Thursday, June 30, 2011

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Turds

So you’ve picked a side in the bombastic battle of the social networks, and now you’ve got the most important decision of your life looming over you: your profile picture. What the rest of the world will see every time you post intriguing tidbits such as what you had for dinner or what your weekend plans involve.  I’ve compiled a list of the most common credibility-killing pitfalls to steer clear of in order to achieve profile-pic-perfection. 

#1- Fish Lips. This seems to be a growing trend among 18-35 year old females, where the subject has their lips puckered up in such a way they are either preparing to passionately kiss an orangutan or have just eaten a lemon sprinkled with chunks of rancid milk. Apparently, their mothers never issued the warning: “If you keep making that face it will freeze that way.” It’s tragic, really. Good luck trying to make an insightful point about the tyranny of oil wars while looking like Big Mouth Billy Bass.

#2-The Standing-In-Front-Of-A-Mirror-Holding-The-Camera Picture. Nothing says “all my friends live on the interwebs” like this pose. Really, you couldn’t get ONE PERSON to hold the camera and take your stupid picture? Plus it’s usually a man with his shirt off and boxers rising 4 inches above his jeans, or a scantily clad chick striking a pseudo-sexy stance– implying the subject is too modest to have someone else take such a risqué photo of them but then proceeding to post it on the internet for all casual acquaintances to gawk at.

#3- The Extreme Close-Up. The eyes may be the window to the soul, but the pores in your forehead are like those ground-level basement half-windows that you purposely don’t clean the cobwebs off of so that you can successfully hide from the outside world all the filthy, nasty shit you leave down there because it’s too large for your trash bin, so you’re saving it to baffle future archaeologists. In other words, it’s gross. Don’t do it.

#4- The “Spontaneous” Sexy Shot. So you just HAPPENED to be straddling a banister or sprawled out on a playground slide when your friend happened by with a camera.  Oops! You’re just soooo wild and unpredictable! Trust me, everyone knows there’s 30 outtakes stored on your hard drive, cut the bullshit. Plus do you really think your former babysitter, your cousin’s wife, or for fuck’s sake your MOTHER that you’re Facebook friends with seriously want to stare at your camel toe every time you comment about the “CRAZY weather we’re having?!?!”  Keep that shit to yourself.

                 Now that you know what NOT to do, I will leave you with some examples from my own faux pas-free Facebook page.  I strive for dignity and class at all times, as you can see. That’s why I’m allowed to stand on this soap box. They don’t let just ANYONE have a blog you know. I mean, you also have to have an email address.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Facebook Fury Spell Check Outtake

I found this worth learning how to take a screen shot for....

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Twitter Twits

                In the beginning, Al Gore created the internet and then some nerd that hung out with Justin Timberlake invented social networking. People joined ONE site and then mercilessly ridiculed the others. It was like West Side Story, lame as hell and more time was spent flamboyantly prancing around than actually fighting. You had the Facebook Jets versus the Twitter Sharks; and of course the MySpace Pink Ladies from Grease—annoying, ugly, and irrelevant.
                I aligned with Facebook, and thus my hatred for Twitter was born. No, I’ve never used Twitter. Nor have I ever made an effort to understand it. And it is my God-given right (and responsibility) as an American to loathe and make fun of anything I don’t understand.
                I do know that people use Twitter to cyber-stalk celebrities, which sounds to me like one of the saddest, most pathetic pastimes a person could engage in. I mean if you want to read the pointless ramblings of a moron brunette named Kim with a huge ass, just follow this blog.
                This blind hatred was just fine for me, but then the unthinkable happened. Twitter started infiltrating Facebook. WITH THIS: #.
                A pound sign. I refuse to call it anything else. “Hashtag” sounds like a game we would’ve played in high school if we had been granted recess time. Just typing it gives me cotton mouth.
                Suddenly that little devilish symbol is everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I don’t get it, and I don’t like it. I can’t even play tic-tac-toe anymore without breaking into a cold sweat.
                Then there’s the ultimate in shameless encroachment. People are updating their facebook statuses VIA TWITTER. What???? Are you that fucking important that you need to use two different social networking outlets, but not clever enough to come up with more than one coherent thought to post?
                Using both Facebook and Twitter is like leading a double life, with a different spouse and different kids in a different state. Why would you want your Oklahoma family to read what you’re doing with your East Coast hussy?  
                So please, PLEASE, re-segregate social networking sites. I need Twitter out of my life. Let’s cuff our jeans and snap our fingers in unison to show how tough we are.
                I’ll leave you with this: #FuckTwitter

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Facebook Fury

I fucking HATE cookie cutter facebook statuses. You know the kind; they say something stupid/obvious/ignorant, followed by “97% of people won’t repost this!” like the 13-year-old that started the lame ass thing was a statistician. And they ALWAYS end with “Copy and paste if you agree,” so when you DON’T bombard your friends with the same message they’ve already read from 130 other people it implies that you HATE starving children, or cancer patients, or whatever the fuck the original post was about. You know why 97% won’t repost? BECAUSE IT’S STUPID.
Like this one:
Stupid cancer... we all wish to have a new lose weight...a person who has cancer only wants one fight their cancer...i know that 97% of you guys won't put this on your wall...but 3% of my friends will....Put it on your wall in honor of someone who died from cancer or who's fighting against it now.
Yes, cancer is evil. But how does this post help anyone??? Unless you enjoy being accused of being a selfish dick because you’re healthy, this post is worthless.  Second, people who have cancer are still people.  Of course they want a cure, who the fuck doesn’t? But to imply that they don’t have other wishes as well is just plain naïve. I know when my dad was sick he still wished the Lions would win a Superbowl.  Of course a cure for cancer is probably more realistic.
But that one’s not even the worst. It’s the MOM ones.  It goes something like, “I don’t care that I’m fat, flabby, exhausted, and malnourished because I’m a MOM and I’m so lucky, blah blah blah.” Oh shut the fuck up already! Yes, having a child is amazing, and the love you feel for your child is incomprehensible to those who haven’t experienced it for themselves. But get off your fucking high horse and admit the truth- 97%  of the time (for some reason that number is just in my head) parenting sucks!
I want to hear from the REAL moms out there.  Cut the fluff. Of course you love your kids, but don’t try to pretend that you enjoy looking like you get beaten with an ugly stick every morning. And that you just LOVE having back fat, stretch marks, and a social life circling the drain. Tell the truth—you blame your little darlings for it. At least a little.
Don’t even act like you don’t lock yourself in the bathroom on a weekly basis to keep from murdering your offspring. Kids are a giant pain in the ass, and all parents suffer some form of mom/dad guilt on a daily basis anyway, don’t make it worse by ramming a bullshit I’m-so-perfect-even-my-kids-diarrhea-diapers-don’t-stink status down our throats.
If you really want to capture the essence of parenting in 420 characters or less, choose something like: “I've been shit on, puked on, screamed at and assaulted by a small human that used to live in my body and caused irreparable damage on the way out. Because of him/her I will never grace the cover of the Swimsuit Edition, get a full night's sleep, or eat a hot meal. But if anyone tried to harm a hair on that little shit's head I will murder them with my own hands. I'm a MOM.”
If you found this guide to mass-statusing helpful, go ahead and share it with your friends. I bet 97% of you won’t.  Fuckers.