I admit it.  I have some Facebook “friends” with whom I haven’t spoken since high school.  I only sought out a few of them, but the rest found me.  And…they weren’t jerks back then, we talked occasionally, so sure, I friended them.  We’re not much alike now (most of them are married and have kids, I remain defiantly single and unimpregnated; yay, disposable income!), but I suppose I enjoy seeing their status updates and I generally wish them well.

And Facebook (also, actually mainly, the now defunct-on-my-end-of-things MySpace) has afforded me the opportunity to meet new people I like.  Through writing, I’ve managed to befriend some pretty terrific people in addition to keeping up with the old ones.  (Jen, get yourself a Facebook already.)  We rarely – if ever – get to see one another in real life, but just knowing they’re out there blogging, commenting, and being cool is enough for me.

It interests me, then, that when I have the urge to clean out my friends list, I almost always delete the people I speak to on a semi-regular basis, or at least the ones I’ve seen in passing within the past 2 months or so.

Maybe it’s because I deal with their bullshit on a more frequent basis.  I don’t know.  It just annoys me when I realize that I’ve been seeing evidence of their shitheadery for some time, and instead of just putting a stop to it right away, I’ve let it build up a few statuses per day until I can’t take it anymore.  I guess it’s not their fault that they’re assholes with defective personalities (and not in the good way, though I’m sure that’s how they view themselves), but it’s my fault that I’ve been letting them in for so long.

I have no time for awful people.  They can go be disgusting on their own time.

Gross.  Purge.  Goodbye.

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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