The Worst People You’ll Meet on Facebook

First, let me start by saying I am not strictly anti-Facebook. Sure, it’s full of annoying morons, but so isn’t the grocery store. I still need food.

Also, Facebook gives us a chance to keep in touch with people we couldn’t otherwise. I enjoy watching the people I went to high school and college with go on adventures, or see their kids dressed up in Halloween costumes, or start a band.

Baby in Halloween Costume

Yeah, okay, I’ll allow this.

And hopefully they aren’t terribly annoyed by my writing. But hey, they can hide me. Fuck ‘em.

Plus, Facebook is a fairly efficient event planner. Most everyone you know is on it. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t get invited anywhere if it wasn’t for Facebook.

But there are certain people who somehow manage to rise above and say things so tragically stupid that this… this will be my monument to them. I can’t even hate them, because Facebook wouldn’t be the same without them.

 

Just Believe in Yourself and Be Happy!

You know ‘em. They’re constantly posting inspirational quotes on backdrops of sunsets and mountains and shit. They tell you that each obstacle is just another step to prove yourself. I’m not sure if that counts if you got your legs blown off in a weird mining accident, but whatever, this person once overcame a headache and an upset stomach in one day so get to it!

Listen, go ahead and be motivated. Great. I’m happy for you.

But please stop telling me to be happy or to keep my chin up. You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m going through. I’m allowed to feel however the fuck I want.

Thanks.

Inspirational quote

For instance, heroin.

I Used to Be An Autonomous Human Before My Child

I get it. You love your kids. They’re adorable. Totally.

You want to capture every moment. Their first step. Their first word. Their first diarrhea (you got that on film, right?!).

Weird Looking Baby

Oh, yes.. your… child is… lovely.

But you don’t need to set your profile pic to be your kid. You are more than just a parent. For fuck’s sake, you used to be a real person with dreams, hopes, aspirations. At least hobbies. Interests.

Now you’re just a picture of your kid riding a bike. Listen, your kid’s cool, but I’m not friends with them on Facebook for a reason, and it’s only partially due to certain laws.

(Wow, okay, too far.)

Hey, Check Out This Sepia-Toned Meal I Just Posted!

This is more of an instagram problem, but still rears its head on Facebook since a lot of people post everything on Instagram to Facebook anyway.

You’re a good cook and/or went to an awesome restaurant. Cool. I’m happy for you.

Three People Taking Pictures of Food

Psst. You look like an idiot.

But unless I get to eat that shit, I don’t want to see it. It’s like taking a picture of a giant pile of money. I want it. I can’t have it. Stop being an asshole.

The Vague Drama Kings and Queens

“Ugh. Why do I ever trust people. They’ll just stomp on your heart every time. That’s what I get for believing in love.”

You have no idea who the fuck they’re talking about. Probably that girl he met two weeks ago when he was all, “So lucky to have her <3<3<3.” Now, predictably, this poor, innocent person has had their heart broken. Or betrayed. Or whatever it is this month.

James Vanderbeek Crying
Oh, you poor thing.

Of course, the only thing better than watching this is all of the people who suddenly rush in, “Oh, don’t worry, you’re a beautiful/handsome/wonderful person, people are the worst, keep your chin up!”

I’d be disgusted, but mostly I’m amused.

The Body Worshippers

It used to just be a guy thing. Posting pictures of scantily clad women. We all knew it was trashy, but hey, some guys are just ridiculous.

But more and more, I’m starting to see it with women. Listen, I get it. Alexandar Skarsgard, Joe Manganiello, and Adam Levine are all incredibly hot. I get it. (Well, not really, I think Levine sucks, but that might just be my undying hatred of Maroon 5.)

Suddenly my news feed is full of totally cut dudes not wearing shirts. Celebrities, musicians, soccer players. You name it. It can give a guy a complex.

But hey. Equality’s a motherfucker.

AlAlexander Skarsgard shirtless
Hm. Maybe I am gay after all.

The Gym Rat

You never lose track of your gym rat friends on Facebook because don’t worry, they’re telling you exactly where they are. Every. Damned. Time.

Oh, hey, you go to the gym? Cool. I also go to the gym. The difference is that I know my life is not so endlessly fascinating that my mere gym trips are worthy of status updates. I mean, I guess what’s the point of even going to the gym unless you tell everyone, right?

The Arguers

Okay, I admit… this one’s my fault a bit. What can I say. I’m a bit of an argumentative bastard, believe it or not. When someone posts something stupid on Facebook, whether it’s about guns or vaccines or the totally legitimate worldwide Jewish conspiracy, I want to let it go. Really, I do.

