Sing it with me: “Thank you for being a friend…travel down the road and back again…”
Last night as I was getting ready for bed, I started to think about the fact that Facebook friends tend to follow commenting patterns. There are certain people who always respond to every status in exactly the same way. You know those people. The second you see their name in your notifications, you want to
And then my next thought, naturally, was that these Facebook commenters are an awful lot like the Golden Girls. Because of course.
I present to you, the Golden Girls of Facebook.
Dorothy is the queen bee frenemy of Facebook. She sweeps in and announces every little flaw in your status update, from the incorrect use of your/you’re to the historical inaccuracy of your humorous reference. Her favorite way to begin a comment is with, “Actually…” Do yourself a favor and unfriend her on her next birthday.
Let’s be real. You’re only friends with these people because a.) they’re family b.) your mom made you c.) she is your mom or d.) you were feeling nostalgic for the people back home and lost your mind momentarily. Every comment made by this friend is completely irrelevant to anything else written in the thread. Typically her comments share an embarrassing detail about your childhood, reveal private contact information, or ask you a question that should be asked in a private message. Often these comments begin with, “Dear YourName” and end with LOL, which she wrongly thinks means “lots of love.” This commenter has no idea how to use Facebook and has single-handedly driven all Millenials off of the platform.
*DEEP SIGH* Remember when you first got Facebook and you friended everyone from your past because, quite frankly, there weren’t that many people on Facebook so you were all friends again by the simple fact that you’d opened an account? Now you’ve been dragging your exes around with you for the last nine years, and they pop back up like a recurring infection that antibiotics can’t quite kick. God forbid you post a pic with even a smidge of cleavage or use a great filter on your morning car selfie and they are on your Wall like white on rice. You would unfriend them, but then who would tell you how hot you look holding up your Starbucks cup to show off your first PSL of the season?
Rose. Oh, Rose. This friend doesn’t understand memes. She gets exactly zero of your funny references, can’t pick up on sarcasm, and stares at you blankly when you yell, “LEEERRRROOOOOOYYYYY JEENNNNKKKIIINNNNSSSSS!!!!!” She only comments when she is confused, which is always. Her sole purpose on Facebook is to post cute pictures, share completely false news stories, and kill threads with her stupidity.
Blanche Devereaux is my spirit animal. Should my sweet, amazing, wonderful husband (love you, Schmoop!!) leave this world prematurely, I fully intend to click around the lanais of the world in feisty kitten heels, leaving a wake of smitten men in my path. And my girlfriends will be my lifeblood. Everyone should have a tribe of Blanches on Facebook and in life, those friends who get you, know exactly what to say at the right time, and keep cheesecake at the ready at all times. To my Blanche Facebook friends – you know who you are. I love you.