Category Archives: facebook

The pizza budget’s been cut

Check out this spoofy short film that demonstrates that Yahoo! understands ‘why cre8ives in advertising get jaded & go live on farms in the country’. It’s “funny because it’s true”. Originally seen on Chris Rawlinson’s fabulous site.

My latest business venture

Y’ulz, I am an entrepreneur. Did y’ulz know that? Sometimes I can’t ‘touch you’ via blogging because I am ‘running this town tonight’.

N E wayz…


I hav a dream. And that dream is to cre8 my vry own facebook appy. It will be called FUCKVILLE, and its appeal is quite logical y’all. Basically, various small, lonely animals will wonder in and out of your fbook profile, and you will be offered the chance 2 ‘fuck them’.

A screenshot of how the average user will interface with Fuckville.

What do y’als think? Am basically pitching it to my VC bros as ‘the ultimate facebook app, a rollercoaster ride of sex, sheep and fuckery’. Think it’ll be a hit y’ulle? Am going to do a spot market research poll (for my FLYSWAT analysis later, pls leave your answer as a comment):

Will FUCKVILLE be a hit appy?

a) You’re a fucking genius Alex. Fucking fuck.

b) Of course it will. You can make an app out of anything and the laggards on the facebook adoption cycle will lap it up because they’re lower middle-class worker ants who drive third-hand hatchbacks and aspire to being head supervisor at the forklift company and playing Fuckville will allow them to ‘take back their time’ (via looking like they’re working)

c) No ways. Fucking sheep is sooooo 2000-and-late

d) If you release this app into the armies of spammy app-lapping tards on facebook I will kill myself and leave this blog post open on my laptop so ppl know why I did it.

e) There is already an app like this, except they call ‘fucking’ “farming”. Perhaps the similarity is intentional?


Appreciate your help on my individual journey to entrepreneurial greatness. If you would like the once-in-a-lifetime chance 2 be a part of this ‘sure thing’ y’als can drop me a comment telling me the top 5 ‘animals people like 2 fuck’ & I will get back 2 you based on the acumen displayed in your insights. Thanks 4 helping me ‘work night and day’ 2 make the internet ‘a more fun place’ for y’ulz.

Are there beggars ‘fucking everywhere’?

Can you spare some of your online influence?

Y’ulz, this is a srs post. Sometimes I feel, when am driving my Bugatti thru the streets of ‘the most beautiful city in the world’ (Gardens), that there are beggars ‘fucking everywhere’. Think I am kind of over winding down my window BEFORE they approach 2 tell them 2 ‘lean on some other car like that Polo’. FFS y’ulle.

You'd better wash that stump b4 u click on my profile

And as if having to ‘decline stealing from myself 2 give 2 the poor’ on a daily basis is not painful enough, some beggar walked up to my window on facebook 2day (via an internal fbook email) and begged for me to ‘just go to this page and scroll down to the photo of the yam and like it, but don’t open the photo and like the photo, just like the link or it wont count as a vote, so I can win a free yamboat’.
Maybe just send this pic of my child 2 ur mailing list
Y’ulle can imagine my reply.
No, y’ulle actually can’t because I used a word I made up.

I said:

“Fangbags! Did u rly just send me this??????? H8 u.”

Maybe u can fwd round your office or summin.
Srsly. Are there beggars ‘fucking everywhere’? Gonna write my next pro-bono article for the Big Issue about the beggar endemic. Have ‘had it in chunks’. What are y’ulz feelings about this topical issue? Has our social networking society ‘gone 2 the dogs tonight’? is fbook ‘the new Zim’?

Sick of ppl underestimating me.

Im more than just an art director, okay.

I'm more than 'just an art director' okay.

Look. I’ve decided to GMFST (Get My Fucking Shit Together). Have had enough sitting in the corner being ‘the agency’s quirky designer who knows online’. I’m gonna develop my niche and show my employers I know my shit. Gonna campaign for a promotion, and gonna do that by sending out mails about ‘measuring social media’ to make the older ppl in the agency shit their pants and realise how invaluable I am.