Jewish Conspiracy on Map
Oh god, they’ve figured us out.

But I fucking can’t.

And I know it’s annoying. I know watching an endless argument with two people who barely know each other is not exactly everybody’s idea of a good time. I’m sorry. I’M SORRY OKAY.

Endless Self Promotion

You’re such a hot shot photographer! And/or business owner! Awesome. But you never stop talking about it. Your entire Facebook profile is essentially an advertisement for you and how clever you think you are on your blog.

Oh. Right. Fuck.

Guts and Glory on the Kickball Field

You’re just standing there, enjoying the warm breeze as the sun shines down, warming your skin. The gentle buzz of a few beers hums through you as you wait for the pitch. The emerald green grass of the outfield sways gently beneath your cleats. You’re just happy to be standing there.

The ball launches into the air, sailing like a majestic bird which has been shot mid-flight. With a brick.

And it’s coming right at you. The fear. The anxiety. Everybody’s watching. You hold out your arms.

Your attempt at catching the ball with your face does not end well. The red ball bounces away as a teammate runs toward you to help.

Kickball hitting face

The average technique used by most of the outfielders on my team, it seems.

You’re embarrassed. Everybody’s judging you. You let the team down.

Except everybody’s too drunk to care and that was only one mistake in a series of hilarious mistakes.

Welcome to Kickball.

Wait.. people still play Kickball?

Fuck yeah they do. Thanks to Waka’s proliferation, kickball leagues are spreading faster than pre-vaccine HPV. Go ahead. Go to kickball.com. I bet you there’s a league near you. And if there isn’t, well, man, I don’t know, do you live in the bayou? Cause it sounds like you live in the bayou. (Sorry, been watching too much True Detective lately.)

Otherwise, chances are, there’s a league near you and it’s filling up fast. With grown adults. Well. “Adults.”

Adult with YOLO tattoo

Bear in mind, this “adult” is allowed to vote.

Soon, you’ll realize that you’ve signed up to be part of an adult playground, where men and women join together to play the playground game you knew and loved. Except you can’t throw the ball at people’s heads because now some of us are athletic freaks who could decapitate a human being.

If you think about it, Waka filled a void filling in the lives of many young adults all at once: a place to meet fellow young-ish folks and share in an activity that gets everybody outside and only vaguely makes us all look catastrophically stupid.

Because let’s face it, most of us aren’t that good at soccer.

Sure, some of the teams are fanatics. They live and die by kickball victories. Seriously. It happens. Just wait. You’ll see.

But most of us are just trying to have a good time and not embarrass ourselves.

Partying with 500 of your closest friends

One of the difficulties of post-college adult life is one many can relate to: How do I make new friends and expand my social circle? Without the forced interactions of dorm rooms and classes, it’s not easy, especially for people who aren’t as naturally charming and gregarious as I tell myself I am in the mirror every morning before breaking uncontrollably into tears.

Sure, you can meet friends at the bar. Or the library. Or wherever Cosmo says in between tips about giving him blowjobs (wtf Cosmo, it’s not that hard honestly).

Cosmo Cover

75 Sex Moves, eh? Have you tried intercourse? Guys like that.

Kickball skips all that. They throw you on a team with a bunch of other people. You’re going to have to talk at some point. So hey, you might as well have a beer. That’ll make things easier! Oh, hey, did you see that kick! That was something else!

Next thing you know you’re both sharing your life stories while you grill up some hamburgers.

Oh, wait. Did I not mention the tailgating?

Yes. We totally tailgate kickball games.

I can only speak for the league I’m in (New Haven Ivy League WUT), but since it’s on Sunday afternoons, and we’re all already hungover from our previous bad decision-making, bringing a portable grill and making some nice, greasy food to absorb all those bad choices is just one more bad choice you’ll only partially regret!

Listen. Everybody loves a good tailgate. You’re outside. You’re summoning your long lost instincts to cook things over an open flame.

Deep Frying Grill

Yep. That’s right. You can deep fry shit. While tailgating.
I’ll give you a minute to think about that.

But not everybody loves football. For instance, communists.

Tailgating kickball games let’s everybody join the fun! On our team, we all try to bring something new and exciting! If you ever wanted to make a hundred friends really quickly, pulled pork is pretty much a guarantee. It’s just like high school. You can absolutely buy your friends.

But it also is like high school… in other ways.

