Sunday, June 22, 2008

An Open Letter to Facebook

Hey Facebook,

It's Kranki here. I see you've been in the news a lot and you're getting more popular every day. That's awesome, congrats. Listen, you and I have spent a good amount of quality time together. Remember when we stayed up all night and I drank too much and passed out right next to you? I had the keyboard imprint on the side of my face. LOL! ROFL! Good times, good times... Anyway, I know you're busy and don't want to pressure you or anything because you know that's not my style. I do however need to made a simple request. Can you please make me look cooler? Please?

If I wait for my friends to do it, it'll never happen. They're far too busy finding terrible and embarrassing pictures of me to share. Pictures where I'm in some idiotic pose with a stupid prop or where my hair has grown out into a mullet because I was on vacation and didn't care. Pictures where I'm clearly going to be hung over the next day and doing something "zany" or "wacky." Or they'll find the one picture where I accidentally Frenched one of their dogs. That kinda thing. As you can imagine while it shows I have a fun side it doesn't really convey cool. And while I know I'm not some runway model with brooding good-looks I still think I deserve better from you, Face. I mean, I don't want to have to remind you that I left MySpace for you. I've only spoken through MySpace a handful of times in the past year. I've made a commitment to you. Lately though I've been having my doubts about your commitment to my happiness and my needs. So, I really need to know where our relationship headed. I didn't want to say it but with you my sex life has really gone down hill. MySpace was helping me get ass pretty regular. MySpace helped get me laid by nearly a dozen* women. What kind of action do I get from you? Zero. Sure you helped get me back in contact with some dear old friends from high school and college and you've certainly introduced me to some interesting Australians but get your act together, dude, they live in Australia. I'm here in San Francisco.

I'm getting off track here, it's not all about hooking me up with attractive women.** I also want to be taken a bit more seriously as a creative artist. Look, what I'm basically saying is you owe me for my loyalty. You need to start making me look like a cool, sophisticated, man about town. If you can't do that I may be forced to do something drastic. That's right, if you can't hold up your end of the deal I may be forced to leave the house to meet people. Let's both hope it doesn't come to that. Get it together, Face. I want to work this out. I love you, man.

p.s. I'm still kinda ticked off that you made me use my real name. So much for an intriguing mystery name that implies I'm a jaded malcontent with a playful edge.


* really just 7 times

** it isn't?