You know what Facebook, you’re right

Yup, it’s true, Facebook – I DO know those people! But guess what, if we have 60 friends in common and neither of us is new to Facebook, you ever think maybe we’re not friends for a reason?

Ok, so the “people you may know” feature on Facebook can be useful and occasionally has been for me. Like when an old friend just recently joined the site and we suddenly have 21 friends in common, or when you’re meeting new people and one of their friends you’ve hung out with a couple times pops up. No shame in using this to expand your social network, the more the merrier I always say!

But I have 2 serious annoyances that never seem to stop with this feature: when it’s constantly trying to get me to friend people who’ve been so bold as to un-friend me in the past or when it tries to get you to friend an Ex.

I’m not the kind of person who “un-friends”. Sorry, I just don’t care enough. I don’t get mad very often and I don’t hold grudges so I just don’t feel the need to digitally disconnect myself from people who fall out of my life or whatever it is that drives people to actually do this. Now I realize I’ve been un-friended several times throughout my life, and that’s fine – you do you, I don’t really care and honestly I’d laugh about it before getting offended or mad. The best is when people who have pulled this bitter little virtual trigger actually then try to re-friend me sometime later. Whatever dude, way to be fickle. But you’d think Facebook would be able to track this or build it into their top secret algorithm so I don’t have to constantly look at someone’s face on my right toolbar as a constant reminder that they’ve put in the effort to rid me from their timeline. I mean if they get to be so dramatic about disliking me, why am I the one who has to look at their profile pic 5 times a day?

Now the exes issue, I get that Facebook has no idea who I was dating 10 years ago but seriously, if we have 60 friends in common and you’ve been showing him in my “People You May Know” 5 times a day for the past 3 years and neither of us has ever clicked on “add friend” don’t you maybe think you should shut the hell up and stop asking me if I know him? You know I do, how could I not with 60 damn friends in common and a common high school in our profile? I didn’t know algorithms were so into rhetorical-seeming questions, but if Facebook could just stop trying to force this online friendship on me, I bet he, his wife and I would all greatly appreciate it.


It’s Been Awhile

Awww crap, now I have that stupid Staind song in my head. Son of a bitch…

Well at least I’ve now also likely ensured that you’re sharing in my misery there so, enjoy!

Anyways, it’s true, it’s been almost a year since I last wrote on here. I’m sure it was due to a combination of things: too much work, then suddenly too much time on my hands with no inspiration but that’s all kind of bullshit so, my apologies. What matters is I’m in a new city where I should be able to find plenty of inspiration so long as I actually pay attention and remember what made me laugh so hard or what confused me so unnaturally by the time I get to a computer to write about it. I mean I’m living in the MidWest now and Chicago may be what they consider to be their version of New York but let me tell you, the people are different, the suburbs are far more rural, and a snotty LA girl like me can find plenty to question out here in Chi-Town.

Stay tuned…


It’s That Time of Year Again….

No, I’m not talking turkeys, overconsumption, or trees, tinsel and an abundance of gifts. Nope, I mean it’s that time of year where we all get entire page long updates on peoples’ past year in occasionally witty but usually just annoying holiday letters.

These used to be useful, you’d catch up with an old friend at a new years party or run into a family member at easter brunch then suddenly the whole year goes by and you realize you hadn’t spoken to that person again the whole damn time. But then, suddenly, their holiday card and letter arrive! Yippee! Suddenly you know about all the good things (and occasionally also uncomfortable vague references to not so good things) that have happened to them this year. I mean EVERY good thing. George is really proud he came in fourth that club golf tournament, little Suzy learned to tie her shoes and spell her name, George Jr. actually got picked to play basketball at recess! And now you’re caught up on every one of these events. It’s like you were there, like you are actually close enough to this person to already know these things! Except let’s be honest; you’re not. You haven’t cared to talk all year and are now purely reading this damn thing out of guilt as if telephone lines don’t travel both ways.

Besides, don’t we all already have Facebook (and Twitter, and Foursquare, and Google+) to share our little triumphs all year long? Family photos, mundane thoughts, successes, and rarely our failures? It’s basically like we get to enjoy the holiday letters of everyone all year long through social media! Except online, it’s easier to sort through and you get to choose when to click through and actually read these posts or see these pictures.

Now don’t get me wrong, now that I’m living so far away from my oldest friends and family, I love that I can see pictures of my extended family and keep up with my friends’ special occasions so easily, but does that mean I’m looking forward to random holiday letters from people more distant this year? Probably not.

