Sally has lost all of her interpersonal skills. She now resides within social media. She checks in everywhere, tweets hourly, and is constantly snapping iPhone pictures and uploading them. You used to like Sally and enjoy her company. You now consider tossing her phone into a margarita blender.
She always wants to pose with you when you’re not feeling at your best. Then, she hands her phone to a gap-toothed cretin who hasn’t progressed beyond a flip.
- Sally returns to pose, hugging you a bit inappropriately.
- He points the iPhone in the wrong direction. Sally corrects him.
- He counts to three and pushes the edge of the phone. Sally corrects him.
- He counts to three, but at two Sally stops him because he’s covering the lens area.
- He counts to three and nothing happens, so he turns the iPhone around to investigate; it flashes in his face; Sally now has a picture of his nose. Sally tells him there’s a delay.
- He counts to five, thinking that would solve the timing issue. The phone flashes at seven.
- Sally takes the camera, checks the photo, and realizes you had your eyes closed. Your drink is nearly empty and you’d rather suffer an under-nail splinter than a retake.
- He tries again, but someone walks in front as he takes the picture.
- He tries again, but an idiot is holding rabbit ears up behind your head.
- He tries again, and you sprint away before she can force another shot.
Sally spends close to five minutes posting the photo to Foursquare and Facebook while tagging everyone within a twenty-foot radius. You’re notified on your phone. Your mother texts you suggesting you may have a drinking problem. “Thanks, Sally.”
A nice gentleman approaches and asks the usual questions a stranger poses to someone he’d eventually love to penetrate. Sally notices and screeches about how cute you two are. She deploys the dreaded iPhone and demands a photo. The new guy stands next to you and smiles. That’s not good enough for Sally.
“Come on, you two. You’re acting like strangers. Get closer.”
“Sally, I just met him.”
“We’re all friends here. Hug her, Mister … hey, what’s your name?”
“Hug her, Trevor. She’s a hottie.”
Great. You permit the cuddle. One picture isn’t enough. She takes six, thinking she’s doing you a favor. Sally needs a beating. Sally remarks about what a nice couple you make, but she doesn’t show you the pictures, which she posts and tags. You receive a text message from your mother reminding you to use condoms. Your ex-boyfriend sends you a text calling you a heartless skank-ho. You leave the bar and plot your revenge.
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