Every so often, Facebook likes to crank its stalkerishness all the way up to 11 and dig out one of my old status updates to surprise me with in my news feed.
Because clearly there needed to be more things on the internet that make my skin crawl.
They claim these zombie posts are being resurrected in the name of nostalgia, but frankly all they do is remind me of is how fucking boring I am.
“On this day you posted a cat meme!”
“On this day you complained about work!”
“On this day you wrote a paragraph-long ode to a particularly good sandwich!”
How Facebook expects me to react: “Well goodness me oh my, that certainly does take me back to the good old days! What a lovely gesture, Facebook. Say, does anyone else hear Green Day’s ‘Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)’ playing softly in the background?”
How I actually react:
They give you the option to share these creepy little ambush time capsules too, in case you’re so impressed with that witty remark you made or that photo you took or that guy you married four years ago that you feel the need to subject your friends to the experience all over again.
Which I do, because if I have to suffer, then everyone else is bloody well going to suffer with me.
Then again, my snarky reposts of all these old useless memories seem to universally get more me likes and comments than the original posts ever did, so who knows, maybe Facebook’s onto something.
So what takes priority? Reluctance to be creeped on, or popularity?
…I guess the fact that I’m on social media in the first place answers that question.
Fine, the memories can stay.
Just- no more weird scrapbooking, please?
Author’s Note: To my dear ones who made much-appreciated suggestions for future blog posts, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you, I’m just swamped this week with work and photography and haven’t had a moment to think. The requested tales of sex, booze and embarrassment are on my To Do list, I promise.