Category Archives: facebook

Facebook Sucks, Part 2

Facebook sucks

I’ve said before and I’ll say it again: Facebook sucks. Once again, I have embarrassed myself on Facebook, and I only had the best of intentions.

I got back together with my ex boyfriend. Not because I hate being single but because it feels right. At this point, our not being together only seems like a pause in the relationship; we’ve been together longer than we haven’t.

So I wanted to make it official, by changing my status on Facebook to “in a relationship”, which is something I’ve never done before, ever. I thought it would be a simple process. I thought it would go over with little fanfare.

How very wrong I was.

You see, Facebook took it upon itself to EMAIL MY FRIENDS PERSONALLY, to let them know I’m in a relationship. If I had known it was going to do that, I wouldn’t have changed my status. Here’s how it went down. I blurred the last names and faces of those involved:



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Facebook sucks.

Carlo Bavagnoli barbarella jane fonda

Facebook. Facebook sucks. Facebook is designed to fuck you over. Facebook is not your friend. Please read my embarrassing story of Facebook horror as a warning. Do not let this happen to you. Consider this your friendly cautionary tale.

I was seeing this guy. He mentioned early on that he had an ex wife and I was like, “Fine with me, I’m not looking to turn this into anything where that means something.” I didn’t say that out loud though. I’M JUST BEING BREEZY.

Then I killed the breeziness.

On one fateful night, I’m looking at his Facebook profile, like you do, and I saw a photo of him with his ex. He mentioned that they were on friendly terms so I thought, oh, I wonder what she looks like and if we have any friends in common.

So then I started looking at her Facebook profile. Just out of curiosity. It’s not like I was doing anything weird, I was just scrolling and clicking and thinking, “Hmm, nice hair” and just being breezy.

And then I saw something horrifying. Something awful. Something that you never, ever want to see on the Facebook profile of someone whose Facebook profile you don’t want anyone to know you’re looking at.

“Friend request sent.”

Yes. Somehow, without realizing it and without doing it on purpose, I clicked “add friend.”

This was my exact facial expression:

mia farrow horror rosemary's baby

This is a still from the scene in “Rosemary’s Baby” where Rosemary sees her baby for the first time and realizes that it isn’t a human baby, but actually the devil’s baby. Our reaction was exactly the same, down to the hand clasped over the mouth.

Then I screamed. My brother ran in the room and said, “What happened?” I said, “I accidentally added this dude’s ex wife on Facebook.” He said, “That’s not bad.” Then paused and said, “Nah…that’s pretty bad.”

I immediately clicked “unrequest” but I have no idea when I clicked “request” to begin with, so I don’t know if she already saw my request.

I have a theory on how this happened: I think I wanted to see what friends we had in common, and the “friends” box is right above the line that says “Do you know blahbah? If so, send blahblah a friend request” and I must have accidentally clicked “request friend” instead of clicking on friends. Fuck you, Facebook. That’s fucking evil. That’s horrible placement.

So I’m sitting there freaking out. Because now I look like what every 20 something woman of my generation looks like that we want to avoid at all costs: a crazy fucking digital stalker. There was nothing I could do. I could tell him before she told him, but what if she doesn’t see it or what if she saw it but doesn’t tell him? Then I’m volunteering my craziness.

Assuming she saw it, I ran through all of the scenarios.

She saw it.

She saw it, and didn’t care.

She saw it, cared, and clicked on my profile.

She saw it, cared, clicked on my profile, investigated, and saw that we have her ex in common.

She saw it, cared, clicked on my profile, investigated, saw that we have her ex in common, and told her ex.

She saw it, cared, clicked on my profile, investigated, saw that we have her ex in common, told her ex, and he was horrified.

She saw it, cared, clicked on my profile, investigated, saw that we have her ex in common, told her ex, he was horrified, and they killed my family.

But who would do that, right? I’m safe, right? Right?? Right.

A few days later, the guy comes over. We’re just talking about his cat and then, without missing a beat, he says, “My ex wife told me that you added her and unadded her on Facebook.”

This was my exact facial expression:

shelley duvall the shining here's johnny

This is a still from “The Shining” when Jack Nicholson goes crazy and comes after Shelley Duvall with an ax.

This was my exact reaction before I immediately hid my face and did a sort of screechy/laughing/groaning thing while shouting, “Let me explain” and “Oh my God” in a failed attempt to be playful and cute and in an even BIGGER failed attempt to be breezy. I didn’t even TRY to be breezy. I’m just trying to imagine what I must seem to him like now. He must think I’m fucking insane. But it was an honest mistake on my part.

