Dear Vice,
I am pissed off. Nay, shall I rephrase last said? I can be AND grossed the fuck out AND articulate. I am severely displeasured. I feel deeply violated in my internet rights. Mother desecrating Facebook killed my entire account without any notice, previous censorship or even compassion over one magnificent picture. When I try logging in, I am served with: “Your account has been disabled. If you have any questions or concerns, you can visit our FAQ page here.” Read more »
Have you noticed how everyone is bitching about something this summer? It’s either, “It’s too rainy!” or “My favorite celebrity hung himself with pantyhose!” If you are into obsessively checking blog posts on the weekend like I am, I mean really going to work on refreshing and refreshing and refreshing until you get sweaty and nauseous with self-hatred, you will also notice that aside from a general lack of fun, a great deal of people are out there bleeding into their waistbands over a broken heart of some sort. Now, we all know how great it is to make fun of the people we’re dating, bitch about how caged we feel during the duration of the relationship, and then do the Charlie Brown shrug dance all over town once we are inevitably no longer by their side. But what happens if you decide to try to get that object of mental and physical anguish back? Follow the steps below and your Facebook will say “In a Relationship” again in no time.
Long ago I heard about a project that intended to connect all the computers in the world and use them to decode the electromagnetic signals coming from the outer space. It had something to do with all the stuff involving alien life. If they send us a message, we must be prepared, although that’s a little bit like looking at your cell phone all the time, waiting a call from Angelina Jolie, even though she doesn’t know you at all. Well, the thing worked via some kind of screensaver that decoded signals while you were not using your machine. Your computer helped to illuminate the mysteries of the universe while you were having a good time in the bathroom.
The noble Dick Van Dyke, who perhaps never heard of the Deed Poll
Before I changed it, my last name was Teat. So perhaps it’s a little hypocritical of me to make fun of people like Dick Long (who was friends with my ex), Michael Jackson (who worked at the supermarket by my parent’s house) Phil Collins (who went to my school), James Brown (who also went to my school and had never heard of the other James Brown) and Patrick Peepeepee-Patvong (who went to school with my boyfriend, though we don’t really know how to spell it). But, I did change it, so now, like the child-abused becoming the child-abuser, the vicious circle continues, and through the power of Facebook, I can make fun of whoever I want without fear of getting beaten up. Meet Randy Bumgardner…
