I have come to the conclusion that most people use facebook to stalk other people. I cannot blame them for using the tools provided.
If I comment on someone's picture, I get notified EVERY time someone else comments on it. Annoying.
If I know 2 mutual friends, facebook notifies me when they write on eachother's wall. Why is that my business?
When my friends add new friends, it lets me know. WHY? I don't need to know every time my friends take a poop. Next they will have a POOPING button you can push when you are about to drop a load. A large picture of a turd will float next to your picture until you click UNPOOP.
I erased over 300 people recently. These are people that I do not talk to. EVER. I may have never even talked to them once since becoming facebook friends. Within 2 weeks, these creeps somehow realised they were erased and requested me again. WTF?
First of all, how did you even notice that I was missing from your friends list? How often do you creep around looking at my page without saying anything? It only took some of them a matter of DAYS to figure it out. EEK.
Facebook needs to have a stalker warning app. Something that lets you know if someone is frequently looking at your page and saying nothing.
Is anyone else extremely annoyed that you cannot UNTAG yourself in those emails that people send to 300 people at once? Or untag yourself in a feed? I would like to untag myself from facebook at times.
But... If I did that, I wouldn't be able to stalk people. ;)
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Inside Jokes Made Public
04/05/11
Kristin: what's that thing where u think ur sick but ur not?
Amanda: hypochondria
Kristin: yup I have that. But with spiders
...Hahahah
Kristin: what's that thing where u think ur sick but ur not?
Amanda: hypochondria
Kristin: yup I have that. But with spiders
...Hahahah
It DEPENDS.
Let me just start by saying that I feel absolutely guilty, and apologise in advance for the things I am about to say. I need a release though, and I swear to GOD I will combust internally without one.
Where do I start? I am pregnant. 13 weeks to be exact, and if you have read my previous blogs you will understand when I say that the father is a PENIS... "Dick" is nothing but a sperm donor. End of story.
Next, I moved back in with my mother. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Free rent, a personal chef... NOT EVEN. I would rather pay 1,000 a month rent than live here. This house is far too crowded as it is. I have absolutely NO personal space what-so-ever. My 90 year old grandpa lives here, and THAT is the real subject of this blog. You are about to find out why I feel bad about writing this. You are about to think I am the spawn of Satan, and honestly, I don't give a shit.
Grandpa is an asshole. An annoying, miserable, asshole. I cannot stand to be around him, not even for a minute. Even the way he breathes... Loud, raspy groaning type breaths. Is that really necessary? He is starved for attention, and will get it any way he can at this point. It takes all the self control I have to keep my mouth shut. As we speak, he is downstairs moaning and groaning, and banging on the wall like a 2 year old, and over and over in my mind I scream "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" but it doesn't come out...
He walks... He goes for walks every single day outside. Not because he wants to, but because my mother yells at him until he does. I know he is capable of walking 3 feet from the couch to the kitchen. He is capable of making himself a sandwich with the bread, peanut butter, jelly, plate, and knife that have been laid out there for him. He somehow feels like everything should be done for him. EVERYTHING. Not my fucking job grandpa. I didn't sign up to be a caretaker. I am downstairs making myself a bowl of soup when he walks into the kitchen. "I see you didn't bother making me a lunch." I understand he is OLD as fuck. I also understand that he is probably miserable, because at this point his quality of life must suck SEVERELY. But, I wouldn't allow anyone to talk to me that way, especially not someone I don't care for. Once again I find myself screaming in my head. "Make your own fucking lunch you ungrateful prick!" I walk away in silence, ignoring him. It's my new favorite thing to do. As soon as I get back upstairs I can hear him call mom on the phone. "Kristin didn't make me a lunch." My only sense of relief was when I heard her say "It's not Kristin's job to make your lunch dad. You have 2 hands, quit acting entitled." WOOOO. One point MOM.
