Category: What’s wrong with you?

Scratchy Toilet Paper

Dear Diary …

Now I know that people are entitled to their own opinions, and that’s fine. We can always “agree to disagree” on things and still live happily ever after. That said, I do think there are some things that everybody on Earth should agree on. No argument. End of discussion.

And it’s not because I think something like “Oh MY opinion is the right opinion.” I don’t mean that. I mean that the opinion is the ONLY opinion because there is no other logical choice.

Take the movie “Birdman” for example. It’s terrible. No argument necessary because there is no counterpoint here. You can’t possibly like that movie. I don’t care what some dorky Academy says. That movie is not good.

I have a coworker that says he likes it. And there’s only two possible explanations for his claim …

1. He’s lying and he’s trying to look cool. Or …

2. Medical. He has some, like, a tumor or something and he doesn’t know it, and it’s laying on the decision-making part of his brain, and it makes him think he likes “Birdman.”

That’s it.

OK … I guess MAYBE some small group of warped people like that movie, so throw that one out and forget I said anything.

Here’s one that we should all people able to agree on … Nobody wants scratchy, uncomfortable toilet paper, right?

That one seems obvious to me that we would ALL wants a nice soft toilet paper when we’re doin’ our thing. But then, in the real world, that’s not being practices. I go out of town this weekend and I stay at my friend’s house. Now this is a grown man with a good job … He’s a father for crying out loud. And yet … scratchy ol’ Scott is the only toilet paper in his house. what is wrong with him? Does he hate himself?

Now I was willing to cut him some slack … He’s a bachelor. The only two things he had in his fridge were pickles and beer. So maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doing because his ex-wife did all the grocery shopping. Fine.

But the next night … we all stay at his brother’s house … who’s also a friend of mine. Now this guy … Family man … Wife … Nice house. His job? Scientist. I mean he’s even got the glasses. So he’s smarter than me … or so I thought. Because I use the bathroom and … hello … scratchy ol’ Scott again.

What is wrong with these people? What is wrong with anybody who buys this stuff?

And don’t play the poor card because …

1. They ain’t poor. And …

2. Even if they are, Angel Soft is like a dollar. And yeah it ain’t the best, but it’s soft. It’s in the name. Keyword: SOFT.

I mean, if you ain’t gonna treat your butt with respect, then how can you be trusted to appropriately love anything in this world?

There’s plenty of things we can disagree on all day long … politics, parenting, how to cook your steak … but scratchy toilet paper? C’mon! That’s a no-brainer!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Conversation Fishing

Dear Diary …

I’m speaking out today against fishing.

Now I don’t mean that activity where people throw a worm in a lake and try to catch a fish. I’m cool with that kind of fishing.

Granted … I don’t really like to bait a hook. Nasty little worm all wiggling around, and I definitely don’t wanna take no floppy fish of a hook. Looking at you all wide-eyed … HHHHGGGGHHHHHHGGGG … Help me! Ew.

I don’t know what is, but I just don’t like touching ‘em when they’re on the hook. I’ll take a dead fish from the grocery store and filet the whole thing myself. Rip the guts out. Not care. But when they’re all floppy and slimy and HHHHGGGGHHHHHHGGGG. Gross!

Anyway … like I said … it’s not that fishing. That’s regular fishing. I mean who doesn’t like to concept of “Sit around and drink until your food shows up on a stick?”

I’m talking about “Conversation Fishing.”

I don’t know if you noticed Diary, but we live in a desperate society where people are constantly begging for attention. Look at ME! Pay attention to ME! Follow ME on Instagram! Click like on MY Facebook post!

Facebook is far and away the worst place for conversation fishers, cuz they love to post things like “Well this day couldn’t get any worse.”

That’s it … no details … just this pathetic cry for help.

And it’s not even them I’m mad at the most, it’s you people that feed into their little egoes and say things like “Oh no … I’m here for you” … “Sending prayers.”

Stop it! Don’t encourage them! That’s what they want you to do.

“Oh I can’t really talk about it right now”

Well then don’t bring it up in the first place! And again … the rest of you are the fish. And your whiny friend just dangled the worm out there, and you opened your big ol’ fish mouth and … yoink … they hooked ya.

And it’s not just Facebook … conversation fishers will pull this crap in real conversations too.

