Tag Archives: facebook

My Response to “Michael Roseberry” And His Facebook Invite to Play “Diamond Dash”

11 May

michael roseberry


Alright, Michael. Before this goes any further, I’m going to have to ask you a few questions.

1. Who the “Dash” are you, and why are you inviting me to play anything?

Michael, I am pretty 100% positively sure that we have never actually met in real life. I’m also pretty sure we’ve never actually even met online. So, I guess my first question is… Who are you? How do I “know” you? No, seriously… And, more importantly, why are you inviting me to play a game with you? Do you think that I would personally enjoy “Diamond Dash?” Upon playing your first round of “Diamond Dash,” were you suddenly stricken with the thought, “OH! You know who would just LOVE this game? That one girl I’ve never actually met, ever.” Did you think that after a few weeks of playful banter, I would be able to bring out the most competitive streaks within you, possibly resulting in the most intense round of “Diamond Dash” that this side of the Mississippi has ever seen? Because I have news for you, Mr. Roseberry. I have no intention of playing “Diamond Dash,” or any other soul-consuming, time-digesting, motivation-mangling Facebook game. Ever. I apologize for any inconvenience this may bring you.

2. Are we even friends?

Michael, just hear me out on this one, okay? I don’t EVER remember accepting your friend request, Michael. I really don’t. I’m sorry if I don’t, and I’m sorry if you were counting on me to accept your invitation to play “Diamond Dash.” I’m sorry if my declined invitation meant that you didn’t get a high score for new recruits or something. That must really suck. Especially if “Diamond Dash” gives a portion of some vague money source to a charitable cause for every new recruit that they get within a certain amount of time. I’d hate it if my declined invite meant that somewhere, a puppy didn’t have a blanket or some shit like that. That would really suck.

3. What the hell is “Diamond Dash?”

There are really only three options in my mind:

Option Number One: You are one of the Seven Dwarfs, determined to DASH into the DIAMOND mine and get out more diamonds than the other six dwarfs. Whilst doing this, you are armed with a pic axe that you can use to DASH the other dwarfs’ little brains out. To this, I would ask: Why would you think I would enjoy a virtual game that requires so much virtual labor?

Option Number Two: You are a poorly animated DIAMOND who is training for a 5K. The DIAMONDS then DASH to the finish line, and the first DIAMOND to get across the finish line then becomes the shiniest of all DIAMONDS and basks in eternal luminescent glory. To which I would respond: Why am I an animated diamond running a marathon, and why are you, Michael Roseberry, inviting me to become an animated diamond who trains to run marathons?

Option Number Three: You tell 50 recently engaged women that the ring of their dreams is available to them… But there is only one ring. One ring… to rule them all. Now, ALL OF THE FIANCES MUST DASH TO GET THE DIAMOND!!! To which I would respond by saying… Michael? I’m not engaged. I do not have my husband. (If this concept confuses you, I urge you to read my previous post, “Another Husband-less Trip To Barnes & Noble.” It may help clear some things up.)

In conclusion, Michael Roseberry, I feel like you’re just taking things way too fast. Call me old fashioned, but maybe we should just slow this down a bit. You know? I don’t think we’re at a point to where you can just send me invitations to play games with you, and have them pop up in intimate little notifications on my phone’s home screen out of no where. Talk about feeling used. You could at least buy me dinner first. Or, you know, like… Friend request me.


There’s A Special Place In Hell For People Who “Like” Sad Statuses

14 Oct

Day 34 of the 90 in 90 blog challenge.

As a writer, I like writing humorous things. I like writing funny anecdotes about my life and the people in it, in hopes of retaining my generally positive and not-so-serious outlook on life, while perhaps also hopefully brightening someone else’s day. I am not one to write about the upcoming election, human trafficking, or the shortcomings of our school systems. Those things are not funny, and honestly, they make me feel uncomfortable, at least. However, sometimes I am faced with a social issue that really affects me, deep down to the core. And I can’t help it, I have to address it in the written word. It is the only way I know how to try to make sense of these things, to me. And so, I’m going to use this blog post to really address a serious social issue, one that’s been really making me feel uncomfortable with the human population as a whole.