Step 1: Scour some sites for relevant articles. Maybe follow some links on twitter.
Step 2: Copy gist of article into a mail and provide a link, knowing no one will click the link and will assume I wrote the article even tho I di’int.
Step 3: Send to allstaff with Subject that makes most people in agency feel like they don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about, and don’t want to know, hence will recommend me to be responsible for anything vaguely related to social media.
Step 4: Get raise.

Ill never be afraid. Not even of the nasty writers who reply to my mails saying Im a dupe.

I'll never be afraid. Not even of the nasty writers who reply to my mails saying I'm a conartist.

Cha-ching bitches! (Just did a SIM-Alexa-Twitta-rater test on this approach and it gets a 9.5 score on the fuck-me-I’m-smart scale). PS. Don’t think I’m gonna sit on facebook executing the lame-ass campaign I came up with, just FYI. Best you hire an intern or something. I’m headed out of nowhereville going straight to the top of this food chain (that’s what the quiz I did on facebook says – you can quote it if you like). PPS. Now that I’m a social media hot-shot, don’t expect me to hang out with y’all ‘traditional creatives’ at Loeries any more. I’ve moved on.

How should I tell people about my Loerie finalists?

Hey y’ulz. Been quiet because I like to build up a little anticipation. Plus I have this new job working for free as an intern running a social media campaign for some big brand (because I was cheaper than that social media guru who ppl think is ‘out to make a quick buck’).

Anyway, got some Loerie finalists and was wondering how I can tell everyone I know about my Loerie finalists without coming across as complete fucking tard. Though call. Basically these are my options:

1. tell my boyfriend / best friend via private msg and hope they post a ‘CONGRATZ ON UR LOERIE FINALISTS’ post on my fbook wall / twitter / blog

2. pretend to be disappointed and tweet ‘only got 20 Loerie finalists am soooo bummed was aiming for 35 FML want 2 die’ and  wait for the ‘wow that’s amazing what’s wrong with you, you over-achiever’ comments to fly

3. update my facebook status to read: “Alex hopes her Loerie finalists convert but is ultimately happy because she has done some really good, solid advertising this year, which is what it is all about, ultimately. Thank you Jesus.”

4. Congratulate everyone I know on their finalists on Twitter in the hope that they will say ‘Did you get any finalists’ to which I can reply ‘Oh, not many, just 20. But whatever, holding thumbs you win!’

5. Loudly say stuff like ‘fuck awards, what a joke, how can you measure something that doesn’t matter, sales are all that count, we exist to sell PRODUCT’, in the hopes that someone will say ‘Did you get any Loerie finalists?’ at which I can say, ‘You shouldn’t care, me getting 20 finalists means fucking NOTHING, awards mean NOTHING, fuck this, BST* was right all along.’ (I should also pretend to be drunk and embittered with the world to pull this off effectively and really drive home how much of a fuck I don’t give)

6. Tell my mom and wait for her to tell everyone via making ‘mom-comments’ on my lame fbook profile pic

7. Act like a ‘happy advertising ingenue’ and pretend to be genuinely excited about getting Loerie finalists, clap my hands and dance around the studio and tweet about it

8. Post a lot of crap on my blog about ‘Loerie gimmicks’

9. Forward this post to ppl I know in the hopes that they ask me if I got any finalists (by ‘me’ here I mean ‘you’)

10. Attempt suicide in the agency bar and leave a note with the number of finalists on it

11. Sleep with the same number of colleagues as Loerie finalists I have and make cryptic referrals to ‘my magic number’

12. Not tell people. Be a big girl. ‘Finalists aren’t Loeries’, after all.

Will have to weigh up my options. Will maybe make my way through them in order of me thinking of them. Methodical and thorough. How did y’all tell people about how many Loerie finalists you got without coming across like a complete fucking tard?

*BST = Brian Searle Tripp, local advertising popstar

Psychographic profile: I am a GirlJock

Wish I could be in High School for ever. Might go back and coach Girls soccer.

Wish I could be in High School for ever. Might go back and coach Girls' soccer.

