Shit I Wrote About Facebook

Do not get me wrong, My Dearly Beloved, I like to Facebook. See, nothing compares to the disappointment of finding out how much time you've wasted on other people's business. Absolutely nothing. There is masturbation, but that dedicated art of pounding dick at least erupts in this satisfying climax that is both familiar and addictive. Like-ing does not get you anywhere near the object of your predatory erection's pants.
Oh wait. It does.

Meanwhile, here's a list of nonsense writing that's pointed at everybody's favorite waste of time. That includes myself, of course. I've been writing about Facebook since 2010. This blog's first write up, however, was posted in 2003. It's about breakfast. I have very little to show for it aside from this list that's nine items strong. I will argue, however, that the time I spent on Facebook was dedicated to pure research. And if you ask me, I am not buying that research shit.

1. My Rules on Facebook Likes (Thursday, November 20, 2014)

2. A Message for You Facebook Philosophers (Sunday, September 04, 2011)

3. What to Write on Jesus' Facebook Wall (Friday, May 24, 2013)

4. Truly, Facebook Brings Out the Attention Whore in Each of Us (Wednesday, March 17, 2010)

5. The Seven Annoying Facebook Posters (Introducing The Loser Meter!) (Sunday, November 07, 2010, and this was reposted just recently because it is still relevant)

6. Here's a Tip on What To Like in Facebook (Saturday, June 25, 2011)

7. I Hate Your "Omg I'm So Ugleeeehhh Huhuhu" Facebook Selfie (Friday, August 02, 2013)

8. This is Why I Hate Your Second "I'm Bored" Facebook Status (Friday, July 26, 2013)

9. Blog Soup #11: Your Facebook Status Sucks, Breaking the Three Month Rule, and Hooray for Smelly Third World Shit! (Wednesday, January 05, 2011)

The Seven Annoying Facebook Posters (Introducing The Loser Meter!)

**Seven. Like the deadly sins. And in spite of this, I'm glad that Facebook doesn't have a Post On a Need to Know Basis in the fine print. I wouldn't have material otherwise. And before we begin with this playful list, I challenge you, my Dearly Beloved reader, to ask yourself this.



I am writing a post that will boost my Facebook posts, but that took longer than an erection on some pothead. That explains this repost. I wrote this in November 2010. It can use an update, but it's still relevant.

Seven. Like the deadly sins. I will be updating this post soon to include "The Sudden Expert," "The Nearly Faceless," and "The Spoiler." 

1. The "I Heart My Macchiato" Poster
This is usually accompanied by a picture of a half eaten banofee pie and a Tall Caramel Macchiato with their name painstakingly made visible on that one shot. I get it. You have hand-me-down taste. And it would have been so very special, so damned special if there weren't one billion of your social climbing kind out there. Underscore would have been. Stick to your calls.

LOSER RATING: This poster doesn't qualify. There's nothing wrong with this kind of poster, but a ratio of four Machiato posts to one generic post is doubtful.

2. The 20-year Old Kid and His Unsolicited Love Advice
I say grow up, get yourself a haircut, move out of your parents' house, start supporting yourself, and then tell me about it. If I wanted advice on that crazy little thing called love, then I'd get me a mother fucking fortune cookie. Or read the horoscope. Or buy me a Bob Ong book and then count the number of times he's been plagiarized by you little boys and girls just for the devilish fun of it.

LOSER RATING: Doesn't qualify. I'm not saying you're dumb. Far from it. I simply have no employment for your advice.

3. The "I Hate Your Guts, But I'm Too Chicken to Tell It To Your Face, So I'll Post a Shout Out Instead and Wait for the Comments Because I'd Rather Have Sympathy Over Courage"
They were mighty fluent during the last election period. And they can't get enough exclamation points. I had to import mine from China.

