Q: Oh, so you finally got a Facebook?
A: Fuck you, you fucking fuck. This is the third account I've had, and the first one was created before you fucking ever heard of Farcebook. I was on MySpace before the first million people signed up. I was even on Friendster, and you never even heard of that. So what was I saying again? Yeah, fuck you.
Q: What made you get one now?
A: I regularly considered getting a FB account for the last 24 months at the insistence of EVERYONE, but I keep returning to the fact that I don't care enough for a shitty interface and superficial interactions, so I just don't. Lately I've been getting pestered three times a week (I'm not exaggerating) by different people about not having one anymore.
Q: Can I add you as a friend?
A: You probably shouldn't if your mom is on your friend list. Seriously. One of the reasons I stayed away from this site is because you morons don't know how to compartmentalize your online life the way you do your real life. I mean, you don't take your mom to Rocky Horror, do you? Why? Because moms generally freak when anyone younger than them not working in the construction field says "fuck." I say "fuck" a lot, and I will on your page if you add me. Your call.
Q: Can I write on your wall?
A: No. Why do you want to piss all over my nice clean wall? I just moved in here, and you want to fuck it up already.
Q: Are you going to post shit like you
did on MySpace?
A: I have no idea. As I've told you before, I write for my own sake. Sometimes I post it, but most of it doesn't go any farther than my hard drive. I never used Facebook back when I had my previous accounts, so who knows?
Q: What about pictures of Stan?
A: You know where I live. Bring a camera.
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