So, I idly glance at my Facebook news feed, and I see a post from some girl I went to high school with thanking all the people who sent prayers/good wishes/what-the-fuck-ever to her via the interwebs because her daughter got hurt and she just had to plaster that shit all over the Facebook…
I’ll stop that little rant there, because my (righteous) indignation over soliciting Facebook attention via tragedy/trauma/illness/injury isn’t actually why I’m a bad person.
No, why I’m a bad person is, while I’m reading this, all I can think is:
Man, it would be hilarious to post this status update that’s all “My little girl got real banged up last night, everybody. Please send her your good wishes” and then let all the bleeding hearts who never talk to me otherwise comment and such and then write another post the next day [author’s note: this is almost word-for-word part of the status that girl I knew in high school put up today], “Thank you everyone for your thoughts and prayers. She’s doing better, more sore today than yesterday. Got some great meds and this is probably the most rest she’s gotten in a while.” Once again, let people comment and pollute my wall with their filthy faux concern and then, the next day…
“BTW, when I was talking about my little girl, I was talking about my vagina. She took a real pounding the other night, and I was really worried I’d damaged something. But she’s much better now, thanks for all your concern!”
…And that, right there, is why I’m just the worst person.
I fucking love me.