Tag Archives: stupid

Stupid, stupid, dumb, stupid Facebook

I just got an email from Facebook. It was like, “Hey Rob, in a few days from now, we’re going to be removing messages from the Facebook mobile app. If you want to continue to send messages via Facebook, you’re going to have to download our new Facebook Messenger app. Yeah, that one, the one that you’ve been ignoring ever since we started bombarding you with advertisements a few months ago every time you opened up the Facebook app. It’s just that, well, we really want you to have two Facebook apps. It’s better for us if, instead of just one Facebook app, you have to download a separate Facebook app just for Facebook messages. So yeah, thanks again for using Facebook.”


Hey Facebook, it’s not like you’re going to read this, and it’s not like I even want you to read it, because Facebook (I’m talking combined mobile and desktop usage here) makes up approximately .000000000000000012% of my life. So go ahead, take away messages. I’m not downloading your stupid Facebook Messenger app. You don’t think I have anything better to do that to switch between two separate Facebook apps? You’re grossly overestimating how much of a role Facebook plays in my life here.

Why don’t you make a separate photo app too? That would be so great. Like, take away the ability to look at photos on the regular Facebook app, and make it so we have to open up a separate app just to look at photos. And then make another one just for statuses. And the statuses could only be a certain amount of characters. And you could use hashtags. And you could call it Twitter.

And then you could make a separate app that only sends me invites from random kids that I went to grammar school with who really want me to play Farmville or Candy Crush Saga. I’ll log onto this app, it’ll say, “Hey Rob, this guy that you met one time two years ago when you went to that Phish concert with your cousin wants you to play Candy Crush with him. Yes?” And I’ll click, no, always no, and that’ll be the whole point of the app, a centralized service where I can reject invites to online games from strangers.

And why are you even asking for my permission? Just install an app on my phone that automatically installs all future Facebook apps. I’ll swipe my phone on one day and it’ll be the new Facebook phone operating system. Instead of my contact list, there’ll be a Facebook contact list, only pulling up people’s Facebook profiles. Everything will be Facebook blue and there won’t be any option to change it.

I’m not downloading your stupid, stupid, dumb, stupid Messenger app, OK Facebook? Go ahead and take away messaging from the Facebook app, because nobody cares, because nobody uses Facebook messages. If I ever need to send a message to somebody, it’s either going to be via text message or email, not Facebook. Absolutely, definitely, most assuredly not if I have to download another app. Goodbye forever. Remember when you tried to get me to forward all of my emails to that new @facebook.com email address that you set up for me? I didn’t use that once either, and that program was a big bust, I would have forgotten about it completely if it hadn’t been for that email you sent me a month or so ago, “Hey Rob, we’re canceling the whole @facebook.com email address program. It turns out that nobody used it, never, not even once.”

Do you guys have like meetings? Do you ever sit around the conference table and think, will people like this shit? Is this something that Facebook users are going to do? Do we want to be relevant at all? Because I’m not getting that sense, that you’re trying, that you want people to want to use Facebook. I’m feeling less and less that way every day.

Four extra-large sodas

And I was like, “Just try to stay out of my way, OK?” which, yeah, it sounded a lot cooler in my head, I was going for the whole, “I got this,” or at a more basic level, “Don’t worry, don’t have any doubts in me,” but it came out the way it came out, arrogant, dismissive. It was too late for an apology, it would have killed the momentum, totally destroyed whatever we’d already set up for ourselves, the mood, the false determination.


A week earlier, my friend Rich had showed me this video online of two guys ordering four extra-large sodas at a drive-thru, and right as the cashier handed them their drinks, the driver threw the oversized containers back through the window. All you heard was the scream, she must have gotten soaked, followed by the crazy laughter of the two guys in the car as it sped away.

I remember laughing so hard at that video, the insane kind of funny that, looking back now, I’d never laugh, I’d never let myself. It’s too mean. I’d feel automatically too bad for that woman, she probably hates her job, or maybe she doesn’t hate her job, maybe it’s just me, I hate my job and I assume everybody else hates their job also. Maybe she’s happy. But she’s working the window at the drive through, she gets out the XL cups, fills them all up.

And then what does her boss say? The manager hears the spill, he looks up and the window-girl is doused in soda, there’s a mess everywhere. Did the computer get wet? What about the register? Did the soda make it to the cash? It’s everywhere. She feels bad, like even though everyone says they believe her, she’s worried some of them might suspect she’s making it all up. Because seriously, who would do something like this? And why?

But back when I was seventeen, when I finally had a car, independence, those were things I wasn’t focusing on, the who, the why. My whole world was all of the sudden open and new, I got such a crazy thrill out of anything I hadn’t been exposed to before. And this act summed up everything that I wanted in life at that moment, the ability to look around at the most mundane of situations and still be thrown for a total loop, like nothing applies anymore, everything you thought you knew, forget it.

I think Rich might have suggested we try it out also, or maybe he didn’t directly suggest it, but he said something like, “We would never do something like that,” just something to say, but I took it as this personal challenge, I was like, “Well, I would do that,” not even thinking about how this was already escalating dangerously. “No way, you would never do that,” so now here I was, Rich had thrust all responsibility my way, now this was my joke, my prank, my wild act to either carry out or chicken out of.

So we went to Taco Bell. My euphoria had definitely dwindled down into something else, an anxiety, my heart was still racing but I could tell that there was a part of me I wasn’t willing to yet consciously acknowledge that told me this was a stupid idea. And again, I wasn’t emotionally mature enough to be thinking about anybody else besides myself. I was purely concerned with what if we get in trouble, what if my parents have to get involved?