My mother pulls it all the time. Where she’ll be sitting there, reading her emails or whatever, and then she’ll just out of nowhere say …

“Well that’s a problem”

Sigh … What’s a problem?

“Oh … since you asked …”

I did not ask! You made me ask!

Look … if you got information to share … just share it. And if you bring it up … you better share it. Facebook fishers will always pull that “Well I can’t give details right now … please respect my privacy.”

You brought it up in the first place!

My wife left me hanging in a real life conversation. She’s looking at something on her phone and does that “Hahaha! That’s funny!”

… And then nothing … just walks away

Hey … you get back in here and you tell me what’s funny!

But really the take-home here is it’s on us … the fish. We need to stop taking the bait. When our downer friends post their narcissistic little head games on Facebook … leave ‘em out there … flappin’ in the wind … like an old man’s saggy undercarriage. I apologize for the horrible imagry, but it’s the only way to get us to learn and get the fishermen to go away.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Statements That Are Never True

Dear Diary …

Today, let me present to you a segment I call “Statements That Are Never True.” These are things that lots of people say that they may THINK are true, but if you examine them at their core, are always a lie.

Here’s one … The statement “I have a funny story.”

In my experience, the person who says “I have a funny story,” delivers a funny story zero percent of the time. You wanna know why? Because humor is subjective, so it’s up to ME to decide it’s a funny story. When you tell me ahead of time it’s a funny story, I’m already trying to figure out the ways it ISN’T a funny story. Which is usually pretty easy, because people who tell funny stories don’t like to let you know ahead of time, because part of what makes them funny is to catch you off guard with the funny parts.

And while we’re on the topic of humor, the statement “I have a really good sense of humor” is always said by someone who has a terrible sense of humor. These are those losers that are easily offended by everything on Earth, and their fall back is always “I have a good sense of humor… BUUUUUUT ….” Yeah .. no buts. Either you know how to laugh at the world or you don’t. And you don’t.

Continuing on with statements that are never true …

“I don’t normally post things like this on Facebook” is always following by something really annoying that you ALWAYS post on Facebook.

“Let me just get on my soap box for a minute”

Girl … you LIVE on that soap box. I’d like you to step off it for a minute for once in your life!

Statements that aren’t true: “I’m not crazy”

Cuckoo!!!!

Then there’s “I’m smart!”

I got news for you … you’re not!

Because SMART people keep that to themselves. They want to use their intelligence to their advantage, so the less you know about it, the better their advantage. Only dodos announce it … “I’m smart!” Yeah … sure you are, doofus. You go back in your cage now and come out when the grownups are done talking.

The take home? Think before you speak. Because we all know you’re full of crap most of the time.

OK … moving on Diary …

We are right in the middle of cold and flu season. I know this, because I hear the slurping and snorting of my two children all … the … time.

Why can’t kids figure out how to blow their nose?

They just sit there … with those boogers … just hanging out in there. Gettin’ all dry and hard. And growing. Like they’re building a home with their booger wives and booger kids.

That’s love right there by the way, because when you become a parent nobody tells you you gotta pick the boogers out of a five year-old’s nose. Sure, you figure you gotta go it when they’re a baby. But five years old? Blow that snot outta there!

They just don’t know how to blow. You give ’em a tissue …

“I can’t do it!”

Blow!

Nnnngggghhhhhh

BLOW!!!!

And the boogers are the size of hamsters by the time you dig ‘em outta there.

“It hurts!”

No crap it hurts. You got a booger that’s been living in your nose for 8 days. Get that thing outta there!

Yeah … this is the stuff they don’t tell you in no “parenting book” from these so called “experts.”

(Oh … enjoy your breakfast by the way.)

Till next time Diary … I say .. Goodbye.

Crappy Toys and Book People

Dear Diary …

It seems like it was a billion years ago, but believe it or not we are still not even one month removed from Christmas. And I know we’re still in Christmas’ shadow because I see things like dusty old snowflake tins of stale fudge sitting on my kitchen counter.

Or speaking of dusty old things … the toys.

Yeah that’s right … they were glorious shiny new gifts from Santa Claus and his old lady just a few short weeks ago, but now they already look like crappy old hand-me-downs that are one step away from the yard sale bin.

