Archive for category Life

5 Facebook crimes and their punishments

I’m addicted to facebook, I will openly admit that I have a problem. Not a single hour passes that I don’t check my notifications and have a quick flick through my news feed. It’s gotten so bad that on more than one occasion I’ve been online on my laptop and I’ve opened my phone to check my facebook…it’s not even a conscious decision I make any more. It just happens. And that doesn’t concern in the slightest.

Being on facebook all the time I’ve noticed some pretty…irritating things (I really don’t mean irritating, I mean frustrating to the point where I want to turn most of my friends list into a list of people that if I meet in public I’d want to throw faeces at, not even my faeces. That’s how annoying they are, I’d be willing to throw other people’s shit at them).

There are too many things to mention that annoy me so I’m going to focus on the ones that make me particularly shit slinging crazy.

 Facebook Crime no.1

The Facebook crime: 1,000,000 “likes” to save this baby’s life

These photos really boil my piss (that’s a thing right? Boiling piss?). Usually a photo of a dying baby/puppy/someone with no shoes and the equally annoying, “1,000,000 likes and this baby will get a life saving operation.”

What I find hilarious about these posts is imaging a back alley surgeon with some ridiculous sexual innuendo name in scrubs and a face mask, latex gloves on all watching their facebook notifications.

How that conversation would go.

Baby’s mother: Please doctor, save my baby he doesn’t look like he’s going to make it.

Nurse: She’s right doctor Goodloving his vitals are dropping.

Doctor Goodloving: I can’t goddamit! I just can’t! I’ve only got 999,999 “likes”. Until someone else likes “this” photo there’s no way I can even attempt to save this childs life…it’s in facebook’s hands now.

What annoys me is that some people genuinely seem to believe that sharing these photos will save a child’s life. For one thing when you share a photo the likes you get on that wouldn’t even count towards the likes on the original post, how would they even keep track of it all? Because really, that’s the most unrealistic thing about this.

The Facebook Punishment: Their feed should be inundated with a constant stream of pictures of mistreated animals and when they don’t get the amount of likes they need they should then be sent a photo of that animal being drowned.

 Facebook Crime no.2

The Facebook Crime: taking a “selfie” in a nightclub bathroom.

Facebook is a popularity competition. There is no question about that. It’s not a way to keep in touch with people. It’s way for people who are desperate for attention to scream “LOOK AT ME!!” without running up to random people street on the street and shoving a photo album of themselves into their face…maybe that’s why it’s called facebook??

Anyway, apart from being some usually good creeping material, bathroom selfies are awful. The entire concept of it confuses me…why would you take a picture of yourself in the bathroom? You know that behind them stall doors in the background there’s somebody literally shitting themselves right? Duck faces are in abundance in these photos (or ironic duckfaces, which in a way are even more annoying.)

The conversation where it all began

Annoying d4 girl with massive hair number 1: Hey girls, I think we should like totally take some like pictures of like ourselves in the bathroom.

Annoying d4 girl number with massive hair 2: Like why the fock would we do that?

Annoying d4 girl with massive hair number 1: Because like, we look so focking hot in that mirror.

Annoying d4 girl with massive hair number 2: Oh my god yeah like totes, it isn’t creepy that people are doing lines of coke and having a piss in the stalls behind us at all.

Bathroom attendant: Kill me now.

Surely there are plenty of better places to take photos of yourself? Literally anywhere? Beside a dumpster, in a gutter, in a crackden…anywhere! Or…a better idea, actually have a good time instead of spending the whole night taking pics and pretending to the world that you’re not actually dead inside.

The Facebook punishment: Everytime they go to the bathroom have a photo of them instantly uploaded to their news feeds and sent to all their loved ones…get a look at what’s going on behind the stall doors.

Facebook Crime no.3

The Facebook crime: Vague, passive-aggressive status updates.

“Some people just need to keep their nose out of my business and leave me alone ugh.”

If I need to explain why these posts are annoying then you should leave my blog right now because I never, ever want you to read anything I ever write again. Why post a status about one person, without mentioning that one person, when there’s a chance that said person might never even see the post?

But worse than the actual post are the comments underneath it.

“hope you’re ok hun, keep the chin up xx”

Go shoot yourself.

Or when someone asks what’s wrong and the reply is “don’t want to talk about it.” Oh really? You don’t want to talk about it? Then how about not actually talking about it? I get that you might want to vent. I get that you might be upset. What I don’t get is why tell all everybody you’ve ever met about it? Shockingly enough ( I know from my own experience) nobody actually cares.

The Facebook punishment: They should be fraped and have the settings on their account changed so that nobody can see their posts and slowly go insane while they wonder why nobody likes their posts any more.

Facebook Crime no.4

The Facebook crime: Having a conversation on a post with someone that isn’t the poster about a topic completely unrelated to the post.

Picture this. You’ve just posted a status that you think is hilarious (of course you do, everything you post is hilarious, you hilarious facebooker you.)  A post that you feel will get you a solid amount of likes, I’m talking 30, maybe 40 likes here. Nothing sensational like when you announce you’re sexual organs work and you’re going to have a baby (more on that in a minute) but more like a funny and original joke that people will get.

