Tuesday, March 15, 2011

The Infamous List....


If you want something to go viral faster than "Two Girls One Cup", just log on to your facebook and make your buddy list of chicks read, "Girls I'd Sleep With". It only takes about a minute to do and it works wonders in this cut-throat, real life world we know as Facebook.


After about a dozen games of intense Playstation and draining my main vein watching YouPorn - I got a few texts from people. "You gotta check out this kids facebook," "Dude your fiance is on this list," "What's up with that list." So like any person with a pulse would do - I looked like a College kid in the combine and sprinted to my computer to see what the craze is.

Come to find out it's a list. It includes his one black friend (Classic) and Girls that he'd sleep with. Of course I come out guns blazing looking to see if my fiance is on the list - Find her. Now at this point, How should I feel. (A) Pissed off that my fiance is on the tag list, (B) Think its funny and a compliment that she's on the hit list, or (C) Who cares -- Well to be honest for me it was, (D) All of the above.

After staring at it for a good ten minutes it took a text message from my fiance saying "Tell him to take me off" to get my gears grinding on this situation. I decided to compose a facebook comment along the lines of "Grow up Peter Pan, That's Disrespectful, She's your friend, Take her off." After a few roasts back my way - the whole thing started to become a bit more clear. I had just become the little mouse that got buckled in the cheese trap.



Not a good feeling. It's like pissing your pants when you blackout or when people draw dicks on your face at a party - Sure, there's always soap and water to wash those things off, but that's why I continue this discussion today.

Sure there were a few people on both sides of the fence - "Not cool, Disrespect, Weird" , then there was the complete other side of the spectrum, "Winning, Just a joke, Funny". So then something finally kicked in. Maybe it was a 25 minute conversation on the cell phone or the hour I just spent doing my dishes after lunch. Whatever it was, something hit me.

The more I think about it, why the fuck wouldn't you want to be on the list. I actually want to be on the list now. What if my fiance wasn't on the list ? Does that mean she's ugly, Would I send him a message in that scenario ? I don't fucking know, I might come out like El Sensitivo again and start pleading my case. Honestly though, wouldn't you guys want to be on a list ? If I saw a random chick make a list saying "Dudes I'd want to Do" and I was on the list I would probably take my shirt off and smile at myself in the mirror. I wouldn't ask anyone to take me off that list, I would love it.

Yesterday I admit, I looked like a whiny bitch. Facebook isn't real life. It's like getting dysentery in the Oregon Trail - not real bro. It's just a fucking social network some geek built and people take it too seriously (i.e. myself sixteen hours ago). I'm going to go out on a limb and say he's not sitting at home with a checklist and pen in hand saying "I need to take her down", "she'd be an easy target," Cause if that were the case he would get shut down faster than the Royals against Mariano Rivera.

I'm sure people still don't care for the list. With each minute that passes I find myself liking it more than hating it. I think more lists like "girls that put out", "dudes with small dongs", "friends that bring nothing to the table." Would also be some pretty cool lists to have on your Facebook.

I ate crow yesterday. It tasted like shit. But at least I didn't finish the whole thing. I washed it down with a sense of humor and a little reality check that "If you take life, or facebook for that matter, too seriously you'll never get out alive. (Unless your Rambo).



1 comment:

  1. you shouldnt have been mad in the first place...whos fiance is she...yours so u shouldnt be worried lol but im on the fence cuz id be pissed too so hey you got every right in the world to take it out of context....well handled sir.

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