I am a GirlJock
In high school my identity was defined by my place in the hockey team
And my place at the sidelines of every ‘big game’ that ‘my’ boys played
And not much has changed except now
I am allowed to drink (legally)
And Thank god (I mean that, I am Christian, Anglican in fact),
because drinking is probably the biggest part of my identity today.

Just another AMAZING NIGHT OUT  with one of my BEST FRIENDS.

Just another AMAZING NIGHT OUT with one of my BEST FRIENDS.

I am a GirlJock
I have over 1000 friends on facebook
All of them love me because I am the life of the party
I am always smiling
There are over 1000 photos on facebook of me smiling
I have sooooo much fun
With all my friends who love my smile
We have so much fun because we are sooooo pissed
We get up to soooooo much craziness at the game / the ball / the girlz night out / the J&B Met
When we get together
And get pissed

Hey such great times at the Met. I 3 the Met, its my best.

Hey such great times at the Met. I <3 the Met, it's my best.

I am a GirlJock
All my friends wish they were me
Even the hot skinny blonde ones
Even though I can’t shake the extra weight I carry around
(it’s because of my drinking, but who cares what you look like when you can party!)
but being overweight doesn’t stop like, a million guys being my best friend
I have soooooo many guy friends
I am in love with like, all of them, but I’ll never risk telling them because
“I don’t want to ruin the friendship”
though I am actually scared they will reject me
because I am not at my ‘ideal weight’
but I keep ordering another drink hoping that
we will be sooo pissed and end up kissing on the dancefloor / at the rugby
and it will turn into something meaningful

I 3 him so much it hurts.

I <3 him so much it hurts.

I am a GirlJock
I studied whatever my older brother studied
And in some ways, I think my older brother is my soul mate
He said I should have been HeadGirl of my highschool
And I totally agree with him
**SMOOCHIESS!!!**
We are the best of friends
4 ever

My brother and I are very close.

My brother and I are very close.

I am a GirlJock
I am highly sociable and am able to be ‘friends with everyone’ (it actually says that on my CV)
Even the zany little creative people
Who don’t work at my accounting firm and claim to ‘hate rugby’ (cute!)
I am a GirlJock
Can’t wait for the weekend
So I can get soooo pissed and partay with like, all my millions of friends
And take photos and post them on facebook
So everyone can see how much fun I am
And how awesome my life is.

Hangovers R us. We are sooo crazy.

Hangovers R us. We are sooo crazy.

I am a GirlJock.

get your money for nothing and your clicks for free

How agency-client negotiations would sound in real life:

got this little gem from JontyFisher (who’s being quoted all over the world these days..ahem ahem New York Times) . thanks dude. funny stuff. speaking of wanting something for nothing, i got the following email this morning (i kid you not):

Hey Alix.

Found your blog on 2oceans and I can dig it. My name’s Jonah* and I’m studying Marketing at Rhodes. What I really dig about your blog is the real-world insight it gives me into advertising and it has made me set that this is the career for me. I loved your article on trendspotters – classic! I have even come across trendspotters in Rhodes.

The reason I’m writing is I’m doing my thesis on How The Conversation Killed Advertising and was wondering if you could give me some pointers. I’m basically looking for businesses that are been using alternative media for their advertising campaigns rather than TV, radio, billboards etc. Basically businesses using facebook or youtube and such. Could you send me a write-up of your XXXXXXX Campaign? I heard it was a great success from reading some other marketing blogs, and one of my course tutors said he saw you speak at a short course he did. It doesn’t have to be long, point-form is fine, and include any relevant pictures. Thanks I’d appreciate it very much if you could oblige me. The first draft of my thesis is due at the end of June so if you could basically get it to me by the end of next week it would be fine.

