Fistfuck Facebook

Like a haystack in a hurricane, I sometimes have the tendency to get carried away with things. Like when Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic came out for the Xbox a few years back, I literally lost three months of my life. Playing a fucking RPG (Role Playing Game) that’s three months of time that I will never, ever get back.

I know for a fact it was close to three months because the game logs how much time you’ve spent playing it. But after about two months into the digital quest to destroy the Sith, I learned the game was just playing me.
 
“Hey Mike, we’re going skating, get off your ass,” My roommate Paul would say. To which I would reply, “Fuck you Paul! I gotta level up!”

This is why, barring a major life crisis, I will never start playing World of Warcraft. It’s the exact same reason I don’t play poker, shoot heroin or listen to James Taylor: I’m afraid I will never stop if I start.

Who knows? I could be the worlds best poker player or have the most bestest wizard on WOW, but if I start doing things I can’t stop, I’m not gonna have time to dedicate to my other time–consuming vices. I try to rotate my bad, addictive habits out like a revolving Chinese dinner table.

Like during basketball season, it’s pretty much a guarantee where I’m going to be during a Jazz game, and it’s not in the Delta Center (I refuse to address the house that John Stockton built as the Energy Solutions Arena! Blasphemy!). It’s on my couch pounding beers and pulling tubes.
 
But once basketball season is over, I need to replace that vice with something else. Like a junkie looking for his next fix, I feel incomplete during the off-season. So what did my dumb ass go ahead and do after the LA Fakers dropped the Jazz in the playoffs?
Got a Facebook account.

Facebooking fits well with the theme I gave my life for year number thirty, which is to become everything I’ve ever hated so I can find more things to like. So I bought a fixed-gear bike, an iPhone, and a couple of V-necks. Now I know how to update my FB status on the nations fastest 3G network while doing a track stand and exposing my three chest hairs.

I actually started my FB account while slaving at the SLUG office one day. Angela suggested I do it to get ahold of all the motherfuckers that I was having trouble getting in touch with for various SLUG events I help out with. I also wanted to promote a Fucktards show and heard that promoters were killing it with the FB.

It seemed harmless enough. I thought it would just be like my Myspace page that I never use (sorry, Rupert Murdoch). I never got into the whole Myspace thing. The leading cause for college kids dropping out seemed more retarded to me than the parking lot at the special Olympics.
 
I didn’t get making friends over the internet. I always thought that was what real life was for. Like “Two Girls, One Cup,” it just seemed wrong. Facebook would soon prove otherwise.

So I sent out a ton of friend requests and people were accepting my friend requests as fast as NASCARs. Then I realized that in real life I’d never want this many friends—way too many birthdays and shitty party obligations to fulfill. Remember what I said about my vices taking up my time? As of right now my friend count is at 479. I know, I’m popular right? No offense to my 479 digital buddies, but there’s no way I really like all of you. I just want all of you to come to the next Fucktards show, that’s about it.


There’s no real way to tell people to go eat a bowl of douche flakes on the FB. I really wish there was though. Everything’s all positive and nice like candy canes. You can only “like” comments and pictures. So sweet. The only real way to tell someone to go get fist fucked on facebook is summed up by a new word. A new word that, like “sexting” (Cell Phone Humpage,) will be recognized by Webster’s within the year if my calculations are correct. And the word of the day is DEFRIENDING!

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Comments on this article

Posted on September 5, 2009 by maxx

shameless promotion at its finest

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