Facebook junkies

Okay, so I’m addicted to Facebook.
Was probably only a matter of time. It wasn’t long before status updates weren’t enough to feed my newfound vice, and I yearned for a taste just to get by. Nowadays, you’re likely to find me selling my ass in the Widget Factory just so I can pimp my pad in YoVille.
Time to detox.
I’m now weaning myself off her bittersweet wiles. I’ll only allow myself the one virtual world, and I’ve ditched the dumbass quizzes. But between birthdays, having a chinwag and updating my YouTube player, it’s all become too much like hard work.
In my recovery, I thought I’d share a few tips to keep you on the wagon.
Be clear why you’re there. If you joined for a little vocational zhooshing as I did, by all means have some fun, but know your limits. And sidebar -” can we all agree it’s not a dating site? Also, make sure your privacy settings are optimised, as the defaults are designed to get your peeps hooked.
Remember, employers are now logging on to check on staff. So if you must score a face-fix on company time, at least configure your profile so HR can’t see you just found a lost cow in FarmVille when you were supposed to be working on that overdue report.
Then we have the self-appointed cyber-spokespeople. I guess it’s no surprise given the egotistical blueprint of the book, but I’m often torn between amusement and genuine pity by those asserting their very existence, thriving on commentary to avow their virtual popularity.
Call me crazy, but it’s not real interaction, people. And unless you’re a troll or stalker, try accepting the fact that others aren’t glued to your profile 24/7. The lengths some book-hos go to tarting up their wall speaks volumes.
And what is it with ego-freaks assuming we’re aware of everything they’ve posted? I’m lucky to remember who they are, let alone seen their page. Are you really that important?
Forgive me if I seem a little cranky. Four days and I’m still in withdrawal.