2009 – The Year in Status, Part IV: Straight Truth, Homey

If nothing else, 2009 was the year of the zinger. A popular place to toss off snappy, witty one-liners is the Facebook Status Update. Over the next few posts, we’ll present to you the very best. Feel free to add your own below …

If a man says something in the forest, and there’s no woman around to hear him, is he still wrong?

A hot chick who sucks in bed is like a bad summer blockbuster. all hype and visual effects but leaves you unsatisfied.

Frank Deford could sneeze and it’d be more witty and insightful than Mariotti’s magnum opus.

I realize Valentine’s Day is a capitalistic spook-story designed to stimulate industry from it’s mid-Winter slumber.

Basically, 2 actually sound lik a grl n print, all u need 2 do is use modifying adverbs, txt lingo n exclamation points!! 🙂

“They were in 3rd grade when I graduated high school.” “Oh well, they blossomed. A tomato was just seed once … you still eat it.”

I think barbecue sauce should come in shot glasses and be served as a chaser for rum.

I’m a selfish prick. A successful, hot, fun-loving intellectual. I’m young enough to do it often and old enough to do it right. I don’t have time for petty drama or emotional hysterics. I do what I want when I want.

I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want to be the coolest guy you know. I don’t want to be the one you can depend on. I don’t want to make you laugh. I only want to turn you on, and it’s the one thing I can’t do.

I would rather be the guy you complain about than the guy you complain to.

She made the boys come crawling as she crawled away.

I prefer golf to sex. Lucky for me, I know 18 girls.

When I hear someone use the word “besties”, as in “out on Chippewa with my besties”, I automatically deduct 40 IQ points from your estimated total. Double word score if you unnecessarily end every other sentence with lol. Oh, and your crew ain’t “Big Booty Hoes.”

You know what I love? Anonymity. I love waking up in the morning and knowing 6 billion people in the universe won’t give a sh*t if I live for die. I love knowing that my decision to boink meth-dealers while bagging your girlfriend impacts no-one. I love the freedom to kick small feral puppies with zero repercussions. Read it again. You’ll forget this tomorrow.

I find people who go out for coffee at night to be first-class fakers. What you’re really saying is, “I really wanted to take you out for drinks, but I am trying to pretend that I am sophisticated and introspective first.”

Facebook allows you to discover exactly how boring or annoying other people can become faster than ever before. It does the work of a month’s worth of co-working, three month’s worth of dating, or six months worth of friendship in roughly one quick wall scan.

Don’t rub the lamp if you don’t want to wake the genie.

The difference between a poser and a hipster? Posers pay very little to make it look like they’ve spent a lot. Hipsters pay a lot to make it look like they’ve spent very little.

Checks are a bygone technology. Stop asking for them. Stop paying with them. Nobody uses paper anymore. It’s the 21st century.

I love how Facebook guilts you like a Catholic mother by “suggesting” you “reconnect” with certain friends. “Write on their wall” they tell me. Then I see who’s wall. Then I laugh. What would I say? “Hey you! Sorry we lost touch for a few weeks/months/years. I was out LIVING MY F#$KING LIFE.”

Halloween: Where men are demons and women are whores. Or, as I call it … just another night out.

I can’t believe I have 10 friends who feel so strongly about wanting to voice their displeasure through a thumb icon that they are now fans of “Dislike Button” for a social network. Onward and upward, little grassroots movement of complete inconsequence and irrelevence. I hope this stirs your soul.

People on the whole are blander than a Matchbox 20 album.

If I were an apartment and you were an applicant, I’d be a Manhattan loft and you’d be receiving Section 8.

Etiquette for the Digital Age, Part XXXIX: If I call you, and you’re at work, don’t pick up the phone and say “I’M AT WORK, I OBVIOUSLY CAN’T TALK!!” Chances are, I’m trying to leave you a message. Next time, just don’t pick up. I promise you the world will work out okay.

Likeability and respectability form a tricky social venn diagram.

Only 18 and blowing hard? That’s how i like my women … not my weather.

The sad, pining and saddled only end up with fame, fortune and the girl in books and in movies.

I always wonder why people tell me, “Sorry for distracting you.” Listen, if you were that unpleasant … you wouldn’t be distracting me. I’d just ignore you.

You know what’s overrated? Christmas Shopping. The only time I’ve wanted to get that close to that many frazzled, high-strung women with money to burn … I spent the night in a sorority house. At the very least, my aggrevation yielded an attractive payoff.


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