No, I’m not talking about my tortilla chip and ranch dressing habit (that is currently in a nice downward death-spiral). I’m talking about an addiction that is far more dangerous.
I’m talking about an addiction that has been known to sabotage work ethics, tear apart families, and ruin special events before they’ve even begun. I’m talking, of course, about Facebook.
Simply put, Facebook is the worst thing that ever happened to me. You’re probably thinking, “Gee, you’ve had a pretty cushy life so far,” to which I respond, “At least I don’t use ‘Gee’ in normal conversation.”
Back to Facebook, or, as I call it, Fingerbucket (due to the fact that it’s as enjoyable as looking at a bucket of fingers).
Before Fingerbucket entered my life, I was a normal, well-adjusted guy. Well, ok – I was a guy. But after almost a decade of pokes, friendings, and pictures of strangers in bathing suits (which, by the way, all sound like the trappings of a creep’s daily routine), I have come to one, simple conclusion: I don’t need this.
For some, Fingerbucket may provide entertainment and a feeling of connected-ness. For me, Fingerbucket provides awkward glimpses of the lives of people I do not want glimpses of. Did you hear me, Mork Zacherstein? NO MORE GLIMPSES. I HATE GLIMPSING.
Fortunately, my thoughtful college roommate keeps me in the loop. Last week he sent me a picture of a mutual acquaintance watching his wife nurse their infant. Now, besides being a horrifying thing to share via social media, this also gives new meaning to the term Facebook Feed.
Good riddance Fingerbucket. I hope all your servers spontaneously combust (in a safe, amusing sort of way that doesn’t injure anybody).