REMINDER: You Do Not Have To Post On Facebook To Be Grateful

Shocking, I know.

You are capable of being something – anything – without posting it on the Internet.

A lot of people are doing that whole month long grateful post thing. You know, the thing where every day, for the entire month of November, you post a pithy status update on your social media app of choice professing loudly and clearly for all to hear that – YES, YOU ARE GRATEFUL.

If this is your thing, cool. Let me say that again for the people in the back: IF THIS IS YOUR THING, COOL.

I am not saying you shouldn’t do it.

But don’t be coming at me with bullshit like the claim that I am not grateful because I choose to not post a daily gratitude affirmation for the entire world to read.

Honestly, people.

Here’s the thing about Facebook. It’s a place where people can, much like in Las Vegas, be just about anything they want to be. Grateful is one of them. It’s all about the impression that you give people with your Facebook impressions, and all that jazz.

There are going to occasionally be people posting about gratitude that actually are the most terrible, selfish and ungrateful people on the planet. And there are similarly going to be people that don’t post the whole gratitude thing, and appreciate things more than you could ever imagine. This is the result of the Internet’s ability to let people unabashadly craft their own persona, based on reality or not.

So this can serve as a little reminder for those of you that are in the back, and haven’t gotten the memo just yet: you do not have to post on Facebook – or anywhere else – about being thankful to actually be grateful for what you have.

Survey Says…

The results are in!

A while ago, I sent out a survey to you guys on Surveymonkey, and the responses were OVERWHELMING.

Just kidding, a ton of people took the time to click the survey; a mere 17 of you took the time to complete it.

To you 17…a sincere and heartfelt thanks…

To the rest of you: well, you have a chance to redeem yourselves from your complacent silence.

First, let’s get to the results of the survey.

First-first, let’s remind ourselves what the survey was about.

I am trying to really get my blog more social. I feel as though I haven’t been networking and marketing quite as effectively as I could. Not that I’ve had a drop in readers on my small corner of the Internet; just that there is so much out there available to get your content out there as a writer, and I feel as though I wasn’t taking full advantage of what the world of the wide web has to offer.

So my survey results, few as there were, spoke volumes about what I’ve been doing right (thank God I’ve done some of it the right way), and what I could cut out or quit wasting my time on, so that I can spend that time doing more of the right stuff.

Also: we’ve concluded that I was correct in my previous assumption that Myspace is dead and Snapchat is for kids and hos.

I’ll paste the specific question results in below, but first-first-first let’s talk about how you guys can help me just one more time (and in the case of you lazy bums that looked but clicked away, for the first time):

The thing I’ve been really trying to integrate into my blog content is more video or podcasty type of stuff. No matter what I’ve done though, I can never seem to come up with enough of what I would call good material to do something like a weekly video blog or monthly podcast.

I really want to do it though. I feel video and audio is the wave of the future – who has time to always sit down and read some random lady’s rantings on the Internet? Give me a quick a dirty something to listen to in the car, or watch while I am at a kid’s sports event, and I’m good!

So what would you guys like to see or hear from me (as opposed to read)?

Seriously, that’s the only question in this second inquiry: what the hell do you want to see or listen to me talk about (if I can ever get over how annoying my voice sounds)?

Comment, message, or carrier pigeon me your wishes… I’m open to *almost* anything.

Thanks again to those of you that replied to my survey a while back. I’ll paste in the results as a little slideshow now for your enjoyment:

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I Lost 31 Facebook Friends Today Because I Posted About My Anxiety Disorder

By “lost” I mean that I gave them the boot. They were all family. My husband’s family, to be specific.

I have an anxiety disorder. It’s mostly hormonal at this point, but the more I deal with it the more I realize it’s also situational. Situational in the sense that I feel a huge conflict between who I am and what I feel I’m allowed to be.

What I feel my husband’s family allows me to be.

To the point, though: right now, I’m in a bad place anxiety-wise. Depression too. It’s OK for me to say that. It’s OK for me to talk about it. And it’s OK for me to set limits and boundaries with all of that in light.