Jonah*

*Name has been changed to prevent extreme ridicule.


~~~~~ He actually gave me a deadline. It’s too good. When I received this, I printed it out and rubbed it all over my face, letting the ink seep into my skin in an attempt to become *one* with the email. My reply: ~~~~~

Dear Jonah

Thank you so much for contacting me. I have heard about you – in fact, we as an industry have all heard about you and your talent, and are waiting with sweet anticipation for you to get your degree so that we might snap you up into our ranks where we have no doubt you will use your insight into non-traditional advertising to transform the industry.

I will begin my write-up on the XXXXXX campaign immediately. Basically, I have a host of deadlines going on, including writing rationales for my agency’s Loerie Awards Entries, which I will put on hold so that I can get to writing up the case study of the XXXXXX campaign. I will be sure to place all information in succinct prose where point form does not suffice, and will send an instruction to DTP immediately for them to resize all images from the campaign so that you are satisfied. Would you like me to courier over the disc with the information in it? Or would you prefer that I deliver the disc in person? Basically, I’d be honoured to be of service to you in any way. It’s my grandmother’s birthday this evening but I will happily cancel and drive through to the Eastern Cape to make sure you get all the information you might need.

Please don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything more I can do for you. I could offer to write your thesis for you, perhaps? I am a copywriter after all. Anything. You just basically let me know.

Yours in anticipation, basically,

Alex

Alex from MyBrandedLifeTM interviewed by Glitter Zebra

Happy Friday y’ulle. It’s a good one because today I was interviewed by some real life Generation Y kids who run this zany site called Glitter Zebra. Glitter Zebra contacted me because the girl who runs the site (Katie) and her brother (Jerome) have been arguing about ‘What is cool’. So they googled it and found my site, and I have to say, I’m a little flattered. They even gave me The Singing Lion Award for my blog!

What a privilege!

What a privilege!

You can read the full interview here.

An extract to get you all juiced up:

“Basically, pies are cool, yes. They were made cool by that movie with the man who did a lot of Maths, and for a while then Maths was cool, but it was the pies who eventually came out on top.” Alex, interview with Glitter Zebra

A screenshot of the interview

A screenshot of the interview

Do y’ulle know enough about me?

Been educating myself, doing night courses and reading books by Seth Godin. Am worried that my target audience ‘can’t get enough of me’. The new branding rules dictate that I should make every part of my brand available to all my consumers across all touchpoints, and once I’ve built it, ‘they will come’. Y’ulle know you can follow my every move on twitter, right? Is that not enough?

“No matter how many battles I been in and won

No matter how many magazines on my nuts

No matter how many MC’s I eat up

Ooh ooh, it’s never enough” – Eminem


Been considering adopting contemporary strategies to amplify my consumer touch-points, such as filling in ’25 random things you didn’t know about me’ and telling y’ulle to forward it on to everyone you know. Would that be enough for you? Would filling your inbox with the minutae of my minutae make you feel ‘connected and close’ to me?

Maybe I’ll randomly search Wikipedia pages and google images and then tag y’ulle in ‘Album Artwork’. Because random images with random words on them is totally the coolest, raddest most innovative innovation ever, right? And doing it will totally make us better friends / give you more ownership of my personal brand. Wish I’d thought of it first.

Or maybe I’ll answer questions using my iTunes music playlist, and then tag y’ulle in it so I get to brag about my enlightened taste in music AND talk about myself for 10 pages (if you paste the email into MSWord).

“More and more and more” – some techno band from the 90s


Should I make a facebook app that y’ulle can spam your friends with? I will call it MyBrandedCircleofTopFriendsTM©® and if you add it I’d basically own you and spam you with facts like ‘Chocolate or Vanilla: Vanilla’. <3 owning stuff, is my best. <3 vanilla.

And even if you find 25 random facts about me annoying, you can always sympathise with how desperate I am to be ‘unique’ and how desperate I am for you to see me as your higly unique and interesting friend, that I’d  FWD you an excuse to talk about myself and my enlightened musical choices that include radiohead, MGMT, crystal castles, Perfect Circle, CSS and that guitar dude from Deep Purple whose new album is called something like Professor Snatchifunkius or something.