LOSER RATING:





4. The "I Have a New Post in My Blog, and I Will Be Too Cross-Eyed with Delight If You Guys Can Click on this Link Here."
Faggot, if we know you have a blog, and if we liked the shit you wrote about the last time you endorsed your proud waste of internet space, then we'll bookmark you, and you don't have to ask. So stop distracting me, bitch. I'm uploading my macchiato/banofee pics.

LOSER RATING:






5. The "I'm Telling You Anway" Poster
Personally, this has got to be the most self-absorbed of the lot. He's too self-absorbed, you'd think his physical constitution is made of up 40% water and 60% cotton. He posts about the most useless triviality, the most unusable detail, the superficial more often than not that he prompts the question:

And we should know this because?

Really, we're just so positively thrilled that you "just woke up :)," or that you're "cooking beef tapa," or that you're "4 cm na," but seriously, why do I need to know that?
LOSER RATING:





6. The "Poor You" Poster
There's this one loser in my network who shouted out that he's not going to be on Facebook for a few days. Nobody made a comment. A few days later, he posted a follow up shout out saying he's back. Again, nobody posted a comment. Sigh, this poor thing was thinking somebody cared. Let it be known that this facet of social networking, i.e. getting ignored, is most certainly heart breaking because it defeats the point of a subscription. But I have to admit, that shit is entertaining most especially when that somebody is getting ignored twice.

It can be argued that this kind of poster, the "Poor You" poster, is a distant relative of the "I'm Telling You Anyway" poster , but unlike the latter, the often-ignored "Poor You" poster is amusing. Because he's relentless.

His shallow shout outs, and that's a staggering understatement, rarely, if not never, get the props he was shooting at. Like the "I'm Telling You Anyway" poster, this attention whore just can't cut it, but, for some reason, he's far too encouraged by all that conceit that he goes for yet another nip at attention. Which he doesn't get. One can be led to believe that all the 300-plus people in this loser's network died over the weekend. Or he's just dead to them to begin with, and he's just there for quantity. The poor little bastard needs a consolation, so here's a customized comment you can use if you suspect one of these losers in your network:

"I don't know where you get your sense of entitlement, but you need to lose it."

LOSER RATING:






7. The "I Like What I Said" Poster
There was this one gay loser kid (Jesus, I need to trim these people down) in my network who posted that he's in a relationship. And it looks like he liked it so much that he was the first one to click on the LIKE link. Which doesn't make sense to me, because you don't post things like that if you didn't. Now it would have been fantastic, like in a fantasy, if his audience humored his bullshit, like good fucking sports, but no. The "I Like What I Said" poster's was the only acknowledgment on his own shout out. And that's just sad.

Imagine laughing at your own joke because nobody found it funny. That's the "I Like What I Said" poster for you, and he's an unprecedented height of pathetic. Because he's doing it for the fake props, and not to save face.
LOSER RATING:

What If

**I wanted to pitch in, but I had too many ideas. So I wrote them down instead for your reading pleasure, My Dearly Beloved Sweet Nuts. 

Thank you, Mr. Johnson, for starting this.

1. What if Corinne Bailey Rae didn't put her records on? 

2. What if Gloria Estefan, the Miami Sound Machine, and everybody did not do the conga?

3. What if Wiz Khalifa and Snoop Dogg weren't young, wild and free?

4. What if Adele gave up and stopped chasing pavements? 

5. What if Air Supply wasn't all out of love, Bright Eyes? 

6. What if Bon Jovi didn't want to lay you down on a bed of roses? 

7. What if Bob Marley wasn't waiting in vain? 

8. What if Adam Sandler didn't want to grow old with you? 

9. What if Mariah Carey's hero did not come along because he didn't have the strength to carry on? 

10. What if Kelis' Milkshake didn't bring all the boys to the yard? And what if she did teach you, and she didn't have to charge?

