I Hate Your Vacation Updates on Facebook
A good vacation trumps everything in life. Food, sex, beer, whiskey, heroin, you name it. And I'm talking real vacation, a relaxing vacation, not the kind of vacation that includes hiking up right-angle cliffs just to the peak down the throat of an active volcano, or rafting down level 5 rapids waiting to be spilled overboard so you can crack your head open like a coconut on one of the several thousand jutting rocks, or getting inoculated against malaria and Ebola while safariing through a war-torn African country that's been overthrown by cannibalistic militants with a penchant for beheading fat, white Americans. Fuck that shit. I'm talking my ass sitting in a beach chair, feet buried in the sand, beer in hand, shades resting firmly on the nose like motherfucking Magnum P.I. scoping out a never-ending parade of 1985 Miami tail. That's my kind of vacation. Can't get enough of that shit. That other shit can be left for my alternative life where I do all kinds of cool shit and travel to exotic locales. Alternate me is fucking busy, by the way. He juggles a very high-profile life with the adoration of his family, friends, and colleagues. He knows how to sail. He owns many, many pairs of expensive Paul & Shark shirts and sips Macallan after running the high stakes baccarat tables in Monte Carlo...
Do you know what isn't on my mind while I'm sitting at the beach, basking in the hot sun, preparing for my next nonathletic sprint into the crashing waves? Facebook. Couldn't be less interested in who changed their profile pic. Don't give a shit who's relationship just disintegrated into a million pieces of tears and public humiliation. I am only mildly interested in that shit while I'm at work, trying to forget how much I hate working. But not on vacation. I am at the beach. I am staring at one of Mother Nature's fucking masterpieces. I am eating seafood and plowing through a whole box of Flavor-Ice every night and showering outdoors*. I am drinking multiple beers at 12pm and not feeling like an alcoholic. Unless it's to check a box score or the MLB trade block, I don't want to see a fucking keyboard. And I especially do not want to log into to Facebook. I'd rather eat a hamburger covered in mercury.
But there are some people who insist on telling the world just how awesome their vacation is while they're still on it. They actually take time away from their temporary Utopia to make a status update. "Weather is amazing here, 78 and sunny. Just drank a Pina Colada while riding a Dolphin. On my way to eat a 5 lb lobster and then off to an all you can drink luau on a 973 foot yacht with LeBron James and Prince William." Well fuck you, sir, you can go fucking trip and fall into a bonfire. The weather is not beautiful here. It's 100 degrees. I am walking dehydration. You could melt a glacier against my face. I smell like a homeless person. Pulling my sweaty socks off at the end of the day is the equivalent of winning the lottery. And the closest thing to refreshment is holding a luke-warm bottle of water to my head, curling into a ball, and lying under my desk where no one can find me while I weep and fan myself with a manila folder.
But you, oh you NEED to remind me how amazing your vacation is. Oh, you even added a picture to show me how awesome the view is from your $1,500 a night room. Well, I hope you step on a fucking sea urchin and your foot swells up and you look like the fucking Elephant Man. I hope you catch a ride with a local cab driver and he skids off the road while trying to change his Bob Marley "Legend" tape and drives off a cliff. Who the fuck thinks of doing shit like this? "Wow, this place is beautiful, baby! Oh, you want to go to the beach? That sounds great, but first let me take a picture of this sunrise and post it on my Facebook wall. Everyone will fucking adore me after I do this, and not think I'm a self-absorbed cocksucker who can't help but rub good fortune in other people's fucking faces."
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate a good vacation album after the fact. If you return from vacation and want to show off where you went, I'm all for it. Ohh wow, look at Billy, he wore a fucking beret! What a fag...
But uploading shit as you tour the south of France? Fuck off.
When you add photos from your still-happening vacation, you remind me just how awful day-to-day life can be. I have meetings to go to. I have to wear this soul-sucking fabric invented to suffocate pores. I have to wade through a crowd of slow-walking, blackberry addicted dickbags. Stop. Do you want to to come over and throw a grenade through your fire escape window? No, of course you don't. SO STOP POSTING PICTURES OF YOUR PRIVATE FUCKING LAP POOL, FUCKFACE!
*Showering outdoors is the best thing ever invented. I could spend 37 hours straight showering in an outdoor shower. I want to install one in my driveway. That cool breeze kissing your feet? The hot water mixing with the salt air? The smell of cedar and soap? I call that Heaven, my friend.