The 5 Facebook Friends You Definitely Have..

At this point, I’m not really sure why I still have Facebook at all to be honest, considering I almost exclusively use it to look at pictures of myself from high school to remember that it can always be (and definitely was) worse, watch political/social justice arguments unfold, and get meager amounts of validation from my parents. Other than that, I just keep my account out of habit, and to attempt to balance out the human garbage persona I’ve built for myself on Twitter. That being said, I’ve noticed that a lot of my Facebook friends fall into five categories, and whether you want to admit it or not, yours probably do too. So, if you’re willing to endure this BuzzFeed-esque listicle, you can find out exactly what these five types of friends are, and all the reasons they annoy the absolute shit out of me (don’t even, you knew that was going to be a part of this).

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  1. The Political ExpertEqually annoying whether they’re coming from either side, and generally very easily provoked. More than likely this is either a distant relative, or somebody you went to high school with and haven’t seen since (bonus points if it’s the parent of somebody you went to high school with). They are always right, and tend to be about as reasonable as a toddler who is being weened off of their pacifier. Usually only come out of the woodwork during an election year, or during national tragedies.
  2. The VagueBooker: There’s ALWAYS something monumentally tragic going on in the VagueBooker’s life, at least, by their own definition. Very rarely does the VagueBooker have something actually tragic occurring, such as a death in the family, loss of a job, illness, etc. the more than likely  scenario is that they have been, at best, temporarily and minorly inconvenienced. The VagueBooker really chaps my ass because they always just post things like “Really going through it right now, send good vibes please” and “Prayers” without any details (I would imagine that’s due to the fact that what they’re usually “going through” can fall into the category of “first world problems”). I get that some things are personal, but if it’s that personal, why are you posting about it on the internet at all? What is the return on my “good vibes” and “prayers” investment? There’s no such thing as a free lunch, you’re going to have to give me some details.
  3. The Oversharer: The Oversharer is the ANTITHESIS of the VagueBooker, but equally as irritating. The Oversharer tends to do things like “check in” at the doctor and find it necessary to let you know their getting a colonoscopy, post statuses like “SO DONE” that are followed up with an over detailed description of a very personal fight they’ve had with their spouse, etc. If the Oversharer in your life has children, you probably (unwillingly) know how many shits said children have taken this week.
  4. The Pedestrian: Has the overwhelming compulsion to post a new status anytime they literally do anything. You know what this person is doing every step of the way, and by noon, you are aware that they have “grabbed coffee” (and where they grabbed it), filled up their tank with gas (and what music they were listening to on the way to the gas station), and arrived at their desk (and, if you’re anything like me, rolled your eyes at their accompanying “on my grind” hashtag). The Pedestrian either doesn’t know Twitter exists, or is older and is overwhelmed by the prospect of taking on another Social Media channel (don’t worry, they’ll probably get one 3 years from now). Fun fact, my mom got a Twitter before I did and I mocked her by saying “Who the f$%& would want a social network that was just a constant stream of Facebook statuses?” the joke was definitely on me.
  5. The Wine Mom: BIG fan of inspirational quotes, puns, and slightly naughty/sassy references to their spouse, kids, and of course, wine. They joke with their friends about things like bringing White Zinfandel (which they probably refer to as “white zin”) to playdates, and love posting pictures of wine with captions like “I drink wine because the doctor said I shouldn’t keep things bottled up!” The wine mom is generally harmless, and much like your actual mother doesn’t really bug you unless she goes off on some sort of preachy tangent.

I guess I just yearn for the days when Facebook was simpler, and I had to create a fake college email as a high school freshman to be able to join. Instead, I’m now living in a time where someone was able to share a post from “Minions Quotes” that was then able to find it’s way int0 my newsfeed (without any sort of trigger warning), and, quite frankly, after that, all I really have to say is, I’ll see you in Hell, Mark  Zuckerberg.

 

That Time I Planted Crops in My Ear..

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Sometimes I have to wonder if the combination of my parent’s DNA resulted in an actual, functioning human child, or something more akin to a genetic science experiment where *something* went a little bit wrong. Everyone makes questionable choices when they’re older, but I apparently decided, I being the tiny, mom jean wearing, drunk adult pictured above, to start making them early. Allow me to elaborate further.

Out at a movie one night (The Prince of Egypt) with my dad and brother, I got bored (I guess the animated story of Moses just wasn’t really grabbing me). After bored-eating an inhumane amount of popcorn (a practice I still keep up to this day #consistency) I decided that it would be fun to stick the kernels in my ears and then dig them back out. I know, but to answer your question, no, I hadn’t accidentally/intentionally ingested any Crystal Meth. After a few successful rounds of this weird ass game, the kernel didn’t come back out. Knowing that my parent’s reaction would be less than stellar, I chose to keep this to myself, figuring that nothing “bad” could really happen from me sticking corn into my ear.

Cut to me taking a bath post movie, completely submerging my head, and successfully watering the harvest I had just planted. Not long after, s#$& started to hurt, almost like something was trying to sprout and root itself to my ear drum. I know, weird, right? I finally had to confess to my parents, and they took me to urgent care where the only thing accomplished was the doctor making my eardrum bleed. This clown concluded that my bath had “softened” the miniature replica of the “Signs” movie set I had built in the side of my head, and that it would probably just dissolve on it’s own.

Fast forward three days later (aka Christmas, can’t imagine why my parents were pissed off at me about all this) and apparently it’s harvest time, because it feels like someone is driving a tractor down my ear canal. My mom takes me to the ER where, yet again, nothing gets accomplished because anytime someone looks in the general direction of my ear (just looking, not inspecting, touching, examining, literally ) I scream like I’m being savagely beaten. They send me home, and make an appointment for me to see an ear, nose, and throat doctor two days later.

December 27th, 1997 is the day I now like to lovingly refer to as my “Exorcism Day” because apparently, the doctor at urgent care was right, my bath did soften the kernel, but instead of “dissolving” it, it just broke into pieces that were now rattling around in my head. It took four nurses to pin me down while this sadistic SOB ENT doctor shoved a camera and a vacuum down my ear, finally freeing the tiny pieces of kernel from the bastille that was my head. To the nurse I scratched and bit during my exorcism, sorry girl.

So there you have it, another tale to file away in the “But, like, Grace is actually the weirdest person I’ve ever met..” evidence box I’m sure you all keep, at least mentally. I’d also like to think that this incident is the reason I can’t really do a whole lot of math past a second/third grade level, but I’m no scientist.