I’m sitting in a chair that does not support my back well staring at my Facebook home page. Not right now. I’m told that writing in the present tense helps make the reader feel more like they are there. Feeling like you’re in my shoes for this story is essential. For that sake, lets pretend this is all happening live. I’m staring at the screen (still) and looking at all of the statuses popping up. Jerry crashed his shitty car that he always takes pictures of himself with. Erica misses her long faced boyfriend. Max is grounded–again, parents can be so unfair. Janet has a song that she thinks all 873 of her friends might like. Only 2 of them do. One of them is her. I have to delete this shit.
I’ve thought about deleting my Facebook many times. I have enough time navigating it trying to figure out how to get a picture up there that I’m sure Mark Zuckerberg would make me walk barefoot through hell to delete my account. It’s pointless to have one really. I talk to five people and they all have my phone number. At least in a text message I don’t have to see your stupid picture of you on vacation. Or see you quote bad songs that I didn’t know existed. Why do I have to conform and have a Facebook page?
I don’t remember why I got one in the first place. Myspace was different. I made one because my sister had one and so did one other person I knew. I jumped on the bandwagon before a lot of people I knew. Due to self-shame, it took me a while to put up a real picture of myself. A Puerto Rican girl I liked told me that I was cute so I was no longer camera-shy. We hugged once and she showed me her butt. She has a kid now, but you could have gathered that from me saying that she was a Puerto Rican.
Myspace was great at first. I remember how exciting it was to find someone new to add to my friends list. Then I had a fan club made for me. It had about 60 members, nothing to sneeze about. Unless you’re allergic to being popular, like I was. Even a few celebrities joined. Comedians Rich Vos and John Heffron who had been on the most recent season of Last Comic Standing joined. Dat Phan was promptly banned. I remember how excited it was that you could actually talk to celebrities on that website in the early days. Comedians were my favorite to talk to, as it was around then that I began my dead-end journey to becoming the greatest standup comedian of all-time. Gregg Rogell wished me luck before my first show and Super High Me star Doug Benson told me that he was going to delete me because I posted too many bulletins. I said I would stop and we remained buddies. It’s hard to believe that this was only about 6 or 7 years ago. Shit, that’s like a third of my life. What the fuck? I wasted too much time on Myspace. Posting bulletins. Commenting on pictures. I needed something new. That’s when I moved over to Facebook.
My first Facebook I made was a fake account. You used to not be able to have one unless you had a college e-mail address. I went to a community college and they didn’t know what the Internet was, hence, no e-mail address. A friend of mine who I thought was a homosexual in 3-5th grade, then again 7th-12th, asked me if I could make an account and befriend a girl for him. I did and then he told me that it was okay. Waste of time motherfucker. Eventually for some reason I made a real account. Nobody was posting on my Myspace anymore. Celebrities wouldn’t talk to me. They were out there to promote themselves. Every hot girl I knew had a private profile. What’s the point? I figured, Facebook might be different.
I had a Facebook for a while then stopped going on it when I got really depressed. Social networking will do that to you. People post a lot of cool things that they do. You’d think they never cried or had to spend a cold night alone. I had my account deleted temporarily for a wee bit, until a black friend of mine told me that it was the best way to remain in contact with girls now. I only mention that he was a black friend so you know that I’m not racist. He’s the best black friend I have ever had and that a boy could ask for. I haven’t talked to him in a long time, but I know we could catch up in no time as we rarely spoke much about our personal lives. I never knew his real name either. That was the brilliance of him. He admitted offhandedly that I was one of his best friends and still refused to tell me what his first name was. I loved that guy!
With my Facebook account back in action, not much changed. They had a special announcement that they would be giving you your own Facebook URLs. For example, Facebook.com/MrTimBoyle is my URL, incase you’re interested in sending crude messages and seeing just how few friends I have. My boss at the comedy club I was working at the time, wanted both his name in a URL as well as another thing that he thought would get a lot of hits. Facebook blocked making any new accounts for that week so he couldn’t make a new one. He gave me a nice $100 bill to buy the rights to my Facebook page in order to get his name before any of the other 8 people with the same name as him that have Facebook accounts. I bought shoes with that $100 as well as a few other items. My shoes lasted me 2 and a half years, he hasn’t been on that Facebook account since.
I sort of had to start over with friends. I had been working at yet another comedy club a few months earlier (you’d think I’d have some awesome connections or something) and created the Facebook account for that place. I worked at the club for about a month and a half and the guy that ran it annoyed me. He was trying to get me to take a comedy class he was teaching and didn’t pay me after working 6 hours the day after Thanksgiving. I knew it was going to turn out with me getting screwed more and more so I quit and turned that Facebook page into my own. I kept some of the same friends, ones that I knew in real life and a few hot girls. Starting over wasn’t a problem because I had 60 friends beforehand. Today, over 2 years later, I have 160, give or take. I know most of them personally and don’t mind them, so I guess it’s not that bad, is it?
That’s the history of my Facebook. That’s not even what I wanted to tell you about. But I’m sitting here, one in the morning typing this up as my dog begs to go outside. He needs to learn to hold in his shit while I type. Something that bothers me about Facebook now are the people who I knew from school who add me and then don’t say anything. Why add me and not say a thing? Not even a “Hey, how are things? I’m glad to see you’re alive.” Not a one from anybody. There are 4 people I can think of that I went to school with who added me randomly, out of the blue, and have not said a word to me on there. Some of them were good friends too. I know I could say something, but I’m not the one that added you. It’s juvenile to care and it doesn’t keep me awake at night. It’s more of a crappy thing that I don’t understand. There’s no reason to be Facebook friends with somebody you’re not going to talk to. You’ve just made me a number and nothing more. What are you, the government?
I rarely see something posted on Facebook that intrigues me. Sometimes I’ll laugh at a post. I have a lot of friends who are comedians, so most of them are just depressed, not shit heads like most other human beings. Nobody posts on my page except for my friend and girlfriend. Even they don’t post often and why would they? I don’t go on more than 5 minutes a day and that’s just to see if my high school crush has added me. I bet she doesn’t even know my name. Stupid big titted cunt. I still think you’re hot even if I know you have a weird face. I like weird faces. Reminds me of the circus, another thing I like.
Not deleting my Facebook has come down to a few things:
1) An occasional message from two old friends. They message me about 3 times a year just to check up. They live too far away to ever really visit or hangout with. It’s nice to hear from them. They’ve probably forgotten how irritating I can be.
2) The possibility of networking. I know I’ll need to network seriously at some point. Having a Facebook makes it easier than phone numbers or e-mails. I mine as well keep it around until the moment comes where someone wants to raise my hopes only to shatter them via Facebook message.
3) I own a camera and have nowhere else to put the pictures. I guess I could put them on my blog now, but I hate photographers and their bad mustaches. I don’t want to become that. Some people don’t want to grow up to be their parents. I don’t want to grow up to be your friends.
And that’s about it. My three reasons that I will not delete my Facebook. It annoys me now that they don’t sound out e-mails whenever something new happens. It means that I have to log all the way in to see that nobody likes me. Maybe someday people will like me. They’ll add me and demand nude photographs. Until that day, my Facebook will remain pretty much dormant. Where the only thing I post are updates to my blog. I don’t care what anybody says, The Social Network couldn’t possibly be a good movie.
Jesse Eisenberg + Trent Reznor + Facebook = Me Watching Something Else Instead