11. What if Mr Big didn't want to be with you? 

12. What if someone told Louis Armstrong that it wasn't a wonderful world at all? 

13. What if Elton John didn't feel the love tonight? And there wasn't a calm surrender to the rush of day? 

14. What if Diana Ross didn't stop? In the name of love? 

15. What if Blackstreet had diggity? 

16. What if someone disagreed with Barry Manilow and told him that the nights weren't any better at all?

17. What if Pink didn't get the pary started? 

18. What if Whitney Houston wasn't every woman after all? 

19. What if Wild Cherry didn't get white boy to play that funky music? Not even until he died? 

20. What if Foreigner, Wynonna Judd, Tina Arena, and Mariah Carey all changed their mind and decided they didn't want to know what love is? 

My Rules on Facebook Likes

**Before anything else, allow me to share a "quote" I created a few years back. 

"Why, is that a dick to be Liked?"

I used this in one of my earlier posts, What to Like in Facebook, and I wrote this in keeping with what you really want to say when somebody asks you to "Like my Page please," but are too polite to give them the finger. That sentence was a mouthful, I know. Meanwhile, That picture is public service, My Dearly Beloved Sweet Nuts, but nobody really used it anyway, so fuck that and let us move along. 

This list explains my Facebook Like Policy (haha). You could disagree on the things enumerated here in an equally sulfuric post, tell me about, and I am not going to read it. I can honestly promise you now, in earnest, that I will not give a fuck. To each his own, Dearly Beloved, you are what you Like. And having said that, let us begin this list.  

Baby Pictures During the First Seven Days

Seven days. This is because not all babies are this cute. 

I would like to say how I feel for you, first time parents, and your boundless joy and the speechless happiness that comes with your angelic bundle of noisy ecstacy. I have personal reasons why I have decided not to reproduce. But I'm sure you have nothing but warmth for your Little Beloved, which is why I will Like all your updates for the first seven days following your delivery. This could be nickel-plated empathy, but I am genuinely happy for you, and I will then understand your usual mission of documentation. 

I will Like all your updates, and I'm talking All of them. That includes the hourly selfies and updates on your Little Beloved's shit patterns. Why, you can even post your Little Beloved's first used diaper in a trash can, and I will like it in earnest.  

This flood Liking will take place for the first seven days, where you are at the summit of your happiness inspite of your sore vajayjay. I will Like with restraint, as is customary for I have taste, on the eighth day forward. Hopefully, your kid inherited the cute genes so I can continue to Flood Like such updates. 

I remember this one Facebook status where this bitch updated everyone on the dilation of her vajayjay. "Omg, I'm 4cm na." Just sharing. 

Common Courtesy Likes 

I steal pictures from the Internet. I have no problems with them stealing pictures back. That, ladies and gentlemen, is The Golden Rule in motion.

I will not Like any of your updates if you have never Liked any of my updates. I have decided to believe that there is still such a novelty as common courtesy in 2014. Once upon a time, in the 20th century, the powers that be indoctrinated everybody with the principles of The Golden Rule. The Golden Rule asks everyone to "Do unto others what you would have others do unto you," and we grew up to its ironclad implementation that we were living it by the age of four. We grew up to Common Courtesy, what polite days, and I have reason to believe it died a few years back.

Common Courtesy is not a trend in Facebook. Everyone is so bent on being Liked, and then generating Selfies or updates that will collect more Likes, that no one bothers to pay attention to anybody else. However, I admit that there are a few Golden Exceptions who still manifest this kind of unusual acknowledgment, and they keep my little faith going. Like me, and I will Like you back. And that's basically the size of it. 

This explains my Common Courtesy Like Policy. There are near infinite ways to make fun of Etiquette, but I'd far rather not for it is something dear to me, like my G-spot, so let us move on. 

Tattoos

That tall homo writes this crap. To the left is his Awesome Tattoo Artist, Ms Rakel Natividad. 

Pictures of your new tattoos get automatic Likes. I feel for you, my Inked Dearly Beloved. This also explains why anything by my Awesome artist, Mam Rakel Natividad, get automatic Likes. 

Family

We are talking about the family you were born with. 

Status updates from family members get automatic Likes regardless of the content. 