So annoying. The kids get this straight up orgy of gifts … stuff they just HAD to have. And now what do they want every day? The iPad.

“Can I play the iPad?”

Santa brought you a thousand dollars worth of presents. Go play with those!

“But I wanna play the iPad!”

Why did we get them anything? I should’ve just got them 10 bucks each in the app store and called it a day.

Oh my daughter just HAD to have Ice Skating Princess Elsa. Diary, she’s played with it exactly two times, and now it’s missing an ice skate.

That’s the other thing … these toys are all cheap pieces of crap. Kids play with ‘em a handful of times and then they’re broken. Ooops …. Sor-rry … Can we go shopping at Toys R Us now? No we can not go shopping at Toys R Us now!

And let me just ask … How does anybody on Earth keep track of Legos? I swear I turn around for one second and there’s six pieces missing. Are my kids just worse than other kids? Or is it me? Am I too dumb to keep track of them?

I can’t even keep track of those big ridiculous Duplo ones. Regular tiny Legos? Forget it! But you know what Lego does have? An app. Can’t lose that!

OK … moving on Diary …

I like television. When I have some free time, I like to catch up on a show or watch a movie or whatever. Other people are book people. And that would be fine with me if book people would go ahead and keep their noses in those books, instead of constantly sticking them in the air when they’re around non-book people.

Oh you’re SOOO smart!

There’s nothing worse than being a non-book person who ends up trapped in a conversation with a couple of book people … because all they wanna do is try to prove to each other how many books they’ve read.

“Did you read Hunger Games?”

“Well yeah of course … I read all of those. But did you read Divergent?”

“Duh … I read it right after I read Wild and Factory Man, and the 50 Shades trilogy. Did you read The Fault In Our Stars?”

OK … enough with your scorecarding there bookworm!

And furthermore … You notice a pattern there in all those books I rattled off? They’re all now movies. Gloriously succinct two hour capsules of that book you spent a month reading.

I mean let’s be honest … we only have one life to live here people and we ain’t gettin’ this time back. So if I can watch nine movies in the time it takes you to read one book, I think I’m winning here.

Cuz Imaybe it’s not for you, but MY time is important. Really it’s one of the most precious things I have, and I don’t wanna waste it. And with that in mind … I’ve been making some changes.

For example … I said I was a TV guy … I’m a fan of The Bachelor. Actually, I should say I USED to be a fan of The Bachelor. Cuz I fired that show.

Why? Not because it isn’t any less saucy, salacious, or ridiculous, but because it’s too stinkin’ long.

The premiere this season was THREE HOURS. And then every week is another two hours … MINIMUM. So in a 16 episode season you’re looking at at LEAST 33 hours of this doofus and his harem of desperate skanks. This is not respecting my time!

Cuz what happens at the end of the season? They break up! So now I’ve just spent a day and a half of my life on a sham.

Now I’m no better than book people if I allow this to happen!

“Oh but the book is ALWAYS better than the movie.”

AHHHH!!! … Enough! I’ll give you a book recommendation … read a cookbook and make us all a pot roast. We’ll eat it while we watch Gone Girl in 90 minutes.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Full Voicemail and Past Lives

Dear Diary …

Today … I’m gonna do two things. First, I’m gonna school ya. And them I’m gonna ask a ridiculous question. So first … DING DING … School is in session.

If you have a telephone … so you know … everybody. Here’s a simple request.

You know how when people call you, and you don’t answer, there’s this thing called “voice mail” where they can leave you a message? Yeah … have a voice mail greeting! Oh I can’t stand it when I have to hear that robot lady “The mailbox for 8 … 4 … 9 … 2 … blah … blah … blah”

C’mon! How hard is it to just say … “Hi … leave a message?” Instead I gotta sit through robot lady … who takes forever.

Oh and the best is when you sit through all of robot lady, and then you get “The mailbox of the person you are trying to reach is full.”

Unacceptable!

I’m gonna tell you right now … When you have a full voicemail box … I immediately judge you as an incompetent waste of space. I mean … get it together man! You can’t even keep track of a voicemail box? If I was a boss … I would hire you. You can’t be trusted

Potential love interest? Hell no! You’re never gonna be reliably there for me. And don’t get mad at me I’m assuming you’re useless … You’ve done this to yourself. Clean out the stinkin’ mailbox!