What is up with people “liking” terribly depressing statuses? No. Seriously. I cannot TELL you how many times I’ve gone online to find the most tear-jerking status ever recorded, and then sure enough BAM there are three jerk jockeys who “like” it. For example:

Everybody please pray for my father. He has just been diagnosed with *insert absolutely horrible disease here*, and it’s just been a really hard time for my family.
6 people like this.

Okay. Let me first, just…take this in…. (Ten second pause.)

Alright. Now that I’ve let that soak in… I just have to know who these six world class douche bags are. So, if you’re one of these people, just know that I am judging the CRAP out of you when my mouse scrolls over the “6 people like this” and your name pops up. Because… Are you serious? You LIKE this status? Oh you do? Oh really? You actually get enjoyment out of the fact that this person’s father is currently suffering, while you are currently scratching your upper thigh, drinking a beer, and “liking” statuses on Facebook? Okay. Cool. You know what? I DO hope they serve beer in hell. For your sake.

Hey facebook friends. I’m really struggling as far as my future/career direction is concerned. I could really use your prayers. Thanks.
12 people like this.

So let me get this straight… There are 12 people out there who get pleasure knowing that this person is questioning their future so deeply that they have now resorted to asking for prayers? You… like this?

But maybe I’m being too hard on people. Maybe they “like” this because they, too, are questioning their own future/career paths, and this status makes them not feel so alone. In that case, I would have to say stop being such a lazy piece of worthless lard, and type all of that into the comment box, instead of “liking” the fact that this person is struggle bussing it through their early 20’s.

This also works for changed relationship statuses. For example:

So-And-So went from “in a relationship” to “single.”
9 people like this.

Here’s the thing. I don’t even care if the newly single person “likes” it themselves. It’s still a broken relationship, and unless their ex was abusing them to the point of bodily or emotional harm, they’re probably not celebrating this. And heck! Even if they were in an abusive relationship, I bet you they’re still going to go through a time where they are sort of sad about it. PLEASE NOTE: I am in no way saying that we shouldn’t be happy about abusive relationships ending. I’m all for people being healthy and making healthy choices, and weeding out the disgustingly toxic people in their lives. I’m just saying that ALL relationships are messy, no matter how “good” or “bad” they are as a whole. And when any relationship comes to an end, there is usually a semi-depressing aftermath. The person whose changed relationship status this is, well… They’re probably going to feel a little sad at some point. They’re going to have lonely nights, sad times where they look back on the good and feel like they made the wrong choice, or that they could have been better, or done better by the other person. Let’s be honest: They probably aren’t going to go leaping through the streets, setting off confetti cannons and passing out “It’s Over” cookies, screaming “I AM COMPLETELY ALONE IN THIS WORLD!!!! WOOOO!!!!” So, in conclusion: To the 9 of you who whole-heartedly approve of this depressing grieving process, I’d like to take a moment and wish you a nice big “I hope you nine die alone in a cold, wet place.”

Rest in peace Patches. You were the best first dog a boy could ever hope for. I will miss you and love forever.
24 people like this.

WOAH!!! I didn’t realize I was living in a society that is so full of first-pet-ever haters!!! BUUUuuuuT, now that I’ve seen that 24 people are against, you know… dogs, I get it now. But hey! Maybe those 24 people were “liking” the fact that this person will “love and miss” Patches… forever. And to that I would have to say… do you scum heads realize how long forever is? This person is essentially stating that for every day that they live on this earth, a part of their heart will pine and yearn for their dead dog. Every day. And you like this fact? Okay. Cool. I hope someone drops a shovel on your bare foot… forever.

Like, I am actually convinced that if I were to write really depressing statuses, no matter if they’re true or not, there would be at LEAST three people who would “like” it. Seriously. I’m gonna try it:

I hate myself too much to go outside today.
11 people like this.

I went to college to be an artist for four years, and now I feel completely lost and ultimately confused about what I want out of my life, as a whole.
7 people like this.

I’m really self conscious of my fat arms always.
15 people like this.