Some Selfies

Haha, a list on Selfie Rules smells luscious, but I don't have the energy. Or the interest.

I will Like your Selfies if and only if they fall under any of the following guidelines: 

1. You are genuinely beautiful or handsome, whatever. I should know since I know you in person. Underscore genuinely. 

2. You are genuinely beautiful or handsome regardless of your gender. I'll even add a comment that says "LikeLikeLikeLikeLike" if you were a truly beautiful boy or a really handsome girl. 

3. That is still your real face, and you haven't aged a bit.  

4. That is no longer your real face, and I am really Like-ing your cosmetic surgeon's intestinal fortitude. 

5. I really like you as a person.

6. You smile with your teeth. 

7. You are not giving me no goddamn attitude most especially when we know how painfully ordinary you look in person. 

8. You have no make up on. 

9. On the spot if someone took your Selfie for you (which defeats the point), but you went ahead and posted that stolen shot anyway because you don't give a fuck. 

10. You're a fierce bitch, qualified.  

11. Your Selfie isn't accompanied by some weak-ass plagiarized quote that really does nothing to bring out your eyes. Having said that, your Selfie Quotes really are irrelevant, aren't they? Where's your confidence?

Shameful Scandals

There is a German word for it. Schadenfreude. 

You are sharing some titillating scandal that involves people I know. It's okay if you're not mentioning names, but the clues you let slip gave us a passport photo in our heads. Thank you. 

Trust me, My Dearly Beloved, this is one of the two main reasons why I keep logging in to my Facebook account. I am a hopeful gossip because my life is mostly boring. 

Having the Steel Nuts to Tag the Object of Your Loathing

Think about it, Dearly Beloved. When was the last time somebody tagged someone in a Facebook fight?

You're tits are boiling in anger with that ALL CAPS status update directed towards a certain dip shit in our network of friends. And you are not keeping us in suspense because you actually Tagged the dip shit in question. Three snaps in a Z-formation to you, you fierce, fierce bitch. 

I hate it when people express their loathing over someone in their network, and they let the rest of their friends know, and they unload an emotional string of 100 furious words (no periods, one sentence) towards a very hateful Anonymous person. I get that you're livid, I am aware that you're boiling, but if you really meant all those F-words, then you should at least have the courtesy to fight fair and let the object of your hatred know. And us, too, since we, your intended audience, know the right kind of drama to pay attention to. Some of us have taste, you know. 

Think about it. How would we, your intended audience, know you're not making up the drama? 

Accomplishments 

Acknowledge.

I make it a point to Like a friend's accomplishments. And we're talking about the kind of accomplishments that they studied hard for, rendered multiple over time hours for, weight trained with religious discipline for, stayed loyal to each other after five years for, woke up at four in the morning for three months for, got nominated and then elected for, cheated a drug test for, got wrongfully detained and got out of it for, saved P100,000 so they can get a pair of silicon breasts for. So no, that magical anemic chicken you cooked for lunch doesn't count, unless of course you are quadriplegic and you were a telekinetic chef. 

Listen, Dearly Beloved, listen here. I am genuinely acknowledging of your triumphs, most especially when you deserve them. I am not kidding. But your "OMG, I just beat ___ levels in ______" update?

Quotes Like These 

And, for the troubled life of me, I still don't get broken hearted people who keep quoting crap about moving on, or about how the next love of their lives will be better and shit, or about how the ex was a womanizing cunt. You are telling us that you have "moved on" because? You already told us a week ago, why do you need to tell us again? Maybe you need the "Keep telling yourself that" kind of reinforcement, but bitch, please. Get over it. You are now in your thirties and you are still following that Marcelo dude? 

Happy Pictures of Your Parents 

Lovedoesnotagewhatthefuckamisaying. But there are exceptions.

Such pictures are love, undistilled raw love, and they get automatic Likes. End of story. 

