#HATEBOOK2013

I know I’m going to be redundant here and resurrect my inner Facebook Grinch because I have posted on this topic previously, but if I have to see one more person’s engagement ring on Facebook… or thirty-seven images of their expressionless newborn each day of the week…. or a wedding party/bridal shower/bachelorette party/engagement party/invitation card/anything pertaining to their upcoming wedding… or their child doing his/her “first” of everything (“This is Ava doing her first waving of her right hand wearing her first blue sweater and jeans combination ever”), I might throw myself out of the 10^th floor of my office building.  

I think being a twenty-something or early-thirty-something makes you a part of the worst possible subset of Facebook’s audience because it is the stage of major life changes/career changes/family changes/perpetual bragging of all these changes. And because we are the first generation to have encountered this blasphemy, we were unfortunately, given no forewarning of the misery that was to come. As you all know, I [successfully] deactivated Facebook for several months, until I missed my best friend from college’s bachelorette party because the invite was via Facebook and her sister did not know how else to reach me. For that reason, I’m back on, but I ABSOLUTELY hate it. Like I said, I know I already made a whole post about why I hate Facebook, but the past few weeks have been especially awful. 

First off, the election coverage via Facebook was miserable. If I wanted to watch coverage of the election, I would watch it on television or check out updates on Twitter feeds; I have zero desire to read your uninformed and uneducated speculations.  Politics should not be a Facebook topic. If you want to talk about politics, start a blog and write your heart out about your political beliefs so that way I can choose to read it (but more than likely, choose not to read it). Instead, I now am forced to scan your status update on my newsfeed, realize I subsequently, like you much less, and therefore, have to delete you as a friend when you might, in fact, have been a perfectly good drinking buddy.

Secondly, Twinkies are getting way more publicity than even necessary. How many much more relevant companies have gone out of business since the recession began? Why do hundreds of people on my newsfeed even REMOTELY care about some concoction of an unequivocally unpopular processed food with a questionably too-long shelf life? Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I have even seen anyone purchase or eat a Twinkie. Maybe 1996? There’s a reason they are going out of business. Innovate or throw in the towel.

Thirdly, Sunday football commentating is also unnecessary. I understand you all are avid football fans and have fantasy sports teams and a significant $20 on the line for your team to win, but come on!! WHY must I read seventy-seven people describing the same exact situation all day on Sunday… and then again on Monday… and then again on Thursday, each of which I care NOTHING about?! Guys, if you think I’m being insensitive to your likes, how would you feel if every single female on your newsfeed commented on every single character’s actions on every single episode of Real Housewives… every single season. If I’m not mistaken, I’m pretty sure after a while, all of you would rather give yourself glaucoma than have to read one more idiotic opinion about who is fighting with who on the Real Housewives.  

Social media, but primarily, Facebook is being heavily abused by you, your family and your friends. It’s up to all of you to stop it. Let’s join together and resurrect a #KONY2012-esque movement for the new year. 

#HATEBOOK2013

Pick-up Lines.

Growing up sucks. On top of moving past the prime stage of my life, and knowing that my looks (and BMI) are pretty much going downhill from here, while my biological clock is relentlessly and expeditiously ticking, I’ve been awakened by the fact that I can no longer bounce back fresh-faced and bright-eyed for work the next morning after drinking four martinis on a Wednesday night and still making it home and in bed by 11:30 PM.

Yes, you heard me. 11:30 PM. I still managed 7 hours of sleep. That doesn’t exactly constitute a rager. Regardless, I’m moving at a sloth-like pace and have put very minimal effort into my appearance this morning, while simultaneously double-fisting a Gatorade and an espresso. Speaking of which, I’m about to utilize my chemical engineering skills to create some electrolyte-induced/caffeinated, dual-purpose hydration drink for the HUGE target consumer market of twenty-eight-year-olds-going-on-fifty. And also because intermittent sips of Gatorade-infused coffee leave a vomitrocious aftertaste.

Anyway, I’m rambling. Mainly, because I have received a plethora of angry gchat messages and I’m trying to assuage my avid readers:

Richa: I miss reading your blog.

Ryan:  it's 8 nov, can you please post again on your blog so i can stalk you? thanks.

Valerie: AMARA!!!! Update your blog!!!!!

Palak: When are you going to update your blog?!

Abigail: I miss your blog!!

I suck. I’m sorry.

So anyway, I was at the bar last week with Kendall celebrating/commiserating the end of our ‘every-other-Friday-off-for-no-real-reason’ schedule. For those of you that don’t know, when our company was bought, that was the first thing the acquirer eliminated from our benefits package. So now I’m back to real world-living like the rest of you guys who work five days a week every week. And it sucks.

Back to the story: we were approached by two guys at Drinkers with the worst pick-up line I have ever heard. Listen to this:

Guy: Is your dad in jail?

Me: Wtf?! Um no?

Guy: Because if I was your dad, I would be.

So my reaction was like, “ummmmmmmmm WHAT!?”  Well, no, first, my reaction was merely a baffled facial expression, followed by shock, followed by thoughts of whether this guy was actually insane… followed by the more coherent “ummmmm WHAT?!”

Shortly after, another guy approached Kendall and told her that her “bone structure was flawless. And [her] jaw-line? Impeccable.”

So while those are very nice compliments, for a seemingly-heterosexual male to drunkenly approach her and comment on her bone structure and jaw-line at as classless of a place as Drinkers, and not any of her other assets, is more than merely questionable.

But one of my all-time favorite male interactions in life happened when this guy asked me what my ethnicity was. I always have a blast with this question, I usually pick a combination of really obscure ethnic mixes that most likely don’t actually exist “my father is from Swaziland and my mother is from Paraguay.” To which I received this HIGHLY entertaining response, “Daaaaaaaaaaamn girl, you are maaaad flavorful. Like a pack of skittles.”

Where do people come UP with this stuff? Honestly, I have to admit, there has to be some intellect behind these innovative interactions. Now if only men could channel this innovative thought-process into something more useful. Like learning to have meaningful conversations.

But then I guess I wouldn’t have anything to blog about?