That I feel I have to say any of that is absurd.

So we have been thinking about moving out of our neighborhood basically since we moved in about two years ago. There’s a lot of crime in the community, which is crazy because it’s a beautiful neighborhood with a lot of wonderful people. But moreover, the situation with living in a family-owned home was stressful. And…it just wasn’t enough room for our family.

Finally, several weeks back we found a couple rentals within our price range. Rentals that were bigger. Rentals that didn’t make us feel we were responsible for maintenance because of the family nature of it. Rentals that were a real step up for our family. We started looking at them, applying for them…and within a day or two of even looking, we got the best of all of them.

So we’re moving out of the family-owned townhouse in the crime-ridden community with AMAZING neighbors (that part is in no way sarcastic…except for the ones from that whole pee gate episode a while back, I have never met nicer people)…and the family owned townhouse is up for rent.

Today, my father in law just showed up at the townhouse, though, insisting he be allowed to come in and inspect the place to see what kind of work he would need to do.

To start, we have put so much work into the place simply because my husband and I felt it was our responsibility. Nay, it was said it was always his and his brother’s responsibility. So to be so freaked out and worked up about how much work it may or may not need before it goes up for rent again was a little…suspicious… Moreover, we paid through the 31st. If we need until then to move out, we sure as hell can. And if you really have to get all freaked out and come over – is it so hard to make a phone call and ask when a good time would be? REALLY?

Apparently.

In any event, my husband walked outside and asked politely that he come another time. Today was not a good time. My anxiety level was already through the roof. I have spent every day since Saturday (today is Wednesday) crying, most of the time for reasons I’m not sure. I’ve used more Xanax this week than in the last several weeks. In short: I’m a mess.

The move, however, has been going PERFECTLY. We have just a couple more days in the townhouse and the new place is basically all set up already. And my husband knew that I needed to know that THAT aspect was under control, since everything else seems to be falling apart. Not to have the added pressure of any complaints about the townhouse on my shoulders.

Also, my home is – right now – my only safe place.

His dad pushed his way past him, and barged into the house.

Terrified of my personal space being violated like that, I went up to our bedroom and shut the door. I stayed in there trying to stay calm until he left. It isn’t that I can’t be around other people, it’s just that my home is my only safe space and I need to feel that way. And who knows, anyway? I could have been in the shower. The kids could have been running around in underpants… Who thinks they can just show up and barge into another person’s house like that? ESPECIALLY someone you know has an anxiety disorder?

Once he left, I felt completely panicked and violated. My safe zone was taken control of. I’ve been working so hard to have safe zones – things that help me stay calm, help me keep my anxiety under control… now I have lost that one. Sure, we are moving out in just a couple more days…but a couple days with a panic disorder is an eternity.

So, naturally, I took to social media to vent my frustrations. I did it as vaguely and anonymously as I could. There was NO WAY anyone would know who or what I was talking about. NONE!

I had no intention of even going into specifics as to what happened. I wasn’t planning on blogging about it, like I just did. I. Planned. Nothing. But. To. Post. A. Vague. Vent. And. Reminder. (And note: my husband’s dad is not on Facebook, so would never even see this.)

Here was the pertinent part (the rest was me talking about how much I truly hope to keep the friendships I have with my former community)…

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Within minutes, though, the family brigade came out in full force. First, my husband’s mother, who is never online and was at work at the time, suddenly became active enough on Facebook to see my post and decided to reveal in the comments who the offender was. Suddenly aunts were telling me I am ungrateful and should delete my post. That I should be thankful for everything they’ve done for me (to be clear: the only person that has done anything for us has been MY dad, and my husband will be the first to admit that). Shame on me for being such a terrible person!

Shame. On. Me. For. Having. An. Anxiety. Disorder. That. Necessitates. I. Need. A. Safe. Space. That. Being. My. Home.

I tried not to respond to their shit, but finally I did and just defended myself. Which I know I shouldn’t do. I’ve been going to therapy for this anxiety, and the therapist even tells me if I don’t stop defending myself to these people nothing will ever change.

