The Facebook Curse

18 Aug

As regular readers would know, I enjoy putting off work to pursue lofty opportunities for enriched entertainment and cultural experience. Because that’s the kind of high-hittin‘ professional I am, ok?

This takes many forms, such as taking teammates out for drinks at my beloved Labour in Vain and even putting off the morning shower and straighten (this hair, sadly, doesn’t look fabulous on its own) in order to blog to the adoring masses of the interwebs.

But when they combine? Oooh but it’s a slice of nasty.

Like when photos of you getting beyond trashed after going it harder than one ought surface on Facebook. Over four weeks. And you get tagged. So people can see them. See you wince as you throw down a demon shot of “Russian Cocaine” (vodka shot served with slice of lemon, sugar and cinnamon). A month has passed. And still the photos appear. All nicely tagged. Like court exhibits tendered as evidence.

If anyone clicked on that innocent looking tag entitled “View photos of Amoir”, you’d have certain expectations. Amoir as hard working professional, thoughtful finger to chin, Amoir taking tea with Hello Kitty, Amoir gracefully mingling at sophisticated soirees, altruistically teaching the masses about AWESOME film appreciation or pursuing hard diplomatic relations with Cthulu (kapow!).*

But no. You’d basically see me, your humble correspondant, hugging everyone

or doing vodka shots

or kissing film awards I’ve shoved down my chesticles

or posing with a frisbee on my head.

(confession: I was actually completely sober in this photo)

This is where I say to you, dearest friends, that the true mark of friendship is to see these photos in your digital card of shame the next morning and say “no, the world must never see Amoir like this”, For true friends will get you home safely, not on the interschminter in all your drunken “glory”. Put simply, a true friend will always hide evidence. Not find the latest Web 2.0 means to publish them.

(Apparently, I must share that I am apparently the world’s cutest drunk who is just like a japanese cartoon. Just. Like.)

* And I think we all realise those are COMPLETELY VALID expectations to have on me given they’re based on experience. Hard bitten empirical evidence!

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