Friend, I accidentally 'liked' a photo in your 'Back to the Hills - Part Deux or Tres or Quatro' album once. (I forget which one, given you have 7366393 albums on Facebook.) My mailbox might sue me for 'pointless-non-spam-mail-rape' because the notifications wouldn't stop coming in.
And what's with 'liking' your own posts and photos buddy? You know they call that act 'Posturbation!' Thought you should know.
Also your latest vacation photos! Well, thanks for rubbing them in the faces of peeps that haven't had the time or the money to take one in years. But will you please use photoshop, even windows photo-editor to fix that damn red eye in every photo you have posted?
And yes, for the love of all posts sacred and holy, please STOP tagging me in the cute cat, cute dog, fugly cat, fugly dog, biggest flower, sexy car, weird religious text/deity, beautiful scenery, random photoshopped shit from internet and totally pointless abstract photos. I waste my time untagging myself. Time I'd much rather waste looking at the absorbing videos that you've tagged me in. Yes, the ones that wouldn't mostly buffer.
Ah your glorious statuses! 763539047 of them since we became Facebook frens. Impressive consistency I must say. They are my most favoured way of peeping into your daily, mostly eventless but still broadcast-worthy existence. Tiny pieces of your mind: they tell me what site you are stealing cliched one-liners from, what size trousers you are wearing and how long it's been since you got some.
Every time I refresh my browser and I get to know how crappy your mood is - how your sandwich is so 'rad', how yummy the chocolate cake is that you ate four slices of and what medicine you took after u got diarrhoea after eating those four slices of cake. I came very close to liking that post, then thought about the impending mailbox rape case.
By the way thanks for spoiling the latest release for me by facebooking the ending in your, 'KPLD sucked, the hero totally dies in da end' update.
Through all these years of knowing you, I'd no idea that u are 64 per cent feather pillow and 21 per cent plastic! But thanks to the results of the 'What per cent of you is feather pillow and plastic' quiz, I know you better.
Who would have thought that your result for the 'Which Greek God are you?' quiz would be Facbookus Annoyus? U might get a 100 per cent on 'Do your friends hate you for spamming the shit out of their time lines' quiz if you try it.
Bud, thanks to the questions you are answering, I now know that in a wrestling match to death between all of Hollywood and Bollywood, you think that a combination of Salman Khan and Sunny Deol will totally kick Sylvester Stallone and Charlie Sheen's Ass. I concur.
Though I must admit I found the 'Will you let me eat your liver?' question you asked me rather psychotic.
Also, let's try and avoid solving complex international issues by asking 'Should India go to war with Paksitan?' type questions. You might be surprised to know this, but reductionism doesn't help. And who knows which politician might take the answer at its 'face'value.
Friend, I've noticed that over time, there's been a considerable change (for want of a better word) in your facebook language. Or would you prefer calling it facebookese? 'The' has become 'da'. I see what you are doing there; you are saving an alphabet. Smart.
But pray, tell what you get out of converting a healthy and functional 'my' to a weird sounding, almost vomit mimicking 'ma?' Is it some secret tribute to Madonna or Madhuri or your own mother? Post the answer on ma wall.
Talking about the time you've spent here, one would think that by now you can differentiate between spam and not spam. Okay here's a quick go-to guide: Videos like 'See how she gets busted in class!' with the girls' bust prominently sticking out: SPAM. Shouldn't be that hard! Also, I honestly, really, actually don't care about who is viewing my profile or how many times.
And can u please stop asking me for the 'Organic horse shit manure' for your farm? I don't care if your dandelions are dying in the 'I'm-a-delusional-farmer-ville' game that you are playing, partly in your head. That farm is NOT real. Get your butt off your computer and grow some real plants if you like farming that much.
And stop poking me if you are a guy. It's gay.
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Raheel Khursheed is an independent journalist based in Kashmir. He is a consultant on communication skills, development and youth leadership. He writes on international, national, local and even trivial matters. You can contact him on firstname.lastname@example.org. He tweets at @Raheelk.