dear facebook: NYOB, STFU, SRSLY.
28 Jul 2008 02:30 amSome of you may remember when I was grinding my teeth over the possibility of attending a HS reunion, a notion that filled me with so much goddamn ennui that words nearly failed me. (But not quite.) Regardless, a sort of compromise was achieved -- more like, I felt kinda bad that I have no really positive memories of anyone in HS except for maybe three or four people, only one of whom has ever kept in touch with me -- and since that one friend's not on LJ, I rather ungracefully agreed to maybe, y'know, kinda, sorta, looking at signing up on facebook for, uh, I dunno. I guess so if my friend wanted to shove my name in front of former classmates, even if every name mentioned drew an almost complete blank with me.
So anyway.
About two weeks ago, I guess, I finally said to myself, well, fuck it, get this over with. Then I can go back to being eternally grateful that the fuckheads who were our senior class representatives (whomever they are; I barely remember my senior year, let alone who we freaking voted for) decided to abruptly shift the reunion to August & not over Homecoming weekend, which meant I could slide out of attending on the pretense of not enough warning, etc etc.
( Carrying on: imagine me dutifully signing up for facebook, and this is where the amusement begins, of course. )
Market data-mining, my freaking foot. If I wanted to be a freaking statistic, I would've gone ahead and become a junkie adolescent parent with a full scholarship to Harvard. At least then I would've been some kind of an exciting statistic, not to mention been able to sell my partially-plaigarized autobiography for a gazillion dollars.
So anyway.
About two weeks ago, I guess, I finally said to myself, well, fuck it, get this over with. Then I can go back to being eternally grateful that the fuckheads who were our senior class representatives (whomever they are; I barely remember my senior year, let alone who we freaking voted for) decided to abruptly shift the reunion to August & not over Homecoming weekend, which meant I could slide out of attending on the pretense of not enough warning, etc etc.
( Carrying on: imagine me dutifully signing up for facebook, and this is where the amusement begins, of course. )
Market data-mining, my freaking foot. If I wanted to be a freaking statistic, I would've gone ahead and become a junkie adolescent parent with a full scholarship to Harvard. At least then I would've been some kind of an exciting statistic, not to mention been able to sell my partially-plaigarized autobiography for a gazillion dollars.