Dear Facebook, Please Stick It Where The Sun Doesn’t Shine

I didn’t mind when you called me fat and lonely. The fat part was correct, winter and my vast consumption of marshmallows has led to a rather large and noticeable change in my weight and size. But I’m not going to sweat it Facebook, or at least I won’t sweat it until about April after which point I’m going to sweat it all off.

I even got the lonely part Facebook, it was your way of helping. Like my grandfather Facebook, you would prefer that everyone come in pairs. It was nice of you to try and help, but I’ve got this whole relationship thing under control.

However, your most recent trend of showing me bridesmaid dresses? I don’t even know where you’re getting that information from Facebook. What part of searching for Google images of ponchos leads you to believe that I’m going to always be the bridesmaid from now on and die in a house full of hungry mewling cats? That’s just mean Facebook, and completely uncalled for. Also the dresses are ugly. You have terrible taste. Please go back to showing me ads of women sporting A lines with the words “Now in size twelve to twenty-four” because you’re right Facebook, I never wear pants.

Not sincerely, and in fact quite angrily not yours,

The Great Unwashed

Facebook Thinks I’m Fat and Lonely

Dear Facebook,

Thanks for your recent concern regarding both my love life and physical appearance. I’m not sure where your information about my dating status came from but it’s wrong. Facebook, clearly you haven’t been keeping up with my blog. It’s ok, I get it, you’re a busy social media site; it’s difficult to keep tabs on everyone.

I don’t think I’d be nearly so offended by your consistent campaign to snag me a man if the guys on the dating sites you keep advertising to me were my type, which for the record is nerdy crossed with outdoorsy, but when those advertisements are followed up with “articles” about how to lose 10 pounds FAST, I start to question whether the problem is you or me, Facebook.

However in the spirit of love which includes the act of forgiveness, I forgive you Facebook. Happy Valentine’s Day. Thank you for trying to help me; my enormous rump, Erasmus and I will be celebrating the fourteenth with Tex, my hottie hottie boyfriend. So you can ease up on the number of dating adverts I’m shown. Unless of course I start googling “How to eat an entire tub of ice cream while crying in your pyjamas over a break up” in which case you need to send me flowers on Valentine’s Day, and perhaps a personal trainer. At this point, the phrase I will most likely be googling next Saturday is “How to make homemade bacon ice cream that’s supposed to be a gift for my beau not taste like salty bike tires?”

From my heart to your electronic innards Facebook, Happy Valentine’s Day,

The Great Unwashed

Travesty Tuesdays- Crazy Feline Felonies


Dear Readers,

The next three posts will be about cats. Please note this is not a blog about cats, mostly because I don’t have any. It would violate the agreement that we have with our landlord, where we commit highway robbery each time we pay rent and they ask us not to have pets.

This group of three West Indian manatees (Tric...

Endangered species or slowest assassins of the sea? (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Also cats are not my favourite animal. If pressed I would say my favourite animal is the manatee. But that’s only if I’m not in the water with manatees. If I was I’d be shouting “Why in goodness name do you want to know my favourite animal? Can’t you see these manatees are going to kill me by swimming over me and not realizing I’m trapped underneath them?” It’s one of my greatest nightmares- death by an inert group of manatees.

That being said, for someone who is not an avid lover of cats I’ve spent approximately eighty percent of my life living with them and ten percent of my life cleaning their litter boxes. The disproportionate amount of litter box cleaning that I’ve done may explain my lack of unabashed love for the creatures.

My sister and mom on the other hand spend their life amassing cats and loving cats. They also enjoy taking photos of them and looking at photos of cats. It is my understanding that this is standard for all cat lovers.

Without further adieu, my most recent communication to my dear sister.



I thought I should contact you first before the organization does.

Your Crazy Cat Lady membership is being revoked. I wrote a post about our recently deceased cat. Needing a photo to go along with the post I turned to your Facebook page. Not only did I fail to find a photo of said cat, but my search failed to turn up any cat pictures at all on your Facebook profile.

As you are supposedly “the cat lover” in the family I found this oddly suspicious. Further inquiry turned up a photo of a daschund that was once tagged “Diana’s best friend”. More searching turned up a comment you made of “OMG cutest thing alive” in response to a photo of a Golden Doodle puppy.

By this point I was quite alarmed and questioning who my sister really was, it was in that state that I telephoned the Crazy Cat Ladies organization.

They’ll be by at some point this week to confiscate both your cat tree and your floppy crocheted hat.

I think it goes without saying that you’re not to buy cat nip or any other feline related paraphernalia for a year.

Much love, I’m sorry I had to turn you in.

The Great Unwashed