Please, everyone. Learn from my mistakes. Don’t do what I did, or didn’t do. Even though it’s HILARIOUS.

One thing though. I am not posting this piece of writing anywhere on my Facebook page, or my blog’s Facebook page, or on my Twitter. So if either of them see this, that means they willingly read my blog, and that’s all on them. Who’s crazy now, huh????? HUH?? BOOM! Not me. Not me at all. No way, dudes. Not me, I’m BREEEEZZZZYYYYY!

here's johnny


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Blind Dates (Apparently Still Exist).

laura kadner apocalypstick almie rosephoto taken by me of my friend Laura.

I got a special request to do a post about blind dates. I always take special requests into consideration, btw. Just email me or internet me in some other form.

Is it still politically correct to use the term “blind date”? The more I think about it the more uncomfortable it makes me.

Right, so I’ve been on one blind date in my life. And here’s the thing: in this world we now live in, with so much information on the internet about everyone, there really is no such thing as a true blind date anymore. I guarantee you that your blind date has combed through your Facebook. If your settings are very private, then they’ve found something else on the Internet about you, somewhere. The most awkward thing is when you’re on your first date and you pretend not to know what that person is telling you right at that moment because you’ve already seen it on Facebook.

So that’s the first thing, no blind date is without sight.


Secondly, how does one handle a blind date? Remember the show “Blind Date?” If you don’t, the show was about filming people going on blind dates, complete with commentary that was hilaritrocious. I would pretend that you’re on that show. Pretend you’re being filmed and remember, you want to look good on camera. Your grandma could watch this. Don’t do anything on this date that you wouldn’t want your grandma to see. If your grandma is dead, then these rules don’t apply, because she’s always watching you anyway.

So it’s fun to pretend you’re on a TV show because it makes the whole situation just silly. Silly as a toad in a top hat.

Like all those jerks say, be yourself. If you can’t be yourself, be Faye Dunaway. Try to avoid being Kanye West. Few can pull that off. But if you’re nervous, just say you’re nervous. Don’t say it more than once (twice at most) because then you’ll make the other person nervous and/or annoyed. Because the person is probably a little nervous too. After all, you’re strangers. As children we’ve been taught to avoid them but then the Internet happened and that pretty much went out the window.

My best advice for blind dates? Show up. There is nothing crueler than standing up a blind date. At least get to know the person before you dislike them.

Have you ever been on a blind date? How did it go?

If you want some other dating tips/advice, there’s this post about running into my Facebook crush at a party and this post about the time I was stood up. (Though it was more like being blown off than stood up. Such a fine line.)


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Like Paul McCartney.

fashion's night out

I wrote this on my facebook and it seemed to resonate with a lot of people:

Today I saw something on Facebook that made me jealous and instead of wishing that person got hit in the head with a sled and wondering why my life isn’t like that and what’s so bad about me and screw everyone, I instead thought, “How nice for this person, I’m glad they’re doing well, and I ate a lot of cheese tonight so I’m pretty okay too.”

I’ve talked about overcoming jealously before but it seems like now that Facebook is as big a monster as ever before, and now that Google+ has arrived (LOL just kidding, no one cares about Google+) I’ve noticed that a lot of my friends feel more insecure about themselves. Someone will say something about how so-and-so has a great life and career and call them a “bitch” or a “slut” and I say, how do you know this, I haven’t seen that person since high school, and the answer is always the same:


Here’s what you can do: you can feel bad about or yourself or you can comment on that person’s post, “That’s awesome!” or something. It’s okay if you don’t fully mean it, as long as it doesn’t come off as sarcastic. Because eventually you will mean it. “The more you give, the more you get.” — Paul McCartney and probably lots of other people. This was a really hard lesson for me to learn. First I had to realize it. My thinking was, “Why the hell should I be happy for this person, they’re a jerk and I’m awesome and nothing great is happening for me.” But thinking that way didn’t make me more successful. And it didn’t make them less successful. It just put me in a bad mood.

And I guarantee you that for every Facebook post you see about someone’s awesome life, there’s about two that you don’t. Remember, few people are going to post things like, “Today I cried on the phone with my therapist and gave up on my life.” Actually you might see me post that. But that’s not because I’m looking for sympathy, it’s because I have no filter at all, and just tell it like it is. This actually got me in trouble today and I feel horrible about it. I have to learn to say things in my head before I speak them. (And I really am sorry and I heart you very much.)

