Dear Facebook Friends:
Hi. How is everyone doing?
I’m writing this letter to all of you, my 645 closest, bestest, most wonderful friends in the world. For some of you, I still don’t remember who you are, but I’m sure we shared an unmistakable bond that led us to become Facebook friends in the first place. Bret, are you the guy from the “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk” bar? If so, please confirm. Chris, I think I threw up in your car once. I’m sorry. And lastly, Miguel… I do not know you, but you are my only friend named Miguel, so you are staying. Yay, FRIENDS!
Now that we’re nearing the end of 2011, I feel that I should pull a Hilary Duff and “come clean”1 about my utter failure on Facebook this year. I’ve been a terrible Facebook friend to most of you, and you don’t deserve that. You deserve more. Much more. Especially you, Miguel. So, I am writing to apologize to everyone that I have virtually neglected this year. In particular, I deeply regret the following:
I apologize to all my friends whose birthdays I’ve missed this year. I know that you were just waiting for me to post a thoughtful message on your wall, indicating to you that a) I was on Facebook that day, and b)… Well, that I was on Facebook that day. So for all the walls I didn’t write on, the birthdays I didn’t acknowledge, and the friendships I inevitably ruined, this is what I would have written: “Happy birthday!!” See? There. The double exclamation mark is what really sells it, telling you that I was truly excited, that I was pumped, that I knew it wasn’t just an ordinary day, but the actual anniversary of your birth!
(Of course, for my fundamentalist Christian/anti-abortion friends, you know that life begins way before birth. So, please give me the date of your conception so I can wish you a Happy Conceptionday! instead. Yay, LIFE!!)
NOT COMMENTING ON YOUR MOMENTOUS LIFE OCCASIONS RE: BABIES/MARRIAGES/ENGAGEMENTS
To all my friends who got engaged, married, or knocked up this year, here is my heartfelt message: “Sooooo happy for you!!!” And really, I am happy, thrilled, over the moon, jumping for joy, doing heel clicks down the street, shouting to the sky, arms wide, eyes closed, big grin, feeling all rainbows and butterflies and sun and smiles, so freaking happy for your happiness and blah blah blah get a room. So of course, I won’t write that your new fiancé is, at best, a 3 to your 7. And I won’t mention that your new baby’s limbs look like overcooked sausage links strewn together on a human body. And I certainly won’t tell you that your new wife’s nickname in college was Slutney McFetus. Instead, I will look through the 150 photos of your atrocious sausage baby spitting up in a onesie and be soooooo happy for you. Yay, ACQUIRING DEPENDENTS AND THEREFORE TAX BREAKS!
UN-TAGGING MYSELF IN PHOTOS
I feel terrible when I un-tag myself from photos. I know that it took you not an insignificant amount of time2 to save, upload, and tag these photos. I know that your intentions were only good. And I know that you didn’t mean to include this horrid picture of me and publicize it for everyone to see.
I realize that yes, I probably look like this (fat face) most of the time, and yes, I shouldn’t care that my 645 best friends see me like this (fat face), because they will love me no matter what I look like (fat face). However, you may have underestimated my incredible vanity and desire to have an acceptable photo for the news if I’m ever sensationally murdered. So, the delusional perfectionist inside me demands a picture-perfect, scrubbed-clean, virtual representation of myself which will ensure that the news outlets make my headline, “Friendly, Respectable Woman Brutally Killed” and not, “Half-Naked Asian Chick Bites It”. So that is why I un-tag myself in most photos: it’s not you, it’s me. Me and TMZ. Yay, NORTH KOREAN-STYLE CENSORSHIP!
Finally, I just want to issue a blanket apology for generally being a creep on Facebook. I don’t like to admit it, but I have spent countless hours ghosting around like some kind of internet predator, checking people out, going through photo albums, looking up friends I haven’t talked to in years and trying to catch up on their lives without actually interacting with them at all. It is shameful, embarrassing, and cowardly, and I can only take solace in the hope that everyone else does it too.3 But if you must know some of my observations from such stalking (really, sociological research), these are my takeaways:
- Most everyone is getting fat.
- My friends from elementary school have either gotten pregnant or arrested.
- Everyone who drives a nice car has a picture of their car on Facebook.
- People who have a profile picture of themselves in a bathing suit are terrorists.
- 60% of my friends have developed bone spurs or know someone who has.
So, this is it. My dear Facebook friends, lovers, colleagues, and randoms (that’s you, Miguel!) I have enjoyed all the time we did not spend together in 2011. Let’s make sure to keep this up in 2012.
1.This is a reference to the 2004 Hilary Duff single “Come Clean” because I assume this is where the phrase “come clean” originated from.
2. I apologize for the double negative, but the time it takes to tag photos isn’t really a significant amount of time… it’s sort of between not insignificant and time it takes to eat a Chipotle burrito.
3. You guys do this, right?