I had the most ridiculous conversation with someone today, and it’s prompted me to mention, in case anyone’s under a false assumption . . .
I don’t read your Facebook.
Regardless of who you are, I don’t read your Facebook. There are a few blogs I look at, semi-regularly, and during the week I check my email every evening. But I don’t read your Facebook. (it’s not personal, I don’t read anyone’s)
So if you’ve had a baby recently, gotten a new job, experienced some fantastic news, won the Lotto, lost a limb to a shark attack, grown a third eyeball, bought a new car or sold your house – if you’re writing your memoirs, sold a script, taken to shoving pencils up your left nostril out of frustration – if your family has disowned you or you’ve sold your eldest child to gypsies, if you’ve dropped your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/significant other, you’re considering a career change, bought some new gym equipment, got something waxed, married your parrot.
If you’ve stopped communicating with me because you’re busy posting all of your pertinent information on Facebook – if you start conversations based on the assumption that I’ve been checking your updates every five minutes – if you fail to let me know of some important event because you’d already updated your status – if you’re flying under the assumption that Everyone who’s Anyone already knows Every Little Ever-Lovin’ detail of your day-to-day existence because Everyone who’s Anyone reads your updates and would already know Everything there is to know about YOU, just keep in mind . . . Regardless of who you are . . . if there is something happening in your life that you’d like me to know, you’re gonna have to tell me because . . .
I don’t read your fucking Facebook.