Oh and here’s another phone thing … If I call you and … heaven forbid! … You don’t recognize the number … You CAN actually answer the phone like a normal person. I know … GASP! … Not everybody on Earth is in your contacts list.

And when you’re not … You get one of two things. You either get somebody who’s immediately rude and suspicious of you right away.

“Who’s this?”

Oh well hello to you too!

Which brings me to number two … where you get people who answer the phone and then don’t say anything. They just pick up the phone and ……………………………………..

The word you’re looking for is “hello” … HELL-LOOOOOOO … That’s what you say! Answer your phone like a human, and not like a conspiracy theorist who thinks the CIA is trying to climb through their phone and into their ear hole. Just say “hello.”

It’s called manners. You ain’t got none. Start having some.

OK … moving on Diary … Ridiculous question time …

This has to do with past lives. You know … the people who believe “I was 17th century Duke in a past life.”

And that’s where my question lies … Why does everybody always think they were SO important in their past lives?’

So let me get this straight … you were a Duke in one life, and a famous painter in another, and a rich business man in a third … But purely by coincidence, you just happen to be normal boring you in this current life? What happened this time, huh? You just layin’ low and takin’ this lifetime off? Just chillin’ out?

You know who’s fault it is? It’s these so-called experts that tell you who you were in a past life … they’re layin’ it on thick and telling you exactly what you wanna hear. None of ‘em ever say …

“Yeah … In a past life you worked in a factory. Yep … 9-5. Retired quietly. Died.”

or … “I see here … you were a halfway decent looking housewife. That’s it. Grandma for a little while. Then you died. The end. Five dollars please.”

I mean … SOMEBODY had to be a normal boring person in their past life, right? Can’t all be famous people … not enough of ‘em to go around.

And I don’t know about you, but I demand answers to this ridiculous question!

Till next time Diary … I say, goodbye.

Gifts That Aren’t Gifts

Dear Diary …

Since it’s the holiday season, and people are giving gifts to one another … I thought I would help you out with some some gift-giving guidelines. First and foremost … when giving a gift to someone, make sure it’s something they actually want or like.

And when you hear me say this, I know you think “Well that’s obvious!” But I’m here to tell you … this happens ALL the time. Like take yesterday on the show for example … I was given a special gift by my jerkbag co-workers of something I didn’t want or like. Not only that, it was the “gift” of an embarrassing moment in my life that causes me great pain to re-live that moment in time. Wow … What a great gift … the gift of pain! Thank you SO much for that!

But that’s just an isolated incident … stuff like this happens all the time. My whole life my mother has been giving me gifts and rewards that aren’t actually gifts or rewards.

Like last time she was in town visitng, when she let me know “I’m going to let YOU back up my car for me.”

[[GASP]] You are? What a great present! WOO-HOO!!! Thank you so much for letting me do that.

When I was a kid she’d say “I saved the dishes for you.” Boy I must be on Santa’s nice list to have been bestowed upon such an amazing honor!

These are not gifts or special surprises! “I saved you $100 at the grocery store” … That’s a gift. “Hey you sit there and relax while I wash the dishes” … That’s a special surprise! Stop trying to pass off your lousy chores and crappy pranks as actual presents. Cuz if there’s a choice … I pick coal. (At least I can heat my house with it.)

OK … moving on Diary …

I’d like to ask the ladies out there a question … When we men call you, why do you NEVER ever answer the phone? To be fair … I should clarify … you never answer the phone when we actually need something. If we’re calling for no particular reason, you’re available on a half a ring, but if we’re at the grocery store and have a question about something … you are nowhere to be found.

This goes back again to the last time my mother was in town … and she and my wife were home while I went to the grocery store. Fast forward to me … who realizes he forgot to check and see if we needed milk. So I call my wife. No answer. Remember … I just left her 10 minutes ago … sitting there. I call again. No answer. Again. No answer. So I move over to my mother … Who reminder is also just … sitting there. And I get nothin’.

Six calls … two people … just sittin’ there … no answer.

Why do you ladies do this? Is this fun for you making me play Milk Mysteries at the grocery store?