You get a few likes, a few “lolz” are commented, it’s going well. Then somebody comments “haha you’re so funny Ben, you’re the sexiest person ever, come here and impregnate me immediately,” (that may or may not have been an actual comment on a status of mine) the next comment is a reply to that comment from someone else. And just like that, your post is dead. Nobody will comment on it any more because they don’t want to interrupt the completely irrelevant conversation that these two people are having on your post.

Like I said earlier, facebook is a popularity contest and just as you’re about to score big with a status and propel your way in facebook stardom with a post that people will remember forever, the post now becomes remembered as that conversation between that guy you met once on holidays and some douchebag from primary school.

The Facebook Punishment: Everytime these people ever say anything online or in real life, just start a completely irrelevant conversation with somebody else. Talk to yourself if you have to. This crime cannot continue to go unpunished.

Facebook Crime no.5

The Facebook Crime: Oversharing your baby stuff.

I’m not having a go at people that have babies here. Hell I’m all for reproduction if that’s your thing, you sexy, genital bashing breeder you. And I don’t hate babies. All in all, congratulations that your genitals work and you did something that people have been successfully doing without social media for thousands of years. No really, top drawer stuff out of you.

And what annoys me about this isn’t the occasional photo of your kids on special occasions like birthdays, weddings, christenings, circumcisions. What annoys me is when every single second, of every single day, these kids are being put on social media sites. Or more importantly, are clogging my goddamn newsfeed. My newsfeed is for Interesting things, not your baby.

I don’t care that your toddler is teething, I don’t care that he spilled spaghetti on the clean white top his grandmother just gave him. I don’t mean to belittle you here, but your child is not the first kid to ever successfully walk. These moment are special…to you. These are the photos that you should have yourself and share with family and close friends. Not that guy that you once met on a night out in coppers and you let him play feed the pony on the dancefloor. That’s just inappropriate.

The mothers that post these are usually listed as a “full time mammy.” But hey, full time mammy, your kid’s going to grow up and then instead of just having embarrassing photos of him to show to future girlfriends and for mates to slag at a house party now the whole world has seen them. And I’m sure that when he’s older he’ll be just delighted that uploaded 23 photos of him getting bathed in the sink.

The Facebook punishment: We don’t need to punish them. Their teenage children will punish them enough when they realise that their life has been documented online for anyone to see like a really boring Truman show.


For more hilarious observations on life you can follow Ben on twitter @manbearfridge


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Sure why wouldn’t ya?

We’ve all been there at some stage or another (unfortunately some might say), 3 euro drinks, metal blaring from all the speakers, a smoking area reeking of weed and actually fuller than the inside of the club. Ah it could only be Fibber’s on a Thursday night.

Bustling through the crowd of hair, bandanas and eye make up (and that’s just the guys) I struggled to get to the bar. Placed my order politely and was met with an incredulous tone of facial expression “yes I did order six bottles of Desperados is that ok?” Jeez some people.

Shuffled my way back to the table to deliver my round to the lads, sweating profusely might I add, and at the table next to us is a gentleman wearing a long black overcoat and a top hat. Just why?

Meeting several people that I hadn’t seen in many years (I used to be a big metal head but realised I looked ridiculous in skinny jeans and chains so I definitely could pull that shit off any more) and realised that no one has changed.

Back to the bar. More bottles of Despie. Shots of sambuka. More shots of sambuka. Things were starting to blur at this stage, my t-shirt was so sweat soaked that it felt like I wore it in the shower. Sat down and top hat, long coat guy is still in full “mad hatter” attire not a bead of sweat on his freakishly pale face. Damn him and his ability to withstand horrendous heat. Downstairs for a bit of a mosh to Rage screaming “fuck you I won’t do what you tell me” like I was fifteen all over again…fantastic.

Why is it that when men are raging out to songs like that they feel compelled to take their t-shirts off no matter how godawful they look with their hair down to their arse and the potbelly on show?

Triple H spraying beer over the crowd of “dancers” was something I enjoyed watching, people were confused as to where it was coming from, I laughed.

More Despies. More shots. And a Kopparberg mixed berry that one of the lads coaxed a girl that we had never seen before into giving us for no apparent reason (just remembered that there, don’t you just love hangover flashbacks?).

Something’s ringing a bell about a bet involving and older lady, twenty euro and acts that I simply cannot post on here and then going outside twenty minutes later through the cloud of hairspray and skinny jeans to see her involved in some equally horrific, publicly indecent behaviour with a skin head. Only in Fibber’s I tell ya.

Then came the long walk down O’Connell street to Burger King. Harry limping (I still don’t know why, don’t think he does either). Ordering my food and sprite (what came out was actually fizzy water) and Harry refusing to leave until they gave us coke instead, I never did get that Coke by the way.

Vaguely recall someone, I’m not entirely sure who, running up and down the quays trying to find a taxi that would take 7 of us to Lucan and Celbridge. Next thing I know I wake up without opening my eyes and thinking “hey this isn’t as bad as I anticipated” then opening my eyes and feeling my retinas turn to ash inside my own head. Love hangovers….hate that sarcasm doesn’t translate well over text.

In bed, dying, listening to a bit o’ Lynrd Skynrd…much more my style.

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