Don’t:

Using that sometimes-functional service, rather than email, text or (GASP) conversation, shows me that, for one thing, you’re a total coward and think it’s the safest way to release your wrath without having to stick around for a response.

And if you “ping” my Facebook page at 2 a.m. on a weekend, it shows me that you’re not only a coward, but also likely drunk and alone in your room, which makes you even more pathetic.

If you’ve got unfinished business, or you just want the opportunity to call me a douche/slut/bitchface, at least use a communication method that I might actually be inclined to look at. When Picasso was inspired to create his next masterpiece, he didn’t reach for the nearest Arby’s napkin and start painting. That shit only would’ve worked for Warhol.

You could be pouring your heart out in the most eloquent prose, but the fact that it pops up in a little box in the lower right corner of my screen makes me not only squint to read it, but also enticed to copy/paste and send it to all my friends. Why? So that we can laugh at you.

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