGHTS MOVEMENT, LADIES.
Oh! He accepted! Yay! This is so so so so so so so so exciting!
Except wait, no it’s not.
Because you know what usually happens then?
Oh, just NOTHING.
Most anti-climatic experience pretty much ever. It’s like some huge present at Christmas that you wait for WEEKS to open and then when you do it’s towels from your Aunt. And you’re like WHAT!? Who gives towels at christmas? Go back to your home on Planet Practical, Aunt Failure. I am so not sending you a wedding invite to me and Bieber’s wedding. ..It’s the same with a Facebook friend acceptance. You go to their page and everything is blocked except that they like The Who and their favorite quote is “Everybody wang chung tonight” and you’re like I waited for hours/days/ a week and a half for this bullshit!? You have no depth. I hate you. Total letdown. You boring waste of Facebook space. Oh. 42 profile pictures? Don’t mind if I do..
4. Facebook chat’s new little “seen @ insert time of guilt here”.
Damn you Zuckerberg. Now, I can’t just outright ignore someone’s message and then blame the ambiguity of the uncertainty of the internet as to why I never responded. You’ve basically forced me to either be blatantly rude, or have to acknowledge messages I would have otherwise ignored if there wasn’t that stupid time stamp. On the other hand, the door swings both ways, so don’t even try to not respond to my message Trang Pak. I know what you what you were doing with Coach Carr in the projection room above the auditorium.
3. Unnecessary news-feed anxiety
Why do certain people pop up on my news feed Zuckerturd? I don’t trust their presence. Are they completely random? Or are they people who secretly stalk me? If that’s the case.. I’m so screwed. Yes it’s true, Alex Stamos. I still look through your pictures. I JUST MISS YOU OK!!!!! But seriously. I’m suspicious/ internally terrified that Facebook secretly works like LinkedIn and one day they are just going to make a big blanket announcement that you can see who viewed people’s profiles and all of a sudden, I’m going to be in a lot of trouble for still gazing longingly at profile picture 25 of my personal Great White Buffalo.
2. You’ve turned me into a walking, talking, mouse-clicking paradox of a person.
You’ve made me feel old. And single. Usually at the same time. All of a sudden, this little “so and so” got engaged to “so and so” is at the top right of my screen. Where did this come from? What makes you think I want to know about this!? It was enough when it was just birthdays up there and I was like oh great I missed brother’s birthday.. again. But now, you’re not only shoving my flakey memory down my own throat but also my endless walk of singledom as well? Good morning couple getting engaged on top of a mountain! Oh me? I woke up cuddling my body pillow this morning. Yes, we’re very happy together. Sob.
And I was fine five minutes ago, but now I see with increasing frequency this little virtual refrigerator engagement announcement popping up on my screen without any of my say and all of a sudden I’m a 23 years old and my closest relationship is with a life-size rectangle stuffed with cotton and I’m insecure about it ok? Just love me.
However, at the same EFFING time, I see all these drunk college photo uploads and I’m like ermygawwwd, I miss when it was completely socially acceptable to drink jumbo-sized margaritas at noon on a Tuesday and then head to Psychology 101. Sigh. The drunk is wasted on the youth.
So in conclusion, here I am with some weird internal clock ticking combined with my need to drink as much alcohol as physically possible to maintain my youthful glow. And it occurs to me.. maybe I have found the inspiration to Britney Spear’s major motion picture hit, “I’m not a girl, not yet a woman“. Just a thought.
Look at the time.
So the number one way you’ve ruined my life Zuckerberg?
That you haven’t ruined it at all. God dammit. You’ve improved it. Ten fold.
And here’s why:
It is the single greatest reconnecting, connecting, meeting, greeting, all around incredible social tool that has ever graced the planet. It is a moving, breathing, 24-hour, around the clock, party. It’s a platform that supports freedom of speech, a chance to promote new ideas, a way to experience others cultures. It’s people’s lives on a screen. I no longer have to lose touch with my high school friends for no reason.
Nope. I will do it purposefully after I see their 250 thousand posts about being a vegan. Or playing farmville. Or their new rotund ginger baby playing with dirt.
You’ve given me a choice to keep in or lose touch. It makes relationships more meaningful because for those who really use it, it gives depth to their lives from where you left off talking. Sure, some may call it creeping, but me? I call it catching up without talking. I’m saving us both time! You could tell me about your family reunion or I could look at the ten thousand pictures you posted of your great-uncle ted playing shotput while mindlessly zoning during my lunch hour. We could talk about your new-found passion for saving the endangered monkeys in Iraq or you could invite me to 7 different virtual events that I systematically decline on a continuous reel.
Gosh, catching up is fun. Let’s do this again soon.
Anyway, that’s it for now. Got a big 3-day weekend to post this upcoming next few days so I’ll catch you all on the flip side.
Oh and Mark. Markie. Marka-marka-marksalot zuckerberg?
I can take that check in cash form too. Girls who cut up their credit cards aren’t picky.
Ok.. I’m “like” outta here