OK so. Conan O’Brien kind of changed my life when he said, “If you work hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.” Work Hard & Be Kind has become my motto, my mantra, my manatee. (I needed to keep the alliteration going.) When you do this, amazing things DO happen. When you help your friends, they help you. At the core, all people really want is to feel okay. Not even great, just okay. And it’s so easy to make someone feel okay. All you have to do is sign onto Facebook and “like” something. Again, at first it will feel like you’re lying to yourself, but you’ll soon realize that people are honestly touched when you reach out, especially if you’re the kind of person who never does. Some people are genuine assholes, but those people have terrible parents, so it’s only half their fault and really you should feel badly for them. Even if they have their own house that their parents paid for and they have a great job that their parents got them. Because again, there’s no reason to wish them harm. It’s not going to get you anywhere.

Geez, this went on long enough. Tell me, does Facebook make you jealous? Studies have shown that it has this effect on people. What do you do to overcome jealously, or do you not bother?


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I don’t know what’s going on with me lately, or if this is something I’ve always done and haven’t noticed, BUT I CAN’T SHUT THE FUCK UP. By which I mean, if you engage me, I will go on tangents like they’re a free trip to Paris. If I’m introduced to a group, I am shy, unless I start drinking or unless you engage me. And if you engage me, watch the fuck out. You know those movies where there’s that adorable quirky girl that is fascinating? Or is supposed to be, but actually she’s not quirky, she just has no filter and won’t shut the fuck up?


Last night I was at a dinner and I felt the need to tell this guy about myself, but 90% of what I told him was totally unnecessary and not remotely interesting. Example:

DUDE: What do you do?

ME: Oh I’m a writer, I mean sort of, I have this blog, wait here’s my card! I don’t mean to be weird it’s just I have these cards and I really like them but I’m trying to get rid of them because I should have gotten them glossy but I didn’t, so now I want to get them glossy but I should give these out first. But you seem really cool so I actually really want you to have my card. (Takes out card, gives it to guy. Guys says card is cool, thus making the mistake of engaging me further.) Yeah, I love these, I love the people who made my blog, they’re called Shaterboxx media, you should contact them if you need a website or blog or something, so I have this blog, it’s about dating and relationships and living in LA, but I don’t really know, so I do that, and I blog for other sites, and I used to have a part time job but I quit that, and now I’m doing something else, but this ring I’m wearing was from my old job, but anyway, I write and oh I also have a column for this magazine, it’s called Genlux, it’s this fashion magazine, I don’t know, I have a relationship column in it. We just did this photo shoot, it’s in the latest issue, with Emmy Rossum on the cover, where we did this fashion spread on bloggers and I was in it, but I wasn’t crazy about my hair at first but I don’t know, I always have issues with my hair. I just got my bangs trimmed.


Dustin, if you’re reading this, thank you for not punching me in the face.

There’s a fine line between Annie Hall and Annie, Get Your Gun And Shoot Yourself In The Face. Oh my God, these puns, I’m like Carrie Bradshaw. I mean I think she’s awesome, but she had some pretty bad puns. Isn’t it weird how she’s such a big cultural figure that she’s become more famous than Sarah Jessica Parker?


I guess most of my blog is tangents, but I hope that they’re somewhat related to each other, like some weird inbred family. It’s just that my brain is constantly rambling with anecdotes and things that I shouldn’t say out loud, but actually most of the time it works out. Something that you would say to a normal person would get you slapped but maybe it’s because I’m charming or because I hang out with awesome people, but they get it. They go with it. If they don’t go with it, it’s awkward. It’s usually awkward either way, but it’s especially awkward when someone is on a totally different wavelength. It’s like what do you talk about? You talk about Facebook.

Facebook has replaced weather as the default conversation topic.

It’s sad but true?

I don’t know, I’m just going to shut up and drink my wine.


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Oh No. The Internet Is Here.

A few nights ago, I went to a house party with a dear redheaded friend. I love house parties. It’s the unexpected factor. Will there be good drinks? Will there be cute guys? Will this be the house party that you saw in the movies, the one where everyone had a good time and there’s fun indie music playing in the background and you all wound up jumping into a pool and then dancing in front of a huge fireplace? Who knows?!