Grandpa's old ears don't work worth a shit. He's practically deaf, and at 90 years old, he still has too much PRIDE to wear his hearing aids. "I don't have a hearing problem." Actually, he DOES, and it's not just HIS hearing problem, it's everyone Else's problem too. He asks a question. I answer it. He asks it again. I YELL it. Sometimes I have to yell it 2 or 3 times before he hears the answer to his question that was most likely fucking stupid to begin with. Do you understand how stressful it is to have to scream over and over and over again to have a conversation that you don't even want to have, with a person who you can't stand to be around? Put in your fucking hearing aids grandpa. Instead of yelling at him, I have started talking under my breath, and saying all the things I want to tell him. (quietly) "Thank you for throwing your adult diaper away in the kitchen trash can, that was really special to wake up to. I love throwing up at 7 a.m." Of course he yells "what?!" to which I respond something more along the lines of "Have a good day today. :)"
I am probably going to lose my mind completely before I can find somewhere else to move. Maybe if I lost my mind, I would get along better with grandpa. We could sit around and have mindless conversation, screaming back and forth at each other while I catered to his every need. BUT,that is what my mother does on a daily basis. I will need to figure something else out.
Where do I start? I am pregnant. 13 weeks to be exact, and if you have read my previous blogs you will understand when I say that the father is a PENIS... "Dick" is nothing but a sperm donor. End of story.
Next, I moved back in with my mother. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Free rent, a personal chef... NOT EVEN. I would rather pay 1,000 a month rent than live here. This house is far too crowded as it is. I have absolutely NO personal space what-so-ever. My 90 year old grandpa lives here, and THAT is the real subject of this blog. You are about to find out why I feel bad about writing this. You are about to think I am the spawn of Satan, and honestly, I don't give a shit.
Grandpa is an asshole. An annoying, miserable, asshole. I cannot stand to be around him, not even for a minute. Even the way he breathes... Loud, raspy groaning type breaths. Is that really necessary? He is starved for attention, and will get it any way he can at this point. It takes all the self control I have to keep my mouth shut. As we speak, he is downstairs moaning and groaning, and banging on the wall like a 2 year old, and over and over in my mind I scream "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" but it doesn't come out...
He walks... He goes for walks every single day outside. Not because he wants to, but because my mother yells at him until he does. I know he is capable of walking 3 feet from the couch to the kitchen. He is capable of making himself a sandwich with the bread, peanut butter, jelly, plate, and knife that have been laid out there for him. He somehow feels like everything should be done for him. EVERYTHING. Not my fucking job grandpa. I didn't sign up to be a caretaker. I am downstairs making myself a bowl of soup when he walks into the kitchen. "I see you didn't bother making me a lunch." I understand he is OLD as fuck. I also understand that he is probably miserable, because at this point his quality of life must suck SEVERELY. But, I wouldn't allow anyone to talk to me that way, especially not someone I don't care for. Once again I find myself screaming in my head. "Make your own fucking lunch you ungrateful prick!" I walk away in silence, ignoring him. It's my new favorite thing to do. As soon as I get back upstairs I can hear him call mom on the phone. "Kristin didn't make me a lunch." My only sense of relief was when I heard her say "It's not Kristin's job to make your lunch dad. You have 2 hands, quit acting entitled." WOOOO. One point MOM.
Grandpa's old ears don't work worth a shit. He's practically deaf, and at 90 years old, he still has too much PRIDE to wear his hearing aids. "I don't have a hearing problem." Actually, he DOES, and it's not just HIS hearing problem, it's everyone Else's problem too. He asks a question. I answer it. He asks it again. I YELL it. Sometimes I have to yell it 2 or 3 times before he hears the answer to his question that was most likely fucking stupid to begin with. Do you understand how stressful it is to have to scream over and over and over again to have a conversation that you don't even want to have, with a person who you can't stand to be around? Put in your fucking hearing aids grandpa. Instead of yelling at him, I have started talking under my breath, and saying all the things I want to tell him. (quietly) "Thank you for throwing your adult diaper away in the kitchen trash can, that was really special to wake up to. I love throwing up at 7 a.m." Of course he yells "what?!" to which I respond something more along the lines of "Have a good day today. :)"
I am probably going to lose my mind completely before I can find somewhere else to move. Maybe if I lost my mind, I would get along better with grandpa. We could sit around and have mindless conversation, screaming back and forth at each other while I catered to his every need. BUT,that is what my mother does on a daily basis. I will need to figure something else out.
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