Monday, April 16, 2012

How Not to Write a Facebook Status (a public service announcement)

Hey kids! So, you want to post a Facebook status. That's fantastic! Let's get right to it, shall we?

First things first. When you log in, you're going to see a pretty little box that looks like this:



Now, my sweet little gumdrop-cakes, it may look simple, but it's not. It is possible for the act of status-posting to go horribly, horribly wrong. You may even have observed such mishaps on your news feed. So in the interests of not making all your friends secretly despise you, here's a quick guide to a few people you might encounter on Facebook--and how not to be them.

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THE BUTT MEISTER


The Butt Meister thinks his bodily functions are the most hilariously fascinating topic in the universe. Has the Butt Meister projectile-vomited in the past twenty-four hours? You will hear about it. Did he perhaps suffer a bout of indigestion after a trip to his local taco stand? You most definitely will know. The Butt Meister neither understands nor cares to understand that no one else is as enamored of the indelicate little details of his life as he is. 

You can avoid being the Butt Meister with this simple test: Before posting a status, ask yourself, "Would anyone besides a ten-year-old boy find this information amusing?" If the answer is no, don't click "post."

THE PASSIVE AGGRESSOR


The Passive Aggressor is a sensitive soul, as easily wounded as touched. She deeply feels every insult, every slight, every word or look that could potentially be interpreted as an insult or slight--and when she sees the terrible injustice that has been done to her she cannot help but proclaim it in the virtual town square. Perhaps she hopes that her insulter will see her pain and outrage and feel remorse for what he or she has done. Unfortunately for her, the more likely outcome is that her desperate plea for attention and affirmation will be seen as exactly what it is.

To avoid being the Passive Aggressor, simply wait for at least one hour after something has upset you before posting a status about it. If the need to vent becomes overwhelming, I suggest starting a journal. Or, you know, a blog.

THE FOAM ROCK


Ah, the Foam Rock. She might be okay to be around at times. She might even be your friend. Life likes to knock her around, and you feel bad for her. At least she's good at handling her problems. You know she is, because she tells you so. Over and over again. And the longer you know her and the more you hear about how hard her life is, the more the unpleasant truth starts to emerge: her life is no worse than yours. Her problems are no greater in number or severity than yours are. The only thing making her life so horrible is, well, her. She'll tell you she's having a panic attack while acting and appearing perfectly normal. She'll lament that "the world hates her" when the worst thing she has to deal with is finals week. And she'll post statuses like this one. Sometimes more than once a day. Pretty soon, you start realizing that the person you thought was solid is extremely lightweight, and high-maintenance to boot.

It's very easy to not be the Foam Rock. Just suck it up and quit being such a little bitch.

THE FISH


The Fish earns his nickname not only from the large amount of liquid courage he consumes, but from the fact that the majority of his posts look like he flopped helplessly around on the keyboard for ten seconds instead of typing actual words with his actual fingers. His motives for posting the things he does are unclear (does he really think people will admire him once they know he woke up with his head in the toilet again this morning?), but he posts them almost every night. Every time his name shows up on your news feed, you can hear the sound of a liver weeping quietly somewhere in the distance.

To avoid being the Fish... You know, if you are anywhere near being the Fish, I think we need to have a serious talk. Look at your life. Look at your choices. Why are you doing this to yourself? There are people who care about you. They're worried, and for good reason. You have a voice. You have a mind. Please, for the love of god, stop wasting them. You're better than this. Talk to someone. You can still stop. Please, please, get some help.

THE SEX GOD

The Sex God is... You know what? No. I'm not touching this one. Literally or figuratively.

We're done here.

***

In short, my bright, sparkling pumpkin-pie-faces, it's very easy not to incur the secret contempt of your social circle. All you have to do is pratice a little common-garden self-awareness. Pay attention to what you say. Think about what it would look like to someone who doesn't live in your head. And if you still can't think of anything to say even after avoiding all the aforementioned pitfalls?

Step 1.
Step 2.



You're welcome.

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