But it just kept going. Suddenly uncles were revealing gossip that had clearly been spreading through the family about us moving out (the idea that we gave no notice that we were moving out). MY near and dear and long time friends were coming to my aid, and family were telling – Internet screaming – at them to butt the fuck out of family affairs. Family members were making public calls for other family to join in and back them up about not tolerating MY TOTALLY AND UTTERLY EGREGIOUS BEHAVIOR ANY FURTHER (it sounded a little drunk-Facebooking at that point). My husband, at work, started getting phone calls from people not even affiliated with me online to get me under control.

Like really?

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To all of this bullshit, I have a few things to say:

  1. It is not OK to just show up at someone’s house, under any circumstance, for any reason whatsoever, and just barge in. You may be stupid. You may have no manners. You may be a blood relative. Doesn’t matter – it is never OK.
  2. It is not OK to shame someone for having an anxiety disorder that requires a little extra consideration about the rude and ignorant shit you do and say.
  3. People are allowed to have feelings and express them.
  4. If you are so stupid so as to respond to someone’s vague post about something with all the specifics, YOU ARE TO BLAME when that escalates out of control.
  5. Facebook friends should be people I would actually be friends with in real life. I would never be friends with people that shame someone for having an anxiety disorder and asking that their personal space at home be respected because of it.
  6. My husband’s family never responds to all the positive and bad ass things I post online about our lives. Adorable pictures of the kids. Silence. Husband got a promotion. Nothing. Heather has an anxiety disorder. FUCK YOU HEATHER YOU DUMB CUNT HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT THIS FAMILY LIKE THAT.

Here’s the thing about it all that I have come to realize and think about over the last several months – not just today. Our kids are witnessing all of this. They hear about it or see it or feel the effects of it at a family party. Is this really the lesson I want to teach my kids? That people can bully and shame others for sharing about their mental health? My oldest daughter has generalized anxiety disorder – should I teach her that she should hide it and not set boundaries with others to keep that under control?

At this point, this isn’t even about me anymore. It’s about my kids. They deserve extended family that is accepting and loving and compassionate and doesn’t act like a bunch of psychotic drunks calling publicly for a revolt against someone that says something they don’t like. If someone doesn’t gel with those values I want to raise my kids with, they’ll be deleted and blocked from online and real life. Tonight, it happened to be 31 of them.

 

 

I Don’t Care About 3D Mascara, Jamberry Nails, Facials, ITWorks Wraps, or Beach Bodies

That may sound a little harsh.

i-dont-always-do-my-hair-makeup-but-when-i-do-i-make-sure-to-post-it-on-facebook-d8951Of course I care about mascara, I wear it often enough to. Not often enough to obsessively buy your Younique 3D lash mascara that comes out with something new every two months. Not often enough to suddenly abandon my go-to make up brands for the occasional times that I wear a full face-worth of the stuff. As though Benefit and Smashbox weren’t good to me all these years. As though because someone I once knew of in high school selling Mary Kay cosmetics or Younique fiber lashes is going to erase all of my previous and perfectly acceptable experience with Revlon.

And while I definitely like for my nails to be well-kept and nicely polished, I heretofore politely decline any and all invitations to your Jamberry Nail Parties.

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What I don’t give a flying fuck about is getting facials. I’m a stay at home mom and a writer – I can’t afford that bullshit. And anyway, I must have magical skin made out of unicorn puke and Carebear stare juice – because I have literally never considered doing anything other than washing my face with some basic ass soap every morning, followed with some moisturizer I got on Clearance at Target that has an SPF in it. I have no wrinkles. I have no frown lines. I have no cystic acne. My skin does not flake or peel. I am perfectly content with my skin and do not need Rodens + Fields or Nerium or Beauticontrol that all cost a hell of a lot more time and money than my bar of Dove.

