The Republic of Awesome

I logged into Facebook this morning to see I had notifications. Including a photo comment, which is something I usually check.

Clicking on it, I realise I have to log into Facebook again.

Like, wtf mate. I just logged in! You can’t do this to me! You always do this to me! ARGH!

Until of course I checked the URL.

It’s a good habit because…

…I was about to give away personal details to Faceboo. Which sounds more like a Halloween prank than a social networking site.

HAHA squids. So delicious.

Please check the URL’s of any site you’re logging into. Otherwise someone’s going to log into your account, steal all your pictures and the next thing you know you’re the poster girl for the Facebook of Sex.

(Actually no, the skanky photos come from MySpace.)

This public service announcement is brought to you by The Republic of Awesome dot com.

Avast, ye’ landlubbers! A matey o’ mine informed me that te’ olde Facebook be available in te’ tougue o’ swashbucklers!

T’switch ye Facebook from te’ tongue o’ landlubbers t’that o’ me mighty pirate mateys, go t’ ye settings adjustment in ye Facebook and be setting ye language to English (Pirate).

You are a pirate!

I’m writing from my brother’s EEE PC. I have to say I absolutely hate typing on it.

Perhaps it is the fact that I prefer to use the right SHIFT button, which on the EEE is a tiny button the size of Kate Moss’ right breast.

Or that I have a habit of resting my palms on the touch pad area, which doesn’t deactivate when the mouse is plugged in.

Or that my ginormous hands keep hitting the wrong keys on the miniscule keyboard, which is so small it must have been built by a secret society of hobbits bent on world domination but needing a keyboard to type out their nefarious plans.

Blah it doesn’t matter because my laptop’s finally back from the repair shop tomorrow, along with all my draft posts, work documents, useful applications and the such. You really don’t realise how much you need something until it is gone.

Anyway, since I’m in a ranty mood, what the heck is up with the Facebook quizzes?

The only people who’d do such rubbish are the completely bored or the purely asinine.

And when I say bored, I mean the kind of boredom where you’d want to take a pair of pliers and rip out your fingernails just to feel something other than the ever-present ennui.

Seriously, who the heck believes that a random 3-7 quiz questions written by a similarly bored Facebook user can have any bearing whatsoever into revealing even a smidgen of your personality?

If you do, then you have as much personality as a wooden board. There’s really nothing else I can say except ‘please nail yourself to the floor so you can be at least as useful as aforementioned board’.

Yet my Facebook front page is chock full of quiz results telling me my friend should date a guy named ‘Scotty’ or that black is their colour or they ought to wash their underwear more often.

Geez. If I could find a way to sell boredom or inane retardedness as a commodity, I’d be raking it in.