I don’t necessarily think I’m an asshole person, but I kind of dislike people as a general rule.
And joining Facebook has only exacerbated my problem because simply put, people abuse the status update feature and now, said dislike has morphed into hatred.

I don’t want (or care) to look for your husband, “Frank the Tank at the Super Bowl!” (I don’t care much for sports [or for Frank, quite frankly]). I couldn’t care less that you just got back from the gym but ’splurged’ on a doughnut or that you drank three martinis, but it’s “OK” because you went for a run earlier. Do you really need to tell me [on Facebook] that you just had two moles removed by your dermatologist and subsequently need to play the waiting game while they are biopsied? Or about your son’s ear infection and how you “hope he (he=your 1 year old son WHO CANNOT READ!) feels better soon!”? And thanks for sharing that you “talked” your husband into taking the kids to school so you could “finally” sleep in. (Fool, get a divorce!)

Seriously?
Tell.
Someone.
Who.
Cares.
Because, I sure as hell do not give a rats ass that you’re “excited about your new haircut”, or that you’re “at El Pollo Loco for dinner” or that you’re driving to “Wisconsin!!!! for the weekend.”
If you must post a status update–give me a scandal. Tell me who you’re banging. Pose an interesting question. Quote something brilliant. (Like Fletch or Lucille Bluth.) But please (please) don’t tell me you just “dropped a deuce at a Holiday Inn in Flagstaff.”

I also loathe passive aggressive status updaters. (I want to put all of them on a ship and set them loose somewhere near the Bermuda Triangle. [Or set them on fire.]) But the mother of all P.A.P.’s (Passive Aggressive Poster’s) is a lady I went to high school with who recently got her tits done. She’s been posting (passive aggressively) about it all over her FB page so the entire world (or world wide web, rather) would know. Let’s just say that I’m a genius person, put the pieces together and figured it out because she never came out and directly said, “Hey, I just got a boobie job” [because she’s a P.A.P.]. But instead said, “They are in pain.” “The surgery went well.” And “I hope they heal soon.”

And months later, there’s a new chapter to this riveting story…. And I only know this because of her continual [YAWN] status updates which have been pretty leading the last few days:

Boobie Job is not feeling well, Blah.
Boobie Job has pretty much had it, the only thing I am full of is cuss words right now.
Boobie Job is shocked and totally not amused.
Boobie Job is ready to get back in the game after learning some valuable lessons.
Boobie Job is almost back to normal, game on! just happy to soon be out of the house.

[NOTE: I’ve conveniently changed the P.A.P.’s name to “Boobie Job” in order to protect her identity AND because I’m fucking thoughtful, people.]

All of this was very confusing to me… I wanted to know what was happening with Boobie Job and I wanted to know now. So, after a little Facebook detective work, I noticed that one of her cousins had posted THIS:

“Hey, what happened? Grandma told me one fell out? She’s confused these days, so I wasn’t sure. Are you okay? Is that normal?”–Cousin

Err…
I take back EVERYTHING I previously stated because this little gem is worth every passive aggressive update I’ve had to endure. I mean, where on earth do you possibly start with something like this?
Maybe the fact that I’m most definitely going to hell because I think it’s one of THE funniest things I’ve ever (ever) read. Not too mention, BJ’s cousin is obviously a retard person. Um… no, cousin, it’s not “normal” for boobs (fake or otherwise) to “fall out.” [Note: Cousin probably wears a helmet.]

Then I think about Boobie Job and her slew of (shameless) status updates and the fact that she so desperately wanted the world to know her boobie fell out. (Grandma might be confused, but sadly, not in this particular instance.) For the life of me, I cannot fathom what would motivate someone to post such personal information about themselves (or their rack). Apparently, nothing is sacred [in this economy].

I checked in on Boobie Job today (don’t get excited–it’s not like I called her or anything, I just looked at her page) and found out she is “officially” on the mend.
Game.
On.

This entry was posted on Thursday, August 27th, 2009 at 10:48 am.