The premise of social interaction is extremely similar to that of college: put a bunch of vaguely attractive young people into a small area, and let the booze and hormones do the rest!

As you can imagine, there’s quite a bit of… mingling… going on between games. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

But the dark side of kickball is that it tends to bring the shitty, high school sides of people. Suddenly you’ve got Mean Girls all over again, and not hilariously written by Tina Fey.

So fetch!

Stop trying to make fetch happen, Gretchen. It’s not going to happen.

For the most part, it’s not a big deal. After, high school is a closed system. You’re stuck with those assholes. Kickball? Hell, you don’t even know half the people. Nobody can “control” the social circle, per se.

But there will be drama. Holy shit will there be drama.

“Oh my god did you hear who she hooked up with? And he was just fucking that other girl two weeks ago!”

No, I didn’t hear, and no, I don’t give a shit. I hope they all used condoms and had a great time and the only people who were harmed were asking for it.

Goonies Never Say Die!

Kickball is like any other social circle. It’s full of people who are more casual acquaintances than friends. I can’t tell you how many people I smile and nod at, or even have conversations with, but I cannot for the life of me remember their fucking names.

But I know they can do the Wobble, which is strange as hell. Because like, what, are you practicing dancing specific moves in your free time? Seriously? The fuck.

Dance Mob

“So, uhhh… this is what you’ve been doing with your free time, huh?”

I have, however, made a few real friends. People who I care deeply about. Great people who I look forward to seeing every week. Who I root for until they face me, in which case I hope they collapse in an embarrassing heap.

I owe that to Waka and the kickball community in general.

And I wouldn’t trade ‘em for anything.

Well, except, I guess, for better friends and a million bucks.

The Very Best (and Worst) Bathrooms in New Haven

There comes a time in every man’s life (and woman’s!) when he just has to go. Sure, we probably all love our own home bathrooms the most. They’re comfortable. We vaguely knows whose butts have familiarized themselves with them. They’re ours.

But when you thrust yourself into the wide open world, you’re putting yourself at the mercy of any establishment with indoor plumbing. From the luxurious to the derelict, bathroom quality is something we all know about, but rarely talk about.

Except for me, because I was raised by poorly-mannered wolves.

Wolves

Though they’re awfully proud of my hardcore restroom analysis.

Over the last couple of years, I’ve been to a wide variety of New Haven haunts. I have tasted their delectable treats. Sipped their exquisite cocktails.

Relieved myself in their facilities.

So now I present to you… the very best… and the most horrifying bathrooms I have experienced in New Haven.

(Disclaimer: I still haven’t been to Union League, which I assume has fancy-ass bathrooms. Or John Davenport’s, which are probably overrated anyway. I’m sure I’ve missed a few others, so just relax. This isn’t a courtroom.)

The Best

5. Prime 16

It’s private. It’s a little bit dark, but it’s generally very clean. Plus, this one time, I was waiting for it to open up, and a guy walked out. So I walk in, and there’s another guy still peeing in there! I had a lot of questions. About life. About myself. About what happens in the Prime 16 bathroom that I have no idea about.

Contemplation

To this day, I meditate upon this experience.

4. Firehouse 12

It’s tucked away in the back, so if anything terrible happens back there, you won’t know about it right away. Which I guess is pretty good, right? It’s clean. It fits the decor of the rest of the bar. You get a bit of privacy between stalls.

And the waterless urinals have little bumblebees for you to aim for! It makes peeing a fun game! Everybody gets a prize!

3. Avro (formerly New Haven Meatball House)

I haven’t been to Avro yet but I’m going to go ahead and assume they didn’t tear out the bathrooms and replace them. They’re private. They’re roomy. You could probably play racquetball in there. Tastefully decorated, but not so well decorated that you get a little too comfortable.

I’m not sure why the Meatball House closed down, but it sure as hell wasn’t for low quality restrooms.

2. 116 Crown

While I may have mixed feelings about their luxurious cocktail menu, their bathrooms are almost peerless. Most of them are private (there is one weird one with three urinals). Dimly lit. Almost.. romantic? Am I supposed to feel romanced in the bathroom? Because I do. Oh boy do I.

Romantic Couple in Sunset

“Did you… also just use the 116 Crown bathrooms?”

Plus the sinks are pretty fancy, too, and they don’t make you use paper towels like some sort of peasant. No, they use real cloth. And they pass the luxury onto their drinks, I guess.