It’s a good thing all it was was a question about milk. What if I was held at gunpoint and the gunman said … “Get your wife or mother on the right phone or I’m gonna shoot you in the face!”

I’m dead!

Oh and as every man know … your woman DOES eventually call you back, five seconds after it’s too late and whatever you needed is now over with. I’m tellin’ ya … I think they know. Some kind of spyware device on my phone … and they’re watching, listening, and laughing it up over there.

Hope you had your fun ladies!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Shorts People

Dear Diary …

There’s a slight chill in the air. OK … whatever … let’s call it like it is … it’s COLD! Cuz it’s winter! No chill. Straight up cold. Now cold weather isn’t exactly my favorite, but it is what it is, so that doesn’t really bother me. Just throw on a jacket … maybe some gloves … go on with your day. A-ha … But that’s where a certain breed of people come waltzin’ on in … shorts people.

These are the people where … even if it’s cold out … they continue to wear shorts. And if you wanna do that, and wear shorts all year long … I got no problem with that. But would you be quiet about it? Everybody that wears shorts in the winter … you know who they are, because they’re always reminding you that they wear shorts in the winter.

“Hey … looks like we might get snow this weekend.”

“Snow? I wear shorts in the winter. A little snow won’t scare ME! Look at ME! I’m shoveling snow, and I’m wearing SHORTS!”

Yay … good for you. You love cold legs, or you have some sort of genetic mutation and you have an extra layer of whale blubber that makes you impervious to the cold. Either way … I don’t care. Yes … I know you wear shorts in the winter. I see you wearing shorts in the winter. Congratulations on wearing shorts in the winter. What do you want, a trophy?

And Diary … just by bringing this up, I know I’m screwed now. Rest of my life … I’m gonna run into people who wear shorts in the winter, and they are gonna let me know that they wear shorts in the winter, simply because I brought this up. The sacrifices I make for you!

Anyway … moving on Diary …

Can you explain to me why some things that should be SO simple, gotta be so difficult? Like with my phone … and that autocorrect thing. You know … where it fixes the words you spell wrong. Not only that … it learns certain words and names that you use, and will correct those as well. And most of the time, it’s pretty good, but God forbid one time you accidentally cancel out the autocorrect and allow the misspelled word to sneak in to your dictionary. It’s all over!

Autocorrect learns it forever … and the next thing you know you’re busy typing the word “sonething” for the rest of your life. No more “something” for me, Diary. My phone thinks I wanna talk about “sonething” instead. And the word “them?” Gone! Apparently I prefer the word “thrm.” Hey have you heard from thrm lately? Man I haven’t seen thrm in a while.

And you’d think there would be a simple fix for this … You just go in and delete the word out of the list. Yeah … you can’t do that. You can either delete all of them, or just suffer silently. Cuz iPhone doesn’t give you the option to delete just one of them.

And yes … I know … you do have that option on an Android phone. “Love my Droid!” Those people are quick to point that one out, cuz they are even louder than Mr. I Wear Shorts In the Wintertime. Love my Droid!

I can’t even IMAGINE having to put up with people who wear shorts in the winter AND own an android phone. They must be exhausting to be around. How do they even have time to talk about anything else?

“I wear shorts in the winter! Love my Droid! Shorts in the winter! Love my Droid! Shorts in the winter! Love my Droid!”

And if they do Crossfit? Ugh … it’s all over now.

Till next time Diary … I say …. Goodbye.

Jacked Up Xmas Songs

Dear Diary …

Now you know me … I got big time Christmas spirit. Holiday cheer oozes out my yule log for about two months leading up to the big day. Big fan of Jesus’ birthday … and also a big fan of the Christmas music. I’m a connoisseur if you will, with an appreciation for all manner for Christmas tunes.

And I do enjoy them for what they are, but I also gotta be honest … Some of these songs are ridiculous. Take the Perry Como classic …

There’s no place like hooome …. for the holidaaaayyyys …

Well we’re gonna agree to disagree on this one, Perry. I mean, there’s no place like MY home for the holidays, but you and your travelling all over God’s creation just for a piece of “homemade pumpkin pie” ain’t nobody’s idea of the perfect way to spend Christmas.