But I guess thank god this seems to be a tradition limited to families because can you imagine if we singles sent out such holiday letters?

“I joined 3 dating websites and am still single!”

“I kicked my weed habit, so that’s been good for my cheeto-consumption levels!”

“I had a bit of a scare at the clinic after a raucous night with some Russian strippers, but it all turned out to be OK!”

Man that shit would be depressing!


My readers scare me

No, not you normal folks and people who know me, but whoever it is that found and read my blog after entering the search term “bbm sluts” , “bbm slut” or “bbm slutty girls pin” in Google – which lead them to find my blog. (Damn my dirty mouth)  I have a feeling they were greatly disappointed when they clicked through to my blog and didn’t quite find what they were looking for. I’m actually a bit afraid with that last one though and it makes me wonder; were they looking for any slutty girl’s bbm pin or a specific one they saw out on night and just figured she’d have some sort of internet presence to match her image? Some mysteries may never be solved. But I did just check and my blog is the 6th entry down when you make that search so at least I know they failed 5 times before I let them down with my rhetoric. Oh well, hope they enjoyed my crazy, so that’s awesome…


A t-shirt is not a jersey.

I’m a fan of t-shirts, I’m actually quite the t-shirt and jeans gal. That’s pretty much my daily wardrobe – jeans, t-shirt and good old Chuck Taylors of varying colors.

And I’m a huge fan of supporting your favorite sports team – I was a high school cheerleader and I always wear my team colors when I attend games and even sometimes when I just watch a game with friends. (See? I’ve got spirit!)

I’m not particularly a jersey fan – I feel that’s more of a boy thing, or a cute tiny little girl thing (neither of which I happen to be), maybe it just reminds me too much of when the cheerleaders had to wear the football players’ jerseys on occasional game days in HS, I don’t know.  Regardless, team jerseys are a totally acceptable way to support your team.  But you know what’s not? T-shirts meant to look like jerseys.

Yeah, you know what I’m talking about, these:

This is not a jersey, sir

Yeah those. Those freaking t-shirts that people insist upon disguising as a jersey. If you wear this, 4 thoughts will go through my head:

1. “Uhm, he knows that’s just a t-shirt, right?”

2. “Who does he think he’s fooling – that shit looks nothing like a jersey!”

3. “There are way cooler things you could do with your t-shirt than turn it into proof that you don’t like your team enough to just plunk down the cash for the actual damn jersey.”

4. “What a douchebag…”

Now don’t even get me started on girls in pink team gear – we know you’re a girl, just wear the damn team colors bitch!


Yes I do feel responsible, I am the line leader!

Do you remember line leaders in elementary school? Those chosen by the teacher to walk in front of the line for the day? I certainly didn’t attend a military school, it was a private school but we didn’t even wear uniforms back then. I often equate good old Pinecrest Elementary to public school but with cooler field trips and soda machines on the playgrounds. Oh yeah, and I probably got a better education supposedly or something, or at least that’s what my parents hope for all the dough they were shelling out. But I remember that we had line leaders when we were younger. Why? I don’t recall, but there was always someone who the teacher had deemed that day’s chosen one. The child who would walk in front of the line and lead the entire class to our destination, whether it be music or art class or out to the field for a fire drill. Someone, one of my peers was responsible for being alert, making sure the entire line walked when necessary and stopped before crossing any dangerous driveways, that we kept a good pace and got to our destination safely and in a timely manner.

I think my time as line leader over the years instilled a strong sense of line leading responsibility in me that seems to be lacking in the general public. As adults, we have many everyday events that involve waiting in some sort of stupid line. When you’re at the bank, when you’re sitting in your car at a stoplight, when you’re in Starbucks waiting to place your groggy morning coffee order, our days really are filled with lines. Now, as I near the front of a line or definitely if I’m actually in front of the line, I get this little rush of anxiety and my mind tells me to drop what I’m doing and pay attention. Suddenly I’m fiddling with my iPod less, holding off on responding to that last text message or BBM and am ready to lead my damn line! That’s right, I gotta step up, it’s my job to lead my followers down Ventura Blvd. or relinquish my position as I step up to place my order or speak to the teller so the line can properly progress in a timely manner. It is my duty as a self-sufficient contributing member of society to lead that line dammit!