I have no interest in wraps, either. Whether ITWorks or not, I don’t fucking care. As I scroll through my Instagram feed and see photo after photo after photo of people’s before and after ITWorks shots – bulbous legs, arms, and bellies suddenly made ultra thin by a piece of miracle saran wrap – I am more compelled to sign off social media altogether than at any other time in my daily social media usage.

That is how much ITWorks annoys me. Be it the photos, or the fact that one person selling ITWorks follows you, and suddenly you’ve got forty-five spammy ITWorks people sending you messages about how you too can sell ITWorks and change people’s lives!

I have a way to change people’s lives and help them get skinny: eat a fucking apple and get off the couch.

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The newest thing showing up in my Instagram and my Facebook and my Twitter and my email and in just daily life is the Piyo. The 21 Day Fix. The Beachbody. The Shakeology. I don’t know if these are all the same thing, or if they’re different, but I do know one thing: you people drank the Kool-Aid. Drank it. Drank that shit right up, probably out of your Shakeology blender while posting thirty selfies of your post-work out sweat.

I do not begrudge anyone getting in shape. I do not hate people eating healthy.

What I can’t stand is when they’re shoving it down my throat, trying to force me to drink their Kool-Aid too. What I do begrudge are the people suddenly becoming Beachbody consultants – or whatever the fuck they are – and making a little fan page on Facebook and asking me to “like” it, when just a few, short years ago NONE OF THEM would “like” my fan page for my WRITING CAREER.

I am like an elephant – I have an exquisite memory. When I was doing my undergrad, I worked full time at a pharmacy, and I had a disturbingly uncanny ability to remember all the customers, recognize their voices over the phone, and even some of the details of their medications and insurance claims. The manager of the pharmacy used to say that it was like Cheers: everyone came to our pharmacy, because when they walked in the door I’d always shout “Norm!”

I remember who was supportive of my writing career from the get-go. I still have the unfortunate and recent memories in my mind of all the people who said they don’t read books and don’t like blogs, and don’t “DO” fan pages.

Well guess what? If you were supportive of me, and continue to be supportive of me, I will cheer you on to the end of days as you sip your kale smoothies and make your pastas out of ground up beans, because the 21 Day Fix told you to. I will “like” your fiber lash updates, and politely and quietly just ignore your attempts to sell me make up. I will attend your Jamberry Facebook parties, and even though I won’t buy anything I’ll at least be supportive.

Because I really and truly think that’s what people should be doing for one another – supporting each others’ endeavors, no matter how few fucks they give. That’s what friends and family are for, right?

But just know that deep down I don’t give a shit. My level of shit-giving is currently at -15, and it gets lower with each invite to sell ItWorks or to join a Piyo training session.

Congratulations if you have figured out a way to make some extra money off of your lifestyle choices. Kudos – really! I am genuinely happy for any and all people from my past, my present, or just in general that have been able to balance life, health, happiness, and to earn a little extra cash doing so.

But that doesn’t take away the sting when many of those very people were so unsupportive of my own endeavors just a few short years ago. I’m suddenly expected to jump on board with their shit – which I do, to the extent that I can be supportive without having to buy anything – while they continue to tell me that they don’t “do” blogs or “do” books. But could you give me advice, Heather, about starting a Facebook fan page? Oh and could you make sure to please “like” all of my many weekly Runkeeper updates?

Life and relationships are a two-way street, people; and at the end of each road, you won’t always find a set of Jamberry Nails.

4 Things You Can Do Instead Of (Or In Addition To) Participating In Vacuous Social Media Campaigns

First, I’d like to get something out of the way:

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry if you participate in social media campaigns; if you participated in today’s big social media campaign (#bumpday).

18j2p8l1obzyxjpgI’m sorry if you posted in a vague Facebook status where you put your purse when you get home in the evening to let people know breast cancer is out there.

 

I’m sorry if you did the Ice Bucket challenge or posted a #nomakeupselfie or whatever.

I’m sorry.

I’m not saying you are vacuous. I’m not saying you are lazy.

I’m saying your campaign is vacuous and lazy.