Listen to this nut, “Gee … the traffic is terrific!” … What is wrong with him? I think he’s been stuck IN traffic for hours and the dude has lost his mind! This is nobody’s idea of fun during their time off from work, piling their entire crazy family in the car, and then fighting every lunatic on the roads or the airport or whatever …

And then when you get there, what is your reward? You get to cram into a random room in a tiny house that doesn’t have enough beds for all the people in it, that you’re related to, but barely like.

Diary, you know where I’m sleeping this Christmas? I don’t! Cuz we’re going to my mother-in-law’s house where there’s only one extra bed and three visiting couples and we all have two kids apiece. Hey kids … enjoy the floor!

Home for the Holidays … you lunatic.

Next up, what about the classic “Winter Wonderland?”

On the surface you think … ahhh … the picturesque scenes of winter … so lovely. But have you paid attention to the lyrics?

As best I can understand, there’s a bunch of chicks in a field, and they build a snowman, and then they pretend it’s the snowman is some guy named Parson Brown. Now I don’t know this Parson Brown, but he must be like the Channing Tatum of this place, because when he sees the ladies he says “Are ya married?” and they say “No man … but you can do the job when you’re in town”

So that makes them his “hoes in different area codes” then, right? We’re not married, but we’ll all do ya tonight while you’re breezing thru town. Buncha skanky groupies!

And then the ladies go inside… to conspire … as they dream … by the fire. To face unafraid … the plans that we’ve made. So they don’t even regret their dirty little orgy they just had with this Parson Brown!

What is going on in this town? And furthermore … where are these hoochies so the rest of us can be all “Yeah … uhhh … I’m Parson Brown … how you ladies doin?” That is a filthy Christmas song!

OK finally Diary … Happy Christmas … War Is Over. What a lovely message … totally ruined by Yoko Ono’s terrible warbling. Boy she really did break up the Beatles, didn’t she? And every year, her “Waaaaarrrr issssss oooovvvvaaaaaaa” just grates on my eardrums just a little bit more.

Who knew that is was possible to hear something that made you wish for the Celine Dion version of ANYTHING?

“Waaaaarrrr issssss oooovvvvaaaaaaa” You’re right it is over … we surrender!!!! Stop! Oh it hurts.

Where’s the calm, quiet tunes of “White Christmas” when you need it?

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

No Friday Meetings and Your Elf on a Shelf

Dear Diary …

I often talk about how when I become King and Supreme Leader of Zackmerica, there will be TONS of new laws that will go into effect. Well today, I have one that I want to add. But you know what? We don’t even have to wait until King Zack is in charge. Start doing this law IMMEDIATELY!

And here it is … No meetings on Fridays. NONE. EVER! No exceptions and no substitutions!

First of all … let’s just stop lying to ourselves and all admit the truth … nobody works hard on Fridays. OK, you might work hard, but you still work hardER on other days. Case in point? You know what day of the week has the most botched surgeries? Friday! Now that should tell you something. That no matter how important your job is … surgeon for crying out loud … You’re still just a human that wants to kick back and enjoy the freakin’ weekend and you’re not working as hard as you do on Wednesday.

Second … And here’s the real reason why Friday meetings are banned … Your lazy butt had ALL week to get this stuff done, and now all of a sudden you realize “Oh no … it’s Friday and I haven’t done anything all week … I need to have a meeting!”

Oh no … I ain’t gettin’ you off the hook any more there, slacker!

“But it’s important!”

Too bad!

If it was that important, you should’ve gotten your stuff together earlier in the week.

Friday meeting. You ever notice too how they never give you a heads up either? They just come in on Friday … “Hey we need to have a meeting … right now. Meeting … Come on. Conference room.”

Oh awesome! As if I’m just sitting here … doing nothing … thinking to myself “Boy I hope we have a meeting right now so I can have something to do, cuz I was just sitting here doing nothing.”

No more. And I’m drawing a hard line. No slap on the wrist. Cuz then you’ll never learn. So it’s very simple … You call a Friday meeting … Life in prison. Next!

OK … moving on Diary … Like it or not … the holiday season is here. I for one … like it. That said, let me go ahead and just give everybody out there on Facebook a warning … Nobody wants to see pictures of where your Elf on a Shelf ended up last night.

“Oh look at that naughty Elf … he ate all the marshmallows!”

Don’t care!!!