1. The Heirloom at Study

If you haven’t taken the time to get down to The Heirloom at the Study Hotel (not a confusing name at all, guys), you need to make a pit stop here, if only for their luxurious bathrooms. Well-maintained, elegant without being over-the-top. I’m surprised they don’t have a concierge in there giving me a shoulder rub while I stand at the urinal.

Is… is that the sort of thing I can pay extra for? I’m asking for a friend.

The Worst

5. Bentara

I love Bentara. I’m a Bentara apologist. Sure, the service can be spotty, but the food is fucking awesome.  The Goreng Kicap and Rendang are the real deal. But at some point, someone just like.. forgot that people are actually going to use the bathrooms. “Maybe they’ll never have to go!”

Robot

Bentara’s ideal customer, I guess.

Well, I do, and it’s gross. It’s not clean. There’s usually paper towels strewn everywhere. You’re supposed to be a classy place, Bentara, and you charge enough for your dishes. Get it together!

You’re making me say things like, “Yeah, it’s a great restaurant, but if you gotta go.. just… hold it.”

4. Anna Liffey’s

I love Anna Liffey’s. I spend more time there than I care to admit. The bartenders are great, you can always watch the game (whatever your pleasure), they have surprisingly good pub food, and they always have a drink special.

But that men’s bathroom downstairs? Yikes.

First of all, due to the close quarters of their basement area… if someone does something regrettable down there, you’re going to know about it. Everyone is going to know about it. It’s going to spread like an infection. You know what kills the mood of a party atmosphere?

Yeah.

The other, slightly more comical sin of the Liffey’s bathroom is that the air dryer hasn’t worked in a decade. So they have paper towels, right? Great. Except they’re on a shelf. Right above the urinal next to the sink.

That’s right. To dry your hands, you need to reach over someone who is actively urinating to grab a paper towel. Might as well pat him on the ass and wish him a good game while you’re at it since you’re such good friends now.

Two Men Standing Too Close at Urinal

“Sup bro?”
“Sup.”

3. Stella Blues

I am not sure I should be surprised that a bar which sells cigarettes and Hot Pockets (that’s right) has a pretty gross bathroom. They have an interesting mix of clientele, many of which seem to have lost the use of running water at home. Perhaps, to them… this is the closest thing to a shower they’ll get.

Plus, there’s no mirror, which is nice. What, you’ve got some weird gunk smeared all over your face? Too fucking bad, that shit is staying there, cause mirrors are for losers. I guess if you’re a girl you probably have your own but I’m not so it blows.

2. Lighthouse Park

“Okay, I am definitely going to get murdered in here.” This is generally my first thought when I walk into the bathroom at Lighthouse Park.

Gross bathroom with hole

“So, uh… is… that where the nightmares crawl out?”

I love Lighthouse Park. I think it’s an underrated New Haven gem. Free parking for residents. Great picnic area. A truly wild mix of people from all parts of New Haven. That gorgeous carousel.

And their charming murder bathrooms. Why don’t I just pee in the ocean like everyone else and the fish? I don’t know, man, why are you asking me so many goddamned questions? What is this, an interrogation?!

1. Mediterrenea

Whatever you do in your life… just pray you have never made some many consecutively poor decisions that you find yourself asking to use the bathroom at Mediterranea. Just hold it. Seriously.

Because as you walk through their dimly lit hallway, thinking you’ve just wandered onto the set of a horror movie… you’re only somewhat prepared for the bathroom.

Creepy Hallway

“So, uh, last door on the left, you say?”

Graffiti covers the stall walls. The ceiling looks like it might just cave in on you. If there’s toilet paper, you’re probably afraid to use it. You should be. I think I might’ve even seen a glory hole. I don’t know. I blacked out from shock for a second there.

This is rock bottom. This is the time to start thinking about what you’re doing with your life.

Weirdest: Briq

I want to like the bathrooms at Briq. They’re pretty nice. They’re private. They’re clean and I guess the sinks are pretty cool even if I feel like I’m washing my hands with a hose.

But nobody has any fucking idea which side is men’s and which is women’s. There’s a tiny little picture of either Marilyn Monroe or Dean Martin (I think). Nobody sees it.

So you’re bound to walk out of the bathroom and awkwardly bump into a girl doing her lipstick. Sexy.

Honorary Mention for Not a Bathroom But For the Single Grossest Place You’ll Ever Have to Go to the Bathroom: The Port-a-Potties on the Green

Not technically a bathroom, but for fuck’s sake, if you ever find yourself wondering whether you should brave one of the port-a-potties on the Green on a hot summer day or choose kidney failure…

… just choose kidney failure. Trust me.

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