We think you're a joke.

Before I go on, let me start by stating that I was indeed born pessimistic. In my head, I have always pictured my birth being lightning stricken. As if for some reason, God was giving out high fives for having succeeded in getting this stubborn, hairy little critter out of heaven. Along with my excellent command in negative thinking, I was also bestowed with the gift of effectively spreading it. And so without much ado, here I am once again, annoyed and determined to pass it on to anyone willing to read on. If you were having a crappy day, well then let's do "What up?" Barney Stinson style but if otherwise, then I suggest you go back to discretely stalking people on Facebook.  

Over time I have managed to master the art of tasteful bashing and what gets on my Twinkie, this time, is the impeccable openness and pretension that a third of the population are quick to publicize. It's bad enough to overhear tall tales coming from the aged on occasions and/or under the influence of alcohol (for Charlie Sheen, narcotics) but to see it oh so readily available for the masses to witness, is worthy of a Nobel Prize for Intolerability.

Putting it blatantly, no one really cares. With the exception of sincere (I cringe because even that, I doubt.) family and friends, majority of those checking you out are just curious and your ready display makes you an all too easy target for ridicule and the laughing stock of weekly drinking sessions. Yes, we know you are well traveled, well fed and well dressed. You made your point the first time and again and again and again. 

I write to inform and to make the concerned public aware of the extent of life (if you have one) sharing with the world. A photo kissing your average looking girl is fine but to be in extra large collage form. Please. We know what tongues look like. Speaking for a good number, we also respect the fact that you are probably cuckoo in love and what not, but we don't really need to read the exchange of messages that are borderline text sex. And the snide bitchy comments being broadcast when you find yourself faced with an adversary equally bored (Come on now, seriously?), a word of advice: if the red line under the word you managed to cough out is still there, you aren't smarter than a fifth grader.

I don't like being mean if I can help it, contrary to belief upon reading the above paragraphs, but do everyone a favor, yourself included and keep some things on the down low. Then again if you do enjoy the attention, let me do a slow clap while standing up. I admire your bravery and evident facial thickness. Continue on, for you provide Jerry Springer-esque entertainment to your 2000 something followers. 

As for me, I am thankful for the brilliant advent of the "Unsubscribe from..." button. Kudos, social media! Now, that makes me think... Why didn't I come up with that?