I’m not saying you sit behind your computer and do the easiest things possible, without ever actually lifting a finger or volunteering your time or donating even just a dollar to really help those in need you claim your social media challenges and campaigns help.

I’m saying that a lot of people – in the general sense – are.

A lot of people are posting their social media challenges and literally doing nothing else.

They posted pictures of their favorite childhood cartoon character on their Facebook status to raise awareness of child molestation – and really thought that stopped molesters and helped children. And really did nothing else but pat themselves on the back for their high level of philanthropic outreach.

They did the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge to get out of donating money. Sure, the Ice Bucket Challenge did raise an obscene amount of money for ALS research – from people that didn’t do it. (It was either do the challenge, or donate the money; and while a lot of people did both, a lot of people sincerely thought taking the bucket of ice was an adequate contribution).

So today is Bump Day – a day to raise awareness of motherhood and growing healthy babies. A day to support mothers – new, old, to-be; and band together for the overall health of moms around the world. I get it, and a lot of people I know have done it. Some are pregnant right now, some recently had babies. Some haven’t had a baby in over a decade.

I get it. But I’m also fucking sick of it.

One of the women that posted a photo in my Instagram feed is 8 months pregnant. She posted her #bumpday pic with a little caption about it being in honor of maternal and prenatal health. I happen to know she’s smoked cigarettes for the entire 8 months.

Another “friend” (read: person I knew of in high school over 15 years ago) posted her “bump” 6 months postpartum. It was a flat stomach shot. In the comments she rambled on and on about how she’s glad she isn’t a “fat fuck anymore,” like she apparently felt she was when she was pregnant. Sort of missed the point.

And then there are those with bump loss, and by that I mean #bumpday is just another fucked up reminder that not everyone is destined for an easy path to first time or repeat motherhood. If I were to post my bump photo, it would be for the multiple miscarriages I have had over the last few years, the most recent being just three months ago.unnamed

The point is this: for every well-meaning and good person out there participating in these vacuous social media campaigns, there are so many others just participating with no good intentions whatsoever.

Too many.

The bottom line is that if you want to participate in these social media campaigns, the important thing is to follow up the photos and the posts and the Tweets with actions. Here are just a few suggestions.

1. Donate Money

This is the easiest thing you could possibly do in addition to or instead of participating in social media campaigns.

Donate money.

You can literally do this while sitting on your ass, binge watching Orange Is the New Black, eating pizza directly from the box because you’ve given up so much that you can’t even be bothered to walk 10 feet into your kitchen to get a plate.

Some social media campaigns have even made it so easy that you can just text a number from your phone – it isn’t even usually a full length phone number – and they automatically tack on $5 to your phone bill, which gets donated.

You literally only have to hit five numbers on your cellphone keypad and click send.

2. Donate Time

 This is obvious. Every charity needs volunteers. Every organization needs people to help. Sometimes it’s as simple as making an hour’s worth of phone calls, or stuffing envelopes.

The only caveat is that this will require you to get your ass off the couch, if even just for long enough to sign up to help from home.

3. Learn About the Cause You Are Supposedly Supporting

I guarantee you that a vast majority of people posting their #bumpday photos haven’t a single fucking clue what it’s about.

I also know from personal experience that a lot of kids who were participating in the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge had no idea what the hell they were doing besides pouring ice on each other and laughing.

And this it the ultimate folly of social media campaigns: they often don’t raise awareness about dick.

I still have no idea what the #nomakeupselfie thing was about, and while I didn’t participate in it I should have at least taken the time to get to know the issues at hand. It seems as though we – collectively, as a world – have forgotten that knowledge is power. Or we’ve somehow confused our Instagram photos and bullshit Facebook status games with knowledge and understanding.

4. Listen To Someone You Know That May Be Affected

We don’t always know people that are affected directly by the issues having to do with the campaigns we portray to support in our posts on social media.

But we all know where we could find one. We all know someone that may be, but we just haven’t taken the time to learn about them and their experiences.

I feel as though people don’t communicate with others in their lives anymore, particularly about things that matter in the world.

