This weekend was pretty normal for me.
I ate some cheese. I had a few naps. I went to the movies.
And then I went on Facebook. And was hit with NINE different engagement announcements. Pictures of cute couples kissing on a beach. Or flashing a diamond ring to the camera. Or making love hearts with their shadows.
Don’t get me wrong. I am SO happy for them. Lovely loved up people whom I love.
It’s just that… you know… I was just eating cheese.
And then there’s the holiday photos. Is EVERYONE in Croatia right now? Is EVERYONE on a fucking sailboat, wearing aviators and a tan? Playing ‘hotdogs or legs’? Watching the sun set over Santo-frigging-rini?
It’s fine. I’m excited that people are broadening their horizons. It’s just that… you know… I went to Nunawading.
How many people in YOUR news feed are training for a marathon? Because in mine, it’s everybody except me. Photos of fluoro sneakers pounding the pavement at 6am. Screen shots of the running apps that track your movements via GPS, to prove how far you’ve pushed yourself.
I used my GPS tracking app to walk around the park until it had drawn a penis.
A friend of mine uploaded a photo of him climbing a mountain in Nepal at the same time I was lying on the couch with my phone in one hand and the remote control in the other. Another friend bought a two-bedroom house in the same week I had to forfeit groceries to pay for a parking ticket.
Seriously, it’s cool. I’m glad everyone is getting their shit together. I genuinely don’t mind.
I still got my cheese.