Why I can't do Facebook

I hate my conscience

Okay, there are some things in life you just can’t pass up. I almost clicked the Comment button. Seriously. And what do I have to lose? I should have just done it, but now it’s not funny anymore. Or maybe it was never funny. Or maybe it would just hurt that girl’s feelings because she is not who she used to be and I should not enforce a negative image upon her in front of everyone we’ve ever known personally, and my friends would say, “Come on, man, seriously?” and then I’d feel something called remorse.

That’s because I am a conscious, thinking man with the impulses of a terribly cruel bastard. Meh. What goes around comes around. I’ll get mine one day, but that day hasn’t come yet.

That being said, let’s talk a little shit about Facebook:

A lot’s changed since the last time I used it.

Why is it now considered stalking to look at someone’s profile?

Maybe I’m fucking interested. Am I a stalker now? In high school I dated this girl with a stalker and we didn’t have Facebook yet; in fact, myspace hadn’t even come out yet. What we did have was the telephone, and her back yard where we’d find him standing from time to time. That’s a stalker. This is a website and read this little factoid hot off the news feed: YOU CHOSE TO PUT YOUR INFORMATION ON IT.

I honestly don’t see what’s wrong with camping on a girl’s profile who you like and spamming F5 for hours at a time, or even all day. If that makes me a Facebook stalker, then I’m a Facebook stalker and my wrist hurts.

Why am I a “creeper” for hitting on girls with it?

Because if you do something as simple as using a communication device on a dumb girl, that word comes out. It’s not that sophisticated, honey. I didn’t go out of my way. Not for you. Maybe I can’t find what they call a good girl (which may or may not actually exist) at the bar because her face looks like a leather bag with a cigarette hanging out of it. Maybe I don’t find them at parties because *whore* Maybe I don’t find them where I work because they only hire men to do my job. Although, there is that one cute chick…but she’s a cocktease with a vendetta.

“WHORES AREN’T THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO GO TO PARTIES, MR. SMART ASS ELF WAX WRITER FOR THE INTERNET, MR. I FUCKING HATE EVERYTHING, MR. I CAN’T GET LAID SO I GO ONLINE AND RAGE ABOUT IT.”

Point taken. Still, fuck that.

I operate Facebook like a vast net, trawling the murky unknown for a good conversation, intelligent insight, a funny joke, adding strangers in the hopes of discovering a classy broad who isn’t afraid to go out on a limb and meet a religious rapist-murderer zealot she talks to online. Because I looove to rape me some bitches. So what if I filter out all the ladies except those whose relationship status has just changed to “single”? That’s how you find the ripe ones!

brb jerking off to facebook

Why do people refuse to hang out with me and then have three-hour conversations with me across Facebook?

Maybe it’s because I’ve always been friends with lazy stoners. Or they just don’t like me, which pretty much invalidates our friendship status. -1 friend but there are still 257 left

“Wow asshole, you sure do have a lot of negative opinions about Facebook. Maybe you should stop using it?”

Maybe. But for now, I have developed a sort of perverted fondness for it – like Wal-Mart. Facebook bastardizes human interaction. Wal-Mart destroys local economies. I think the friendship economy is in a recession.

There is intrinsic value in the understanding and hatred of many things, and I encourage all of you to attack something or someone you hate today.

Now, I’m going out to throw some alcohol onto this roaring fire of rage and then I’ll come back to report its effects.

This has been brought to you by Lebal Drocer

“Facebook is garbage.”

-Mike Odum

Edit: I’m home again. I did not drink too much, as I took a look around at my surroundings and into my glass and decided that I’m not reaching my full potential sitting at the bar around people I hate more than myspace. My perspective has not changed, but it did occur to me after some conversation on the matter that Facebook is occasionally used for its intended purpose, like catching up with an old friend after many years. However, my opinion that it is a cesspool of immeasurable proportions will never change, but only reinforce itself as that website gets older and more used, like the girls on it.

Opinion: Just Because I Live At This Apartment Complex Doesn't Mean You Have The Right To Look At Me

Yeah, okay so I haven’t done this whole ear wax blog stuff yet because I don’t have to. But recently this Lebal Drocer company asked me to write something or they’d stop the nitrocious flow of cash that I’ve been getting for over 5 months now (its sweet, believe me loomwads). So I decided to write up a little opinion column for this little waxing elf enthusiast website (seriously what the hell kinda brokeback name is that anyway?)

So recently in the World of Nitro, I’ve began to notice a little trend that I’m not too keen about. It seems like ever since I moved from New Jersey (It’s Jerstrocious!) to this pitiful state, everyone just stares me down like a leper every time I step foot outside. What gives?!? Sometimes I’ll be simply grabbing a 48-pack of brews from the Nitromobile. Other times I’ll be just checking my mailbox, filtering out all the billz and wal-mart junk(the PITS!) and minding my own nitro business(as always). But no matter what, if the Nitrocity himself is outside, you better believe some complete noobody(noob+nobody, quote me!) will be staring me down like I was a TV set.

Now, you gotta realize the scale of noobwads that I get glares from. Its damn near everyone, dudes. The fat, single Tony Soprano-looking dude walking his yappy dog, the guys that believe they are in some kinda rap video at all hours, the fat ugly girls who just sit outside for no reason other than to be annoying, even the wastes of existence that live directly around me (“neighbors” as you call them). I realize you guys are just trying to live (very boringly), but c’mon, you don’t need to bring me down to your level. I got better fish to cook! I realize my hair is longer than yours, my wardrobe cooler than your nicest outfit, my lifestyle more nitrocious than your best night, but there’s no need to stare. Staring won’t get you any closer to being nitrocious. So next time, you happen to be outside, begging for attention with your disposable garbage music (play some Springsteen at least!), walking your dog in hopes of picking up college chicks, or drinking Budweiser Lights at the microscopic pool(seriously I’ve pissed bigger puddles), just ignore my presence because your not getting a free performance or a beer bong to the face out of it.

I’m starting to ramble so i’ll make my point simple: Just because we share the same apartment complex does not give you ANY right to look anywhere near my direction. There’s a million things to look at outside: the shitty cars, the shitty pool, the shitty other people who live here. Why must you choose me to point your vision-producing spheres at? Just because I am a renowned karaoke singer and all-around badass does not mean I’m your toy monkey banging cymbals. I perform for a minimum of 7 figures and unwarrantedly looking my direction just makes that figure rise as well as my inner-rage to shatter your face.

You don’t want to end up like this dude.


Whatever noobs, I’m gonna go get nitrocious. Jim Beam to da face!

Oh yeah, and coming soon, losers…
Just Because I Go To This University Does Not Mean You Have The Right To Look At Me.
Just Because I’m At This Drive-Thru Does Not Give You The Right to Take My Order.