They don’t know enough about each other – the big stuff.

They don’t ever ask “how are you doing,” rather they sit and talk about themselves.

Unless you know every single aspect of every single person’s life, they may be affected or afflicted by one of the many causes out there on social media daily – and you could never have a clue, because you never stopped to listen. You won’t know unless you ask, or communicate, or just listen to the people around you.

The problem with social media campaigns is that it’s all about you, when you are often nothing more than a casual supporter. It isn’t quite the same as going into your community and listening to survivors of domestic abuse, or volunteering to sit with cancer patients during their treatments.  Whenever I say these things to people, they say they only have so much time in the day. Then they promptly change the subject to what happened this week on The Bachelorette, or what they’ve been doing at work lately.

There’s more to life than selfies and TV and Facebook and workplace drama. Maybe – just maybe – all these social media campaigns wouldn’t be vacuous – so empty and meaningless – if there was more of a discussion and more action behind every post.

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If I Did Everything The Internet Told Me To Do This Week

Is it just me, or is shit getting real up on Facebook these days? Maybe it’s because I’ve been “liking” more pages lately, so more of their garbage is showing up in my newsfeed. But then again, some of my friends have been putting some crazy things out there lately as well.

I think the world has gone even more insane. Funny, I didn’t know that was possible. But when I start reading articles like “Woman Has Placenta Turned Into Sunday Night Dinner,” I start to raise my eyebrow and wonder just what in the hell is going on.

Sheep

 

I’m Serving Placenta For Thanksgiving…

So that’s the big one. Well, sort of. Apparently it’s becoming a real trend now to eat your own placenta after you give birth.

Now I can do fad diets. I don’t mean that I will actually do them; I mean I can tolerate the existence of them. I can dig paleo. I kind of get the whole gluten free thing (at least for some people). I think those whole body cleanse things are dumb, but to each his own.

But eating your own placenta? I certainly didn’t see that one coming.

I guess some lady had hers turned into capsules and she took one every day for a month too. And now there are cookbooks out there for turning your placenta into a tasty meal.

Let that digest for a moment (no pun intended). …for turning your placenta into a tasty meal…

How would you even bill that to someone? Oh yeah, come over for Thanksgiving! We’re having turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, placenta, muffins. What? Did I say something strange?

And how many different recipes could there possibly be that would warrant an entire cookbook? Is it that special preparation is needed? I assumed at first that a – I don’t know – professional may have to do it, since you are eating a part of the human body and all (cough…cannibalism…cough).

In any case, I shudder to think of how many placenta varietals there are. With bleu cheese, covered in sage butter, sautéed or baked…

Vomit.

… and I’m Not Shaving My Crotch For Movember

Okay, first off: are we all familiar with Movember? It’s a movement to get people to grow out their moustaches and raise money and awareness for prostate and ball cancer. My own personal opinions about awareness campaigns aside, it does raise funding that is much needed for men’s health.

Where I draw the line is when friends start posting things about how ladies are participating by not shaving their cooters.

1. I’m pretty sure that having the vagina of a 10 year old in adulthood (i.e. completely hairless) is just a relic of the porn industry in Los Angeles. In other words, I’m saying it may be a West Coast thing.

I don’t know. This is already making me uncomfortable.

The one time my husband asked me about whether or not all women do it, I had actually never heard (before then) that women did such a thing. I mean that I had never heard before that women shave or wax all the hair off their lady bits. To this day I still cannot grapple with just why a woman over the age of – I don’t know, 12 – would even want to look like that.

But I digress.

That being said, I understand keeping the hedges under control, if you know what I mean. To that end, I get this not shaving the crotcheral area for Movember.

BUT…

2. How exactly would a woman approach her family and friends to donate money based on how much crotch hair she grows?

If it starts to dreadlock, you will donate $100 to the Movember cause.

If it grows onto the side of my legs, it’s $200…

Are you as horrified by all of this as I am?