Whatever y’ulle. You just let me know if you need more random, narcissistic info disguised as a friendship-bond-building exercise. I understand if it’s ‘never enough’. BFFs 4 eva y’ulle. 4eva is not enough.

“Gimme gimme more, gimme more, gimme gimme more,” – Britney Jean Spears

Just want yulle to be okay with how much you know me. Want to be there for yulle. Want us 2 engage meaningfully at all strategic touchpoints. Want my POS to be like a warm hand in the night. Want my visibility to be visible.

Just want y'ulle to be okay with how much you 'know me'. Want to be there for y'ulle. Want us 2 engage meaningfully at all strategic touchpoints. Want my POS to be like a warm hand in the night. Want my visibility to be visible.

why am i here? counting my blessings. plus a poem about being an art director

who am i? why am i here? why don’t i capitalise my ‘i”s when i am a writer? why do i even bother logging on every day? does my life have meaning? should i pay off a MacBook over 36 months or just put it on my credit card?

2 Alexs. United in a name on facebook. One disguised as a blonde, one disguised as a Mallix. Enough to make you add Jesus as a friend.

2 Alex's. United in a name on facebook. One disguised as a blonde, one disguised as a Mallix. Enough to make you add Jesus as a friend.

kidding y’ulle. it’s not all that bad. i should count my blessings:

1) My new client-service hair cut. Now I can move effortlessly through all agency divisions. Clients like me more. My boyfriend likes me more. Shop assistants are kinder to me because they think ppl who blowdry their hair have money to spend during this tough ol’ recession.

2) My facebook friends. My facebook friends are the best. They are always there when I need them. If I ever have a status crisis, they comment on it in seconds. Some even use the new ‘I like this’ button. I am blessed y’ulle.

3) My family of brands. Without them, I would be no one. My Reebok shoes keep me grounded and remind me ‘I am who I am’. My Nike Gym Sweats remind me to ‘Just do it’ instead of sleeping late. My Renault Yaris reminds me to shake my environmental booty on a daily basis. I am so blessed.

************************************************************

Feeling very inspired today so am going to use my highly developed sense of empathy to ‘change my course’ and ‘become an art director’.

I am an Art Director: a poem by a copywriter

I am an Art Director

My world is visual, my eyes have visions,

I have crows feet from squinting at the colourful, spinning MacBook Sun,

The glow on my cheeks is blue,

I dream in Hi-Def LCD (hate dead pixels,they’re the worst).

I am an Art Director,

I am too lazy to brainstorm a visual brief with my copywriter.

I would rather just ‘get it out the way’,

So I can browse thru ffffound.com,

and scan in my Holga Lomo Action Sampler prints.

I am an Art Director,

I failed Matric, but nobody cares about qualifications in advertising.

Bummer, since I paid R10 million extra to get a ‘degree’:

Wish someone had told me.

I am an Art Director,

I have lots of coffee table books

That I purchased at the Exclusive Books Summer Sale.

I still have a red beanie from that time I watched The Life Aquatic

and vowed to never wear anything that wasn’t red, white or teal ever again (it was just a phase).

I am an Art Director,

My fingers move over my mac keyboard like a DJ.

I am a visual DJ. But not a V-Jay. Or a vaJayJay. God is a DJ. I am a visual God.

My favourite author is Hunter S. Thomson.

The only author I have ever read is Hunter S. Thomson, even though that one writer chick I went out with wouldn’t shut up about Charles Bukowski.

I am an Art Director,

I designed my own tattoo, which is why it looks like shit.

I designed my girlfriend’s tattoo, too.

We both pretend it doesn’t look like shit.

If you like we can meet at Vida and brainstorm a logo for an electro label.

Add me on facebook.

I’ll make you look hot.

Nice grade.

Bro.

An art director has breakfast.

An art director has breakfast.

An art directors lounge.

An art director's lounge.

An art directors house.

An art director's house (they get paid waaay less than copywriters).

Female art directors make nests in which to give birth to their young art directors.

Female art directors make nests in which to give birth to their young art directors.

An art directors hat.

An art director's hat.

A young art director with its mother.

A young art director with its mother.

An art director filing its tax returns.

An art director filing its tax returns.

Where do blogs come from?

One of my twest friends, Dplanet, posed a very NB twestion (twitter question) today: Where do blogs come from? Leon Jacobs said they happen when 2 blogs fall in love, but there is a step that precedes blog love. It is the step where a person ceases to be a human being and becomes a blog.

Not quite a who-man, but not quite a blog, either.

Not quite a who-man, but not quite a blog yet, either.