Hey … if that creepy little Elf makes your kids behave at Christmas time. That’s great. That what Cherry Sparkles … yes that’s our Elf … Cherry Sparkles (I know … I didn’t pick the name) … but that’s what she does. So I like her for that, but I don’t need to be punishing the rest of the world with a running newsfeed of all the silly Pinterest-inspired mischief that my Elf was up to last night.

Keep you Elf to yourself! Oooh … that’s catchy! Zack Jackson, you stayed up late comin’ up with THAT piece of comedic gold!

No but seriously … we don’t wanna see your dumb Elf. Stop it.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

3 Things You Do On Facebook That Make People Hate You

Dear Diary …

I’m all about the helping … I give till it hurts. And today … oh it’s gonna hurt. You. But it’s good pain, like “feel the burn” exercise pain. You’re gonna feel better in the long run when I help fix you.

Now there’s all kinds of people in this world that call themselves “Social Media Experts.” They come up for a name for their company (that’s just them), and they print out some businesses cards, and then charge businesses to sit down and teach them “How To Post on Facebook.” Then they charge ‘em like a thousand dollars and move on to the hosting a seminar called “Tweet Your Way to Social Media Engagement” or whatever the blah blah blah it is that they do.

But you know what? You’re not a business, and you don’t have a thousand dollars. AND … I fancy myself as a bit of an expert, so I’m gonna give you some advice to make you better at Facebook. For free!

Today’s lesson is called … “Three Things You Do On Facebook That Make People Not Like You.’

Obviously the message here of all this is … “Stop doing those things and people won’t hate you so much.”

OK … class in session.

The first thing you do on Facebook that makes people not like you is what I call “The Play By Player” … This is the person who sits down to watch a sporting event, and also feels the need to post something about every single detail of said sporting event ALL GAME LONG.

I also call you “Facebook Ebola,” because you’re just a virus that takes over my feed … pushing everything else out of the way and instead infecting me with nothing but posts like “That was holding!” and “First Down … Tes!”

How am I supposed to even respond to these things? I had one in my feed on football Sunday this week that just said “Dang!” What was the context of this “dang?” … Dang good? Dang bad? And since I don’t see everything real time … when was this dang? An hour ago?

So you see where this is useless blathering that noone knows what to do with?

And here’s the kicker … there are plenty of social media sites where this is exactly what they want you to do. There’s probably even other people watching the same game as you. So now you can say things like “That was holding!” and they can say “I know … It was holding! HTTR! HTTR!!”

Do it there! You’re doing it in the total wrong place and you’re gummin’ up the works for the rest of us.

OK … let’s move on to the second thing you do on Facebook that makes people not like you … I call this “Pathetic Ol’ Me.” You’re the one who spends all your time posting sad and whiny things, and we … your friends … we don’t know how to react.

Here’s one I just saw …

“I have the worst headache of my life today.”

Ummmmmmm …. Like?

How does anyone respond to this? It’s just … there.

Here’s my advice to “Pathetic Ol’ Me” … Pretend you’re having an actual conversation with real live humans …

“Hey Bill … how are you?”

“Terrible! My head is literally going to explode from all the mucus buildup in my sinuses!”

NO! You would not say that! And if you would actually say that … then don’t talk to real live humans!

Point is … quit being so darn depressing all the time. You’re bringin’ the rest of us down!

What happened to the good ol’ days when people hid all their problems and ailments and pains and lied to the world and pretended things were great? I miss THOSE days!

Finally … the third thing you do on Facebook that makes people not like you is what I call “Robot Parent” … because you are no longer you … You are just some robot that [[[Robot voice]]] “Only posts about my children. Nothing about myself because I don’t exist.”

You don’t even have a profile picture of yourself anymore. Instead it’s your kid wearing a funny hat.

What are you, dead? Can’t you be a parent AND an individual at the same time?

The answer by the way is “YES”

And we … your friends … we miss you. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not really friends with any five year olds. They can’t even get into bars … what good is that? I like being friends with grownups. That’s why I’m friends with growups on Facebook and not children.

Of course you can share pictures and details about your kids. But we also want you to be you, not some robot that used to be you. It
It’s called “balance.” Have some!

OK … lesson over. Now stop doing these things so we can all like you more.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.