Letters to the Internets

Dear Myspace,

You're dead, dude. Give it up already. 

Love,

Me

Dear Facebook,

Oh Facebook. How I hate to love you and love to hate you. 

I hate your farms and your mafias. But I love that you let me block them. It's like living in my own sanitized,  segregated neighborhood of Facebook. I'm such a Facebook bigot. Maybe I should learn to be more tolerant of farmers and mafiosos. No. Nope. Can't do it. I hate them. Fucking farms.

I hate your groups with thousand of people daring jackasses to do stupid shit. But I love that you expose so many stupid fucking people for what they are. Makes me proud to be a human.

I hate that you make me get into discussions with friends I never would have had in real life. I never wanted to know how certain friends felt about some things. I want to live in my bubble where all my friends agree with me and my opinion is the only one that matters. But passions run high on the Facecrack and pretty soon it's all, you're stupid no you're stupid no you are. And I hated the 3rd grade the first time around. 

I love you Facebook for your massive photo albums and how easy you make it to attend someone's wedding or party or vacay I wasn't invited to. It makes it easy to sit on my ass and pretend to be social. 

I hate you, Facebook, for suggesting friends from preschool I didn't even like then. If I wanted to add them as a friend, I would. But now they're all on a suggestion list, taunting me. And now they'd requested to add ME as a friend. And you're all "you have 873 friends in common" so I know they'll notice if I ignore it. And then I feel bad. I don't add them. They just go on my list of shit that makes me feel like a bad person. 

I love you Facebook, for providing hours of stalking entertainment into my friend's lives. Sometimes you make me feel shitty and inadequate. Others, I feel superior and full of the awesome. 

You're so complicated, Facebook. I don't know how to feel about you.

Love, 

Crazy Lady

Dear Twitter,

Twitter, you're the most fun of all. 

You provide hours and hours of procrastinating, sleep-depriving fun. But, I hate that you distract me so. I hate that I have to check you every five minutes or I feel like I'm missing out. 

I love your crazy tweets about moist tacos and Saskatchewan and bechamel and bacon. I love that living with you, Twitter, is like living in a secret land with its own languages and customs that no one understand until you live there. I love that you make me say things like tweep and tweet and twit. 

I hate your follow fridays. I lurve all my tweeps, so why should I spend hours worrying about forgetting someone and hurting feelings? So I boycott your #ff now, Twitter. What the hell are you gonna do about it? 

Twitter, I hate how fickle you are. You suck me in and then you throw me out. And when you do, you show me a fat fucking whale to taunt my pain. It's like getting picked last for dodge ball all over again. I know everyone is having fun in there, but here I am, all stuck on the outside. Lame sauce, Twitter, lame sauce. 

I also hate how you just can't seem to get your shit together. How many followers do I have? Huh? It shouldn't be that hard. Just count them up, stupid! Stop losing my lists and my DMs. It's like you're the most absent minded person I've ever met. I've known drunk peroxide blondes in Hollywood more put together than you. Get it together, man!

But lastly, Twitter, I love you. I love that you bring me tweeps. That because of you, I've met some totally and completely awesome sauce people. So even though you're kind of a flake, I forgive you. 

Love,

Andygirl

Dear LinkedIn,

You'll never be cool. You'll never have all the flash and dazzle or be addictive in any way at all. But you know that. And you own it. You know what you're good at. And you do it well. And that makes you totally cool. So you just keep doing what you're doing, you lone wolf you. Don't ever change.

Love,

Andrea

Dear Stumble,

I am not a dude. But something about what I "like" has made you think I'm a dude. For a while, I thought you maybe just thought I was a lesbian (which, let's face it, I am half lez), but then it confirmed it: you stumbled onto an advice page for guys to pick up girls in a bar. 

But here's the thing, stumble, even though you're wrong and I'm very much a vagina, I think it's funny. Clearly only guys like Star Wars and internet humor. Clearly. So I'm going to take this as a challenge and keep liking things I actually like, but also like things I know only dudes would like. I really want to see how you confused you get, Stumble. I want to see if you figure it out. 

So far, it seems you now think I might be a feminist male-female transvestite. Awesome! You rule, Stumble. You rule hard.

Love,

andygirl80