How does that happen exactly? It depends on the human being. (Or, who-man, being? See how our very existence challenges itself through a catchy mnemonic. Could be a cool line for an energy drink. Anyway.)

In my instance, I spent a lot of time writing / thinking / talking about / eating / drinking / sleeping / touching / feeling / singing with / dancing with / engaging with / social networking with brands. Then I realized that I was superior to other who-mans because they didn’t spend as much time focusing on brands and being branded and shiz. And then I exploded into a blog.

There were a lot of colours and chevrons, and then I was a blog.

There were a lot of colours and chevrons, and then I was a blog.

It wasn’t pretty. I *became* the idea of what my life is. Branded. S’all very logical and unromantic but the sooner you know the truth, the better.

A prerequisite to having a blog, however, is having the illusion of superiority. The great guru Woodchuck Chopra has spoken about this in his book Superio-Destiny (worth a read). As has Wheel Ronald Squelch in his best-selling Conversations With Blogs series (highly recommend). Conversations With Blogs made me understand that I am, in fact, a blog, and that everyone is also a blog at the same time.

We are all blogs, blogging about each other, being social media, being the medium, being the message, creating new jobs for advertising school graduates who really really <3 facebook, creating new jobs for socially inept techies whom we hire as ‘consultants’ to explain our existence back to us (seeing the wood for the trees and all that). Quite a sophisticated concept but Wheel Ronald Squelch makes it v accessible. Anyway now you know. LOLROFLMAOBRB4eva.

there’s a lot to be said for having a nemesis.

having a nemesis makes you work harder. a good nemesis should keep you up at night, while you try to outwit and outsmart them. a good nemesis should make you go to the Virgin Active every day, so you can be thinner or more buff than them. a good nemesis should keep your shoes clean, so you don’t look like shit when you appear next to them on a gameshow they’ve devised to make you look dumb.

i’m looking for a new nemesis. steve jobs had bill gates. who have i got? ppl who hate britney spears? ppl who forward around the Virgin Airlines ‘best complaint letter ever’ (for real? is it really so very funny?)? feeling rather thin on the nemesis front. sometimes i like to have a nemesis as a boss, because it makes you want to ‘prove them wrong’. but i like my boss. she believes in me. a nemesis should never believe in you. fear you, intimidate you, threaten you, maybe – but never believe in you.

that local politician who keeps singing that song about a machine gun used to be my nemesis, but he’s probably dying of AIDS, and that’s no fair. not sure why everyone’s so scared of him becoming president, because he’ll die of AIDS eventually (he doesn’t use condoms and sleeps with chicks who are HIV +).  it’s not very sporty to have a nemesis who is dying.

i guess in order to find my nemesis i should follow some sort of logical process and pick someone who stands against something i stand for. then i should decide what i stand for. i stand for: getting free stuff / buying stuff / having stuff bought for me / wearing cool stuff / listening to music on my various cool technological stuffs / reading about cool stuff / making cool stuff / running / dissing facebook.

now if i flip this and line up all the opposites, my nemesis should become immediately apparent. and my nemesis is…

stupid. clearly. who doesn’t like cool stuff? not sure that this is the most effective way of establishing a nemesis.

i’ll think about this over the weekend, and get back to y’ulle on monday. feel like whomever i choose as my nemesis will have a big impact on my personal brand.

i’m gonna add you. and then delete you. i’m gonna add you.

Strangers are just friends waiting to be met. Lets just be strangers.

Strangers are just friends waiting to be met. "Let's just be strangers".

today i’m going through my facebook friends list, and checking it twice. feel like some of your wide-angle profile pics aren’t really doing much for my reading pleasure. and now that marketing has reached glorious new heights, if i delete you, you’ll know. because i’m gonna get something out of deleting you. i’m gonna get a free burger. that’s right, a free burger.

Me and my best facebook friend. We have so much fun.

Me and my best facebook friend. We have so much fun.

it’s no big deal. we were never great friends anyway. i met you through a friend of a friend and you’d just read Hey Whipple and you thought we had soooo much in common. i accepted your friend request because i figured i might be able to use you for my own gain, some day. delete.

We had this amazing connection. Yeah. Its called the internet.

"We had this amazing connection." Yeah. It's called "the internet".

