Like many red-blooded Americans (though apparently not some Canadians), I love Facebook. I really do. Facebook is like going to a big old college party: everyone is everyone’s BFF, there’s a lot of skanks and there’s bound to be at least 5 pictures of someone either naked, puking or both.
The increased “Facebookization” of our generation also means that people say stalker things like, “Oh yeah, I know you from so-and-so’s Facebook pictures” or “Yeah, I know, on Facebook the other day…” like they were talking about Wall Street or working on The Hill.
But what I can’t stand about Facebook is all the “bumper sticker” small talk that goes on there. You know what I’m talking about.
“I Went to the Applebee’s and Got Charged Too Much” group
“My Mom Says That If I Get Pregnant Again I HAVE To ‘Get Married’ ” group
“I Can’t Tell The Difference Between Chinese and Japanese People” group
“I Hired a Day Laborer and He Stole My iPod” group
They’re all ridiculous. I mean, what’s the point when you join one of these groups? On Facebook, you’re supposed to interact with people, so what do you tell people when once you’ve joined?
“Hey, you know what happened to me once? I, “Went to Cancun And Mistakenly Banged My Cousin”! What, you too?! Get outta here! Oh wait, is this my cousin? Shit, don’t tell Nana about what happened. Or, our child.”
So, I’m going to start a “I Read The Kids Don’t Get It Blog and My Junk Has Grown” group–and I want you to join, readers.
Are you with me?