And Rich, he was pretty nervous too, but it was a carefree worry, like settling in to watch a really scary movie. Sure, he’d be along for whatever ride this turned out to be, but at the end of the day, he could always shrug and be like, I don’t know why Rob threw those sodas. I had nothing to do with it.

I pulled up to the drive-thru, I ordered four extra large Baja Blast Mountain Dews, and as we turned the corner to the window, we both kind of giggled a little bit. It was happening. The sodas had been ordered. Maybe this would be easier than the mental struggle I was setting up for myself here. Maybe all I had to do was throw and drive, and then I could laugh and laugh and laugh.

But we pulled up, and it’s this big dude, he’s passing me the sodas, telling me how much they cost. I didn’t even look at Rich, I just took out a ten, gave it to the guy, took the change, and left. Rich started laughing, I guess I deserved it, I guess he had to make fun of me, I mean, I was the one behind the wheel.

And looking back, I have that whole justification, the putting myself in the other person’s shoes, the realization that people shouldn’t go around throwing sodas at each other. But I still cringe, I still get pissed, like why wasn’t I thinking? Why did I sit there and let Rich make fun of me for the rest of the night? Why didn’t he offer me even a dollar for one of those sodas? Man, I haven’t seen my old friend Rich in forever. I wonder what he’s up to right now.

These stupid goddamn idiot stupid morons

I just hate it when people cut me off in traffic. That’s so stupid. They’re so stupid. I’m trying to drive too. And now they’re in front of me. Stupid idiots. And then they start driving really slow. That’s stupid also. Like get out of my way, man, so stupid.

You know what’s really stupid? Hopscotch. Hopscotch is so stupid. Oh wow look at me, I’m a little kid, drawing some stupid boxes with chalk. Oh and I don’t even know how to make all the boxes the same size, because I’m such an idiot. And then I’m going to take turns with my idiot friends and we’re going to throw a bunch of stupid rocks over and over again. And we’re all going to look so stupid, just hopping around. Hop, I get it. Everyone’s hopping. But scotch? It doesn’t have anything to do with scotch. What a stupid name, hopscotch.

I would always try and run up to those idiot little kids and push them over while they hopping around, pushing them right out of those stupid little boxes. Or I would just stand right in the middle of the hopscotch board. “Go ahead and try something,” I’d say, “you stupid idiots.” And some of those idiot kids would start crying and screaming, running away to go tell the teacher on me. But my teachers were all such idiots, such morons. I’d just throw my hands in the air and say stuff like, “What? Come on! I didn’t! No! That’s not true!” and the teacher was so stupid, eventually she’d just be like, “OK now, enough! All of you!” Ha! All of us. Including those idiot babies playing stupid hopscotch.

The other day I went to go get a sandwich at the deli. I told that stupid deli guy, “No lettuce or tomato! I hate lettuce and tomato! OK? Got it?” Do you know what that stupid moron deli guy did? That idiot, you know what he put on my sandwich? Lettuce and tomato. That idiot! I said, “No lettuce or tomato!” and what does he put on my sandwich? Both of them. That stupid moron idiot stupid deli guy. What kind of an idiot puts lettuce and tomato on a sandwich when I clearly said, “Hey! You! I want a sandwich, but I don’t want any lettuce or tomato! Hello? Hello? No lettuce or tomato! Do you understand me? Does this guy understand me? No! Lettuce! Or! Tomato!” I don’t know why that stupid deli has to go and hire the stupidest idiots to work at their deli section. Jesus Christ, it’s a sandwich, and I told him over and over again not to put any lettuce or tomato on it. That moron. What an idiot.

You know what else I just can’t stand? These idiot people around my neighborhood that keep walking their stupid dogs in front of my house. Keep your flea infested mutt away from my house. Walk on the other side, you idiot. I always just stay by my front door and I say as loud as I can whenever a dog walker walks his smelly dog in front of my house, stuff like, “Stupid dogs! I hate dogs! Get that flea ridden mutt away from my property! You goddamn nuisances!”

Or these stupid leaves. Every fall that stupid tree in front of my house starts losing its stupid leaves. What an idiot tree. I’m telling you, what kind of a tree keeps losing its leaves every single year? Come on! And one by one, right in front of my house. So I have to go out there with some stupid rake and I have to start raking these stupid leaves, and then when I’m done, that idiot tree is at it again, shaking in the wind, dropping leaves everywhere.

That reminds me. Did I tell you about that idiot sandwich guy yet? Please don’t even get me started. If you went to a deli and ordered a sandwich, and you told that idiot deli guy over and over and over and over again, “Hey buddy! Did you put any lettuce or tomato on that sandwich? Hello? What is that? Is that lettuce? What about that over there, is that lettuce? Lift that up. Lift it up so I can see if there’s any lettuce or tomato under there,” what would you expect to find when you opened up that sandwich? I bet you it wouldn’t be lettuce or tomato. And what if you saw lettuce and tomato, not just one, but both, both lettuce and tomato? Wouldn’t you feel like an idiot? Wouldn’t you feel like that no good idiot goddamn stupid goddamn deli guy was just so stupid, the stupidest deli guy in the word, can’t even figure out how to not put lettuce and tomato on a goddamn sandwich? I’m telling you, this guy, I almost feel bad for him, for how stupid he is. I should have just made my own sandwich. Goddamn lettuce and goddamn stupid tomato.