and it ain’t no thang with you either. we went to primary school together, back when it was still called ‘primary school’. i had a crush on you because i was limited for choice. now i see your insipid little face for what it is: white trash. delete.

Friendship is only real when the age gap is at least 15 years and you all sit on a bus together.

Friendship is only real when the age gap is at least 15 years and you all sit on a bus together.

as for you. i met you one night backstage at some band thing i was covering. back when i used to write for that cute little mag that liked to think of itself as a post-modern Rolling Stone. later that night you covered yourself in your own vomit. it’s the only thing we talk about, when i actually reply to your mails. delete.

Real friends like to get their digits stuck in finger traps for days (forces intimate conversation and sharing of living spaces, boyfriends, etc).

Real friends like to get their digits stuck in finger traps for days (forces intimate conversation and sharing of living spaces, boyfriends, etc).

and then of course, there’s you. i guess there was a time when i might have called you my ‘boss’. guess that was back before you revealed yourself to be a liar. you lied about the job description, you lied about company resources, you lied to your clients, and then you were caught plagiarising. real world’s a bitch. delete.

Youre not officially friends until you have an attic clubhouse where you can look at each others clothes and talk about having a yard sale.

You're not officially "friends" until you have an attic clubhouse where you can look at each others clothes and talk about having a yard sale.

hey. it’s you! we were best friends once. now we lurk around each other’s profiles, spying on each other’s friends, reading a little too much into everything. i still like you, though. you can stay.

Youre not friends until youre a band of white horses, running free and groovy through the electro orchards of contemporary Cape Town.

You're not friends until you're a band of white horses, running free and groovy through the electro orchards of contemporary Cape Town.

oh, but you. i don’t even know how i know you, though facebook says we have 15 friends in common. i don’t even know what you look like. you could be Sadam Hussein for all i know. but no. you are some arb with some arb name, polluting my news feed with your status updates and your photo tags and your notes. you send me requests to put me on your BFF birthday calendar, and you send me growing gifts. this isn’t healthy. i’m ending this for us. maybe some day our paths will cross and we will never even know that we were once fbook friends. until then, adieu. delete.

Were not friends until you adore me and carry me around.

We're not friends until you adore me and carry me around.

hey you. we once lived together, for a bit. we could have been best friends, but life – and a landlord – got in the way. every time i see your status i feel a little guilty because i should see you more. since i feel guilty about everything from putting an extra half spoon of sugar in my tea (bad G.I.) to not updating my blog to ignoring my phone on the odd Friday night (ok, every Friday night), i’m gonna scrape your name off my guilt platter, to give myself a break. love ya. delete.

Were not friends until we cross a cultural barrier and offend the people we love. So i can stroke your soft white feathers.

We're not friends until we cross a cultural barrier and offend the people we love. So i can stroke your soft white feathers.

oh, and you! we once worked together for that lame promo company. i was nice to you because everyone pretended to be nice to everyone. the truth is i think you’re bland, dull and gormless. delete.

*********************************************************2 more to go til burger time….******************************************

and then there is you, mr generic person who added me because all your friends added me. there’s no nice way to say this but…you’re lame. go tag a wall in Rondebosch or something. delete.

Were not friends until you take ambient shots of me with your Polaroid in your bedroom.

We're not friends until you take ambient shots of me with your Polaroid in your bedroom.

and lastly, we have you, friend of friends. you, who has not much else to talk about (not that we talk – by talk i mean ‘update your fbook status’) but how drunk you got last night. or how hungover you are this morning. it’s like being inside the Ground Hog Day of your Loser’s Complex. as fascinating as it is to read about how drunk you did / can / will / want to get, i’m sorry, it’s time for you to go now. delete.

Were not friends unless youre a little white bird that brings me dreams while i sleep.

We're not friends unless you're a little white bird that brings me dreams while i sleep.

and now. for my burger. mwah ha ha. see you in fbook hell, fuckers.