Today I found out that my pet cat who “ran away” didn’t really run away. My dad found her dead in my neighbor’s bushes, and then proceeded to throw her in the woods to decompose in peace.
25 people like this.

No. No, you know what? Let’s just ALL try it. Why not!? Everyone just post something REALLY depressing, true or completely fictional (your choice), and then sit back and enjoy seeing who the sick, scum-licking joy suckers of your lives are. Then, I think you can take it from there.

But I, for one? I will be doing some SERIOUS de-friending.

Left Over Love

31 Jul

So, you’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve spent too many sleepless nights tossing and turning, replaying the best parts and obsessing over the worst. You’ve had the arguments, the make ups, the final fall out, or maybe just the flickering of a dying flame that barely has the power to illuminate their face anymore…

And you didn’t want to face it. You didn’t want to face the reality of them not being beside you the moment you drift off to sleep at night. You didn’t want to face the reality of seeing “The Dark Night Rises” with someone else. You didn’t want to wake up to a phone that just tells you the time, instead of “3 New Text Messages.” You both have finally decided that it’s time to¬† to do that big, scary concept, and finally “Be Alone.”

So it’s just like that stupid country song you heard on the radio when you were a teenager: “Take your cat, but leave my sweater… But you’ll think of me.” So you do that. You take your cat, and you leave their sweater, and you take what’s left of your heart and you brush it off and put it somewhere hidden. Somewhere safe. Somewhere you know you can get to it at any time, but still a place that will hold it without expecting it to be used for a while. And then, you do exactly what that stupid songs says. You think of them.

You leave your extra toothbrush at their place. Why wouldn’t you? You already have your own, just sitting in your own bathroom. You don’t need TWO toothbrushes in your own bathroom. You throw theirs out, because when you go in to wash your face in the morning, it’s the first crude thing that reminds you of them and you’re sick of it. You try to delete them from other aspects of your life, to make it easier on yourself. You click every little check mark next to the significant songs in your iTunes, just to make sure that they don’t start playing on shuffle and make you tear up while you’re looking at some new “love” interest’s facebook page.

You clean them right out of your kitchen. You just, sweep them right on out of there. You get rid of the four locos, the oven fries, the things they liked but you never really did but bought anyway because you knew you’d be cooking for them. And for a fleeting moment, you feel empowered. You feel a certain kind of freedom. You only have to buy what YOU want to eat, end of discussion. This makes you feel incredibly independent, healthy, and on the right track. And then you feel strikingly alone.

You do what you’re supposed to. You go out, you spend time with your friends, you take long walks and reflect on what you “learned” and what you’re “grateful” for. But at the end of the day, it’s still all there. Sure, you’ve removed them from your house. You’ve given them back their clothing, their books, CDs, keys, cups, pens, movies, blankets, and beer. But there’s still something leftover, something lingering that you can’t get rid of. Which leads me to this question: Where do we put all of the left over love?

Love isn’t a toothbrush. You can’t just throw it in the bottom of the trashcan under some tissues and clumps of hair and forget that it’s there. Left over love isn’t a cat. You can’t snuggle it and love it just because it’s an adorable kitty, and yeah, so what if you two found him together? You can still just love the cat himself because he’s a very lovable cat…. Left over love is harder than that. It comes in too many forms, too many memories, too many smells, too many places and bursts of laughter and tears cried and times spent…

So what do you do with it all?

Previous lovers can be toxic. They linger in our hearts for years, like pale green stagnant water, unmoving, still…until suddenly something happens, and it’s like a boulder has been catapulted into the water, and it lands in the murky bottom, splashing up all of this old, forgotten liquid that smears down the glass walls we’ve so delicately put up around them, in hopes of shutting them out…

It’s the feeling you get when you’re getting ready to go out on an exciting date, the one you’ve been planning for and obsessing over for weeks, and you reach into your jewelry drawer to pull out those earrings you forgot you had, and suddenly your hand wraps around the movie ticket stub you shoved in there two years ago, the night after the first time you kissed… And BAM you’re right back in his room and he’s coming towards you and your breathing is heavy and you’re sweating and you think your mouth tastes funny but it’s too late because he’s coming closer and then… And now, here it is, that movie ticket.