Yet somehow, I feel like many people maybe never got to be line leader in their formative years. These poor jackasses talk on their phone when they should be awaiting that ever important motioning from the barista behind the register. They are fiddling with their GPS rather than awaiting the green light, eliciting angry honks from those of us who take our responsibilities more seriously. They are still filling out their deposit slip when they should be watching the monitor telling them which tellers are available, forcing the awkward “Uhm, sir, they’re ready” from me when I really don’t want to have to speak to people while at the bank.  (Side Note: I fucking hate going into the bank and rely so heavily on ATMs that at least one customer service rep has probably lost their job from my effects on banking trends. So I really am so irritable just having to be there anyway that this one really is extra bad for me.) So I’m sorry you were the paste eater that the teacher never chose to be line leader, I really am, because who knew, way back then how much it would effect me later on in life. And really, that’s what’s important here, how it all effects me.

Does the fact that this bothers me so much make me slightly crazy? Yes. Does the fact that I feel such a strong responsibility to lead the anonymous masses in line form make me a little insane? Oh totally. But you all kind of knew that, or else you wouldn’t be reading my blog so let’s just go ahead and gloss over that, shall we? Oh yeah, and lead your damn lines, will ya?


BBM… The Vegas of chat?

I sit at a computer like 50 hours a week. So much in fact, that I haven’t had an actual computer at my house in almost a year and have managed not to miss it at all. Generally, I find that I can do anything I absolutely have to do while away from work on my trusty old blackberry and it’ll work out just fine. I love my blackberry. In fact, I’m on blackberry #5 at this point and even when faced with this most recent bb purchase and intense pressure to switch to an iPhone, I ultimately decided on my gorgeous little bold 9700 and have yet to regret it.

One of my favorite features is Blackberry Messenger or BBM as us cool kids call it. Until now, BBM has been like a secret club for Blackberry users. “Oh! You have a Blackberry! Why aren’t we BBM friends?! Give me your PIN/Let me scan your barcode!” This conversation has become so common it’s not shocking to look through your Blackberry contacts and realize that your BBM-slutty self has someone’s PIN and open conversations in BBM but you don’t even have their actual phone number. Freaking BBM sluts….

So just now I am on one of the music blogs I tend to frequent during the work week and I realize that their margins are filled with adds for Blackberry. These adds apparently entirely aim to sell the mobile devices through selling the cool kids on the idea of BBM. “Love What You Do On BBM” is the over-arching theme here and let me tell you, Blackberry, there have been many…many times where I wake up in the morning and absolutely do NOT love what I’ve done on BBM. My BBM conversations have at times been more awkward and/or embarrassing than some text conversations and with me, a drunk text champion (if the aim is to have ridiculous and incriminating conversations via drunk text then yes, I am a champion), that’s saying A LOT.

The sub-points of this campaign are even more ridiculous: “Hang With Friends. Without any Hesitation” Uhm… if these are my friends, why am I hesitating to hang out with them? Am I suddenly that weird kid everyone knew in high school who was somehow always around as a pity hang but no one ever really claimed me as their friend and I just finally became aware of this fact so now I’m hesitant? And couldn’t I just text or call or Tweet or Facebook (or 800 other things) my friends to hang out? BBM isn’t a new technology last time I checked.

The next sub-point is “Know when your message is sent, received and read”. Sweet, every stalker/Type A’s dream come true! Way to make us all sound like total creeper control freaks, Blackberry. Heaven forbid we just count on the idea that, if someone wants to get back to us and hang out, they will. This must be a godsend for controlling girlfriends everywhere. I can imagine the ridiculous fights now: “I know you read my BBM, it took you 26 minutes to respond?! What were you doing? Who were you with?” Yup… I have a few friends who probably have intimate knowledge of that circumstance actually….

The final sub-point Blackberry is trying to sell us with is “A place to be open and honest with your closest friends.” Well shit….. all those BBM sluts I mentioned above already ruined the “closet friends” part. And open and honest? I was unaware there was some sort of either A)creepy chat room quality like AOL chats rooms circa 1994 (A/S/L anyone?) where we all pretended the technology=honesty rather than creepy pervs sitting in their mom’s basements while hitting on other men by claiming they were 16/F/Los Angeles. and B)I hate to tell you, but I can lie to you over BBM just as easily as I can via text. And every good BBMer knows not to “Read” a message if they think there may be an issue with no immediate response. Finally, we have “On BBM, anything goes and no one knows.” This point feels almost like some sort of fun flirty “What Happens on BBM, Stays on BBM” sort of a tactic and we know how dirty those things always turn out when in reference to Vegas so why not here? I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Blackberry has had copy and paste capabilities since Day 1 so we’ve all been reading each others incriminating conversations for years. Take that BBM!

June 2018
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