This house party had none of those things. However, they did have food, which I will give them major, major props for. Then again, they also had minimal seating and a very loud band. Look, I’m an old person, I guess. I want to go to a party where I don’t have to drink cheap vodka out of a red plastic cup and where I don’t have to pretend to care about your stupid band that Pitchfork just loves. I want to have adult conversations and adult drinks. At least people are starting to dress better. Yikes, here I go. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: I am an old gay man trapped in a young woman’s body.

But that’s not important right now.

Most of the party was spent with the two of us talking solely to each other. I wasn’t in the mood to socialize with others. I was just in the mood to look good and pose. Which is basically what I did. I admit, I could have been nicer. But when a drunk girl practically collapses into your lap exclaiming, “WHOA, I did NOT see those steps there!” and cackles like Bette Midler without the charm, am I supposed to smile and agree? Or am I just a huge bitch?

Here’s where it went from awkward to straight up uncomfortable. My friend and I wandered into the living room and I saw in front of me a very attractive man. He was tall, had the profile of Adrien Brody, and the glasses of Don Draper, if Don Draper wore glasses. Basically I’m saying he was a handsome, well-dressed man. He looked oddly familiar. I was pretty sure that he wasn’t actually Adrien Brody, so why did he look so familiar? And then, like a sharp hiccup, it came to me.

This was my Facebook crush.

A long time ago, I went “boy shopping” on Facebook. I scanned friends and friends of friends for cute boys. I found one and I messaged him saying, “I don’t know you, but I think you’re cute.” He added me back. I looked at his photos, came to the conclusion that he had a girlfriend, and that was that. Eventually I landed a relationship of my own (which recently exploded, like the rockets’ red glare) and never thought of him again.

Until I saw him, in person, at this party.

“Oh no,” I thought. “The internet is here.”

I didn’t introduce myself. I don’t think he noticed me. Probably because I tried my hardest to become one with the wall. But it was a shame. There he was, cuter in person, with a (most likely) girlfriend in tow, and I was doing my best to pretend like we didn’t have access to each others’ newsfeeds. Not like I’m assuming he even checked my Facebook profile. Which brings me to another “I am secretly an old person” eye roll: when did the Internet go from being a convenient way to meet people to a new way to make people feel awkward?

I whispered to my friend the whole messy scenario. We then escaped outside. Where I ran into ANOTHER guy I was friends with on Facebook but not in “real life.” We ignored each other. Or rather, I ignored him, while he probably took no notice of me and if he did, had no idea who I was. The Internet is here, and it’s a real thing, and it’s freaking me out. I do not like what this beast has unleashed upon my generation. Like we don’t have enough problems (hello, fucked up economy, nice to see you again).

As usual, I blame the internet for everything. Always.

We’ve Been Had — The Walkmen


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Gossip Girl?

Sometimes I worry that I’m using my friends’ lives too much for my own material. And I couldn’t help but wonder (TM Carrie Bradshaw) how did Carrie blog when she was in a relationship? Wasn’t it easier when she was single?

“Definitely,” responded Molly. “It’s easier. That’s why people stay single. For comedy. Once I told a guy I couldn’t date him cause I had to be celibate to write good spec scripts.”

Then Molly pointed out that Carrie used her friends for her columns all the time. I always wondered about that. I wondered if Miranda or Charlotte ever phoned Carrie shouting, “What the hell were you thinking printing that my date always has to shower after having sex with me!” Maybe they just never read her column. Honestly, I don’t think they ever read her column.

And suddenly, I realized something (TM Carrie Bradshaw). I write as much about my friends’ dating lives as my own. Molly doesn’t mind. She says that’s just writing. That’s just how it works. But she’s also a writer so maybe she’s a little more tolerant. And I never name names. But where does one draw the line? Is there a line? I’m again going to take the opportunity to blame Facebook for something. But really, I think Facebook changed the way people think about sharing. Twitter, blogger, all of them contributed to this outpouring of feelings. We’re all sharing in some way.

What did Carrie’s boyfriends think of their appearances in her columns? I know that when Big read her book he felt terrible about how he treated her in the past. I bet Aiden read it and thought, “Whatever, Carrie” and threw it in his hand-carved fireplace. I should take this time to mention that I still haven’t seen the sequel so please don’t spoil SATC2 for me.

Speaking of Sex and the City it looks like I’m going to interview Jason Lewis, aka Smith Jarrod, tomorrow. Anyone got any questions they’d like me to ask him? Aside from, will you date me/marry me/etc me?

Summerboy — Lady Gaga


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