I am now reminded of the sheer tastelessness of posting pictures of your recently deceased. Some morbid things are delicious, but seriously, dude, why can't you just tell us where the wake is being held? What, are we the kind of people that require visual evidence of a Dearly Departed in a coffin? What, are you thinking we are suspicious? What, they're not dead enough? What, the reports of their death are greatly exaggerated? 

And you should know that there is nothing original with this sort of weirdness.  
The Victorians have done post-mortem photography, and they did it rather tastefully considering their subject. We are talking 18th century here, my Dearly Beloved. What you're doing has been done to death, it is far from original, and it's still a loser update. 

Meanwhile, feast yourself on these fine examples of post mortem photography, 18th century style.

Updates by The Crushie 

I am too old for this shit, you know.

Get automatic Likes. Ugh, sonofabitch, I just said "Crushie." And I am in my thirties now. Anyway, Crushie is thin. Crushie is most definitely rock and roll. Crushie has more visible tattoos than I have. Crushie gives me spectacular erections all the time. Crushie is all that and then oozes with hardcore confidence. Crushie is someone I haven't met yet.  

Two Horror Stories

**I am a big fan of Halloween. So I wrote these.

Horror Story # 1: Your Selfie

There was this ugly gay boy who posted an unedited selfie in Facebook. And this is what it looked like along with the customary quote.

"If you don't want to take my picture, then I'll take it myself! Shit!"

Now, there were several reports that explain why this unedited selfie was even let loose in the first place. His friends say he's the overly vain And overly ugly kind who was as confident as he was unsightly. Our shuddering sources say he asked his closeted gay friends to dare him do it. He was somewhat disappointed that nobody asked him to do it. But he went for it anyway because he thought that unedited selfies will trend.

There were others who insisted that he was half-drunk at the time this abominable crime took place. His reasoning was paralyzed with whatever he was drinking then. Meanwhile, they refuse to admit if Ugly Gay Boy here was drunk with alcohol or if he was drunk with his incredibly intoxicating conceit.

A third theory, and I am serious as I am writing this, came from his very close friends. They say that Ugly Gay Boy was trying to impress an office mate. This could make sense because Ugly Gay Boy here was very conceited, after all.

However, the "Why?" behind this incident is nowhere near as horrifying as the reports that issued from nearby hospitals and lying in clinics. A doctor was, after a few shots of vodka, reported to have said: "We have never... oh my God... In all of my twenty-something years of medical practice, this was the first time that I have diagnosed somebody as having epileptic seizures and violent diarrhea. Combined! I remember they were rushing in three of those poor people every half hour or so. And this continued for the next twenty four hours. Why, they were literally shaking and shitting all over the emergency room! And some of them... oh Lord... some of them had it so bad, they had blood on their feces!"

"You will not believe what our wards looked like, and smelled like, two days after this epidemic began. And you, you poor thing, you will not get that nightmare out of your head. (Tears are running down his face at this point. He sobs. He sighs.) It was like... It was like somebody decided to re-enact The Holocaust in Pasig Cirrehhh!"

Image from Worldwar2-facts

I am finally writing this next paragraph after borrowing the courage from a ream of cigarettes.

I had to mention that there were also similar reports from nearby lying in clinics. This is because the expecting mothers are (makes sign of the cross) a terrible casualty. They decided to conceive, immediately, after suffering from the same epileptic fit slash uncontrolled bowel movement.  Which is, of course, understandable. They'd rather give birth on the spot, than allow ugly gay boy's unedited selfie to linger in their memory. They were expecting, after all, and their haunted memory of ugly gay boy's unedited selfie will have bothering effects on their undeveloped angel.

"And besides," one ex-mother revealed, "my little kid looked better in her second trimester than Ugly Gay Boy will ever be in his twenty something years."

Meanwhile, Ugly Gay Boy refuses to take responsibility for the near-genocide that his unedited selfie caused. He refuses to answer questions and dismisses inquiries, as well as threats to his life, with that "Bitch, please" look on his unsightly face. He is still at large, and is still logging in to Facebook. His account is not yet disabled. He is still ugly.

