Deactivated

A few months ago, I deactivated my Facebook account, deciding instead to live in the real world (population: me). With my account, I also deactivated my social life. For all meaningful purposes, I have ceased to exist except in memories and/or nightmares of those who used to consider me a sort-of-FB-number-booster friend. Do I miss having friends? No, they’re totally overrated and much harder to please than Burrito the Cat, my midget roommate. Sure, there are things I miss about Facebook: Cat Painting the shit out of people’s deliberately posed profile pictures; repeatedly expressing my love for airport bars; single-handedly keeping Will Farrell movies alive, making snotty comments in response to emotionally charged inspirational posts, and otherwise looking for opportunities to trash my acquaintances. What don’t I miss?  Really shitty spelling.  I’m convinced that, in addition to “Pirate” as a language option, one can also select “Second Grade Speller.” There is no other excuse, except maybe drugs.

But, because I quit Facebook, I have no other outlet for my posts about nothing.  I think about and do a lot of nothing during the day, and it would be a shame to think that I no longer have the opportunity for people to ignore my ruminations on absolutely nothing. What better to remedy this huge hole in my life than a blog with no readers and/or followers. So, welcome to Cats In Your Pants, a blog dedicated to nothing, directed at no one, and motivated by boredom, alcohol, and cats.

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