AND FURTHER…

3. How would this raise awareness?

The whole point of Movember is that all these men are walking around with visible moustaches. Now I’m no vagina scientist, but I’m pretty sure women everywhere will not all of a sudden start flashing their cooters to show off their “Muffvember” cause. (That, by the way, is what these bitches are calling it.)

Will they wear t-shirts?

Participate in vagina walks? What does that even mean?

PLUS…

4. This is vaguely reminiscent of breast cancer awareness on Facebook. Every year, I get an email sometime in October that goes something like this:

Okay ladies! We are REALLY going to fool the guys this time!!!!!! To raise awareness of breast cancer, we are all going to post on our Facebook statuses where we throw our purses down when we get home!!! Nothing more than that though, so mine would be – On the table! The guys will have no idea what is going on!!!! So cute and really supports a good cause.

What in the actual fuck is right, if that’s what you were thinking.

And really, what in the actual fuck to just about anything I’ve seen on the Internet this week. It isn’t just the placenta eaters and the crotch trimmers that are making things online just a little bit wacky. And uncomfortable. It’s the people that post conspiracy theories. It’s the horrible beaten dogs – donate to this cause – prayer request for this animal or kid with cancer posts. It’s the full page privacy notice that went around a few days ago, as if posting some bullshit on your Facebook status will actually secure your privacy.

It’s the influx of selfies.

People of the Internet! Cut this shit out already. I just want to log onto Facebook in between classes to get my online vaginal scientist degree, while the dog eats my placenta and I trim my vaginal hairs in peace. Is that too much to ask?

To All You Jerks Looking For Something To Be Thankful For…

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In the previous two years, I’ve made it sort of a tradition to talk crap about people that do that daily thankful post on Facebook.

See post one here…

See post two here…

It always goes the same (the posts on Facebook):

Day 1

Day1

Then by a week in, Day 7

Day2

Somewhere around Thanksgiving, they’ve run out of ideas, Day 20

Day3

And finally, of course, after all this gratuitous thankfulness, December returns everything to normal

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To quote my 90s self: gag me with a spoon.

Here’s the thing about these thankful posts: if you are thankful every day of the year, that’s awesome. You don’t have to post about it on Facebook to prove it; you can if you want to. Doing it just in November for the occasion of Thanksgiving, when you can’t even come up with things that you are sincerely and unselfishly thankful for, only to turn right around and return to being a blazing, ungrateful asshole every other day of the year … well, it stinks.

What stinks even more than that is how frequently people come to my blog looking for things to be thankful for, during the month of November.

As I said before, I’ve made it sort of a tradition to talk shit about those thankful posts over the last two years on this blog. That means that over the years, the more people have read and searched out the keywords used in those posts, the higher they’ve been indexed on Google.

Translation: a lot of friggin’ people are Googling “things to post thankful on Facebook” and landing on my blog as a result.

To All You Jerks Looking For Something To Be Thankful For …

Just. Fucking. Stop. It. NOW.

If you have to Google things to be thankful for, chances are you AREN’T ACTUALLY THANKFUL FOR THOSE THINGS.

If you cannot come up with shit that is original, real, unselfish, immaterial, and sincere, chances are you SHOULDN’T BE THANKFUL FOR THOSE THINGS.

If you need a month and a holiday, and a holiday that celebrates gluttony and the slaughtering and genocide of entire nations of innocent people at that, to remind yourself that you should be even the slightest bit grateful for the things you have in your life, chances are YOU’S A DICK.

Here’s the moral: we should all be grateful for what we have, every day of the year. Even if it isn’t much. Even if it’s a lot. It could all be gone in an instant, and it is usually the self-aggrandizing November Facebook thankful posters that don’t seem to realize that. If you want to do your little tradition of posting crap on Facebook you are thankful for, fine – by all means, it is your page. But be sincere about it. Don’t post thankfulness for things like your cellphones and your unmistakable talents in whatever you seem to think you are so talented at.

And for God’s sakes, jerks of the Internet: if you have to Google it, you have some major reevaluating of your lives to do that goes well beyond just finding things to post on Facebook.