It’s the love letters you never deleted, the ones that you still go back and read sometimes when you’re feeling most alone.

It’s their bracelet that came off in the shower, the one you found and wrapped around your keys without them knowing. The same one you find yourself rubbing absentmindedly between your thumb and middle finger while you wait in line at the grocery store.

It’s when you’re in Wal-Mart in the deodorant section picking up your own, and before you even realize what you’re doing, you find yourself going to the Old Spice section and smelling each and every one, in hopes of remembering what their room smelled like.

It’s letting your finger hover over the “delete friend” button, but then clicking their newest photo album instead.

It’s hearing “your song” while in the car with someone else who is in the middle telling you how amazing you are, how much they like you, how they’ve never felt like this for anyone before…

So what do we DO with it all? Because if you are anything like me, you sort of enjoy this pain. Even though it hurts, you like looking back and remembering what their armpit smelled like on Sunday nights while watching True Blood. You like storing them away, like that movie ticket, deep in the back of some almost empty drawer. Because when the time comes, you want to be able to hold them in your hand. You want to be able to go back and read the beautiful words that they once penned just for you. You want to feel their love, just a whisper of it, even though their love for you is dead and gone.

And then, like clockwork, someone new will come into your life. And it will all start over again, only this time, it will be different. You’ll go to different movies, different places. You’ll have different songs and different jokes and TV shows, and you’ll buy another toothbrush and you’ll learn the scent of their deodorant and you’ll discover little things about them; Like how they dry off after a shower, if they consistently use their turn signals while driving, if they can spell “pterodactyl” without using spell check. And just when all of these little things start adding up the way it did before, just when you’re letting yourself feel safe and excited and happy again, just when you think it’s finally safe to say the three most powerful little words you’ve been putting off since them…

You find their love letter. You read an old journal. You smell someone wearing their same deodorant at the gym.

And so, I ask again: What do we do with our left over love?

I can only hope that my future loves will be kind and curteous enough to hide their “left over love” memories far, far away from my clutches. I hope that they find better hiding spots than bedside table drawers, and files labeled “Art History Term Paper” on their computers. No one wants to know that their significant other has ever felt like this before them. No one wants to face the fact that, “Hey, guess what? You’re not my first, and you may not even be my last.” No one wants to stumble upon old journal entries, old movie tickets, a foreign perfume sample paper tucked between your bank card and your license. Knowing that our loves have loved before us hurts, and knowing that a bit of their heart does not and WILL not ever belong to us, also hurts.

So, I ask again: What do we do with our left over love?

I do not know the answer. I hope that in the future, I will find the man who not only looks at my left over loves with concern, but with a graceful acceptance. I hope I can find someone who will be polite enough to hide their left over loves from me, but be honest enough to talk about them if I ask. I want to find the person who makes me feel loved and happy enough in my current state to confidently dump out that old drawer and say goodbye forever; and yet, I also want the man who will say, “Hey, wait! Don’t throw that out, that stuff was kind of important to you, right?” I want the man who will look through that drawer with me, swap stories with me, laugh about our pasts that have ultimately brought the two of us together.

And to everyone who is hoarding their left over loves in the depths of their hearts, I would say this: Never apologize for the love you once felt for someone, even if your current lover wishes you to do so. If it was real to you at one point in time, than it was just that: Real, at one point in time. Remember that every lover you take plays a part in the person who you become, and take pride and joy in that fact. Choose the people you love wisely. Do not just let anyone slink their way into your left over love drawer.

And, I would also say- Don’t be afraid to be alone. These are the times you get to drink entire bottles of wine by yourself and blog at 7:00 at night while dressed in a purple nightie with your hair wrapped in a towel like a turban. These truly are precious times and should be savored just as much as any first kiss or anniversary dinner. And some day, you will look back on these days and nights of alone time with a fond sigh and think, “Wow. I wish I had a left over love of me drawer that I could look back through…”

And then, I would say, this is what old journals are for.