Every time someone sends me a friend request, I’m filled with a sense of dread. Why? Because I’m a lot to take on Facebook, and — for some people, like the twenty-something, best friend of my sister’s step-son — a friendship with me is Not A Good Fit. So, I started writing warnings to friend requesters to avoid an unfriending extravaganza.
My first Facebook friend warnings were efficient one-liners: “I’m an adorable liberal with Tourette’s.” Eventually, the pithy warnings became paragraphs, and then the paragraphs became essays. But I no longer have time for these short story warnings. It’s time to boilerplate this father fucker.
Catherine B. Winchild’s Facebook Friend Warning
Swearing: My Facebook posts lean Dennis Leary. If Dennis Leary was an adorable feminist. Baseball: I’m a New York Yankees fan, so a sentence like, “I talked to a drunk Red Sox fan in a bar in Boston,” would be redundant to me on many levels. Facebook is a place I like to make fun of Boston. And those garden gnomes they refer to as their baseball players. Quantity: My post/day rate is pretty high. Yesterday I wrote eleven posts. (Good day!) Whenever you log on, I’ll be there. Politics: I refer to my vagina as my “glock” so republican politicians will understand why I want them to stay out of it. That should give you a pretty good sense of what you’re in for on the politics front. Stepford: I’ve been running away from Stepford since I lived in the town in which the story was based. Somehow, I’ve managed to find another town where they are prevalent. Stepford Wives (and the Husbands) are unkind toward the working class, freeze like a deer in headlights when you answer their question about where you live, talk about boat buying in mixed socioeconomic company and are too stupid to know what the the word “socioeconomic” means. I take a no-mercy approach to their obnoxiousness on Facebook. Luxury Cars: I don’t hate luxury cars, I just hate them here in Swankington. Everyone seems to be driving one. And when I say “driving,” I mean “doing something completely fucking bat shit crazy.” The luxury car I make fun of the most on Facebook is the Range/Land Rover, although I’m really starting hate those Mercedes SUVs, mostly because they don’t seem to come in any other color besides “nazi.” Tampons: If I ever write that book, I’ll be able to dedicate an entire chapter to my tampon jokes. Be prepared. They account for some of my best work on Facebook. Self-liking: I think I’m hysterically funny and will often laugh out loud at the thoughts that pop into my head. Anything that cracks me up goes into a post. And when I crack myself up, I always like my own posts. It’s adorable. Boundaries: Unlike dishwasher loading, boundaries have never been my strength. But if you’re looking for someone who will talk openly on Facebook about her experiences with menopause, weight loss/gain, errant grey facial hairs, mental illness, anxiety, medications, etc., then I AM YOUR WOMAN! What do you think? Are you game? If so, WELCOME! Your Facebook experience is about to improve exponentially. Now, whenever you’re scrolling past the pictures of your friends’ children, you’ll get me in there. For free! If this warning terrifies you, please just walk away. WALK…AWAY!!!!!