Happy Birthday Facebook Friend Who I Haven’t Seen In 20 Years And Hope To Never Set Eyes On Again!
We’ve all got that one Facebook friend.
The one you went to school or college with who was really popular despite not being all that great. The one who had liberal parents that let them have parties and who are still popular now, with same old gang of people fawning all over them and you still don’t understand what the attraction is.
The one with the air of “I’m so fabulous, but I hardly even try, I’m just so genuine” about them.
You will have hidden them from your feed by now, because the annoying cunt will be one of those people who harp on and on about their perfect lives (or even worse, they will never post a thing, but their arse licking friends will tag them in a thousand photos of them at parties saying how great they are), but Facebook will still notify you when it is their birthday. Facebook is great like that and when you are reminded of her existence, you will have to sneak a look at her profile (it will always be a woman, and this only applies to women. Men aren’t such massive bellends).
You’ll never speak to her or see her again, so why are you still friends?
Come on, we all know why.
It’s the joy you feel when she posts the picture of her newborn because its funny looking (like her) and your children are way cuter. Don’t deny it – you think her kids are weird looking too although you still commented “gorgeous!” under the photo becsaue you are still a massive brown nose just like you were when you were 14/16/18 and willing her to love you.
You also love that she appears to have no taste in interior decor and her house looks like something Dumbledore threw up and that her husband looks really fucking odd from certain angles.
Although nothing, nothing is better than clicking on a photo to find out that she has gained a few stone. You always wanted to look better than her, and now you do!
Oh, I know what you are thinking: “People think the same way about you, so shut up”.
Of course they fucking do!
I can just imagine the glee that some of the people who follow me feel when I get fat again (I tend to lose friends when I get thin), or I have a break up, or I moan about my job, or I slang off some bloke who has chucked me, or I slang of some bloke I have chucked.
I am the divorced drunk one with the shit children.
But at least I’m not a lying cunt and my shit children are good looking.