This may or may not be a true story. Ugly Gay Boy may or may not be gay. And, by the same token, our villain may or may not be a boy. 

Horror Story # 2: What are You Doing, Little Girl?

I will post this next week. Haha.

A Change of Heart on Selfies, and A Blogger's Birthday Greeting

**I like to look at beautiful things, so this post is dedicated to all you ugly posers who selfie too much. Underscore too much; you shouldn't be, for the love of mercy, doing selfies in the first place.  Alright, so you may have that kind of freedom. But with the kind of awful pictures you are submitting, it looks like you are exercising that freedom in jail. Meanwhile, to my paradise-level goddess friends afflicted with the same conceit, carry on please. You are making my newsfeed prettier. 

Photo from fanpop.com

Why do we have to see you in your most well-prepared, heavily dolled-up with crazy, blow dried hair, in your bathroom, when we know, for real, you do not look like that, nowhere like that, in real life? I do not get it, all 1,000 hourly images of it. Maybe I do, but thinking about it is like 10th century lobotomy. It is hurting my brain. So I'll save myself the suffering and find time to masturbate instead. 

No, I won't unfriend you or hide you from my newsfeed just yet. I am somewhat masochistic, and this sexy constitution demands that nature of hurting. 

Anyway, humility is a lesson learned best with experience, so I'll stop imagining I can "preach" your narcissism away. By and by, you will meet several real-life goddesses who will shame your make believe, self-appointed beauty. For the time being, you go ahead and Photosh... your selfies to your vain heart's content. See if I fucking care anymore, ugly bitch.

However, I will continue to have fun, devilish fun, with the insults. Your uploaded witchcraft begs for it. Okay, so you took the time to look dazzling with all that unnatural glow light. But you have to go through several lighting effects before, after thirty minutes of indecisiveness,  you decided to upload one heavily edited picture with half a heart behind it. Maybe you were thinking this kind of light failed to bring out your best features. Oh hell no. The lighting is not the problem. It is what's being lit. It should be left in the dark. 

Image from amovieaweek.com

I hate to break it to you, but your selfies are not pretty enough. Truth is, even after the painstaking assembly order process that your selfies go through before being uploaded, it's still the farthest thing from pretty. It's a glacial period away from beautiful. Why do you even try? I'm sure you already know that no amount of glowing light will fix your nose, or unblemish your pockmarks, or rosy whiten your complexion, or stretch your height, or give you sex appeal, or straighten your teeth, or increase your sperm count, or what have you. That necromancy, and I shudder to call it by it's unholy name, Photosh... curse that art of the devil (crosses self), that implement of the Anti Christ, can only do so much raising of the dead. However, like all demonic arts, it is still possessed of several limitations. Like you. And these limitations, namely you, are giving me hours of countless fun.

I know I am the farthest thing from pretty, but I do not do selfies, so fuck you. And if you cannot be restrained from giving us taste cancer with your hourly selfies, then I might as well take your pictures for their butt-of-jokes quality, and have a grand time laughing.

Photo from vimeo.com

And this is why I have decided to dwell on the lighter side of things. No, it is not the "glow light witchcraft" sort of light, but the consequential insult humor which is prosperous with Photosh... "it's" limitations. And by "limitations," sweetheart, I am referring to you. And people like you who seriously imagine they can get away with the obviously embellished. So, you know what, you keep your uploads coming. I encourage you to go for it, upload your mostly Photosh... selfies as often as you want, as much as you want, oh please do, and I'm sure we're guaranteed at least a few more hours of belly aching laughter.









Meanwhile, the only reason why I am posting this screen shot is because of it's relevance to my blogging. I just turned 33 yesterday, and I love all my well-wishers with equal measures of love and suspicion. I kid. With the word "suspicion." Obviously. Anyway, Andoy, that sweet dick with his bullseye sense of humor, might as well have given me some semblance of actual purpose. Which is exactly why I am posting this screenshot. It's like some makeshift tattoo of sorts, and it requires permanence. So here.