Darling Clementine

“The 27th. I’ve been letting people know.”

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Apparently, according to her, mother is planning a party for my birthday.

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This is a few days old, but I just discovered a link to it; so, yeah.

Facebook Wants to Be Your One True Login

This is why morons shouldn’t be allowed to own computers. Seriously? I’m only up to page 7 of the comments right now; but seriously? Even after the article was edited to include the message that THIS SITE ISN’T FUCKING FACEBOOK, people are still *~*confused*~*.

This crap is fucking hilarious. I really, really wonder about some people’s literacy. Seriously, get grandma off the fucking computer.

Facebook – BLUE. RRW – RED. I know Facebook has been instituting a lot of changes lately, but Jesus-fucking-Christ people, they didn’t change the damn layout.

Stupid people make my brain hurt. I’m seriously wondering how these people manage to function in their daily lives if they can’t even manage to get to a fucking web site they apparently frequent like it’s going out of style. How do they work microwaves, or an ATM, or breathing?

Haha, this thread got me thinking. All these people use Google to get to Facebook? How do they get to Google? I’d have to guess their homepage is Google. Now if only there were a way to change that homepage to Facebook they’d be stuck!

Posted by: Rofl | February 11, 2010 2:50 PM

hahahahahaha! If you use Google to get to Google, is that like dividing by zero and destroying the world? YOU MOTHERFUCKER YOU JUST BROKE THE INTERNET.

/edit: Most of the stupid-asses have managed to click on the option that lets you comment with your Facebook details. Therefore, you have a face and profile to go along with the stupid. I’ve been visiting some of them… oh people older than me, .

I hate this fucking place & everyone in it. Especially that fucking bitch standing over to the right.

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I have a raging headache. I’m cold. I still have to drive home & my eyes hurt.
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Both of those fucking bitches over there I hate. My throat hurts. STOP FUCKING TALKING.
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I hate that fucking bitch upstairs, too. I’m not working anymore. Screw this fucking place. Janky-ass, low-rent mother fuckers. FUCK THIS PLACE. FUCK ALL OF YOU. GO TO HELL & DIE.

If I didn’t write these notes to myself while I was at work, I’d probably yell at a bunch of people and no one would talk to me ever again. Not that I really care, but hey… it makes ME feel better and that’s all that matters. I wrote these last Friday. It’s amazing what I find stuffed in my pockets after work, .