It’s a rainy Saturday; I’m on my second bloody mary of the day, and I’ve been sitting back, catching up on the latest dog meme drama. Apparently, a couple weeks ago, the dog meme page, Floof Bork Snoot ‘N’ Boop Inc, was taken for ransom by the owner of the smash-hit sensation, Doge.

Now, I really don’t know all the details, but people were commenting violently on the FB page, threatening death to the Doge guy, and telling him that the page had lost all its authenticity. The Doge guy was defending himself, being all, “I’m doing this because I was asked to! You’re all being so mean!” but people just got even meaner, calling him a liar and telling him to rot in Heck.

The original owner of the page started a *new* Facebook page, called “Floof Bork Snoot ‘N’ Boop Ltd.” rather than “inc.” and his loyal pack of fans heeled alongside him, unfollowing FBSNBI ASAP.

I was just searching Facebook for Floof Bork Snoot ‘N’ Boop Inc., though, the old and stolen page, and I can’t find it.

Could it be that the orig page owner won the battle and the Doge guy had to give up Floof Bork Snoot ‘N’ Boop Inc!?

Or am I just searching it incorrectly?

Either way, it’s such a fascinating rabbit hole into the greed and hostility behind pupper meme politics. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

A couple of my friends are attending professional workshops today. Another friend is hosting a weekly event that helps elderly people learn how to use technology. I know multiple people running the Brooklyn half marathon today. I could hear crowds of people cheering them on this morning. I’ve seen the instagram pictures of them eating pizza at the finish line in Coney Island, looking super satisfied. And I’ve just been layin’ in bed, drinkin’,  researchin’ “cool tattoo ideas,” and catchin’ up on dog meme drama.

The Type A trapped inside my hulk shell may be screaming that I need to accomplish things when I have downtime, but my weekend hulk shell is like, YOLO BITCHES, IT’S BRUNCH TIIIIIME, and I end up feeling v lazy and conflicted.

I try to console myself by thinking of how impressed my 15 year old self would be with my 27 year old life. Even though I’m by no means wealthy (I still have to think about whether or not adding guacamole to my dish is worth it) or classy (I will take the $9.00 bottle of Barton’s vodka, thank you), I live in the city, in a funky-shaped old apartment that has a fire escape I can sit on in the summer, I have an interesting job in a hip office where people have piercings and care about sustainability, and I have a sweet handsome boyfriend and the cutest dog I’ve ever seen.

I’ve made some really stupid, risky, fun choices in my 20s, and I have the wisdom not to repeat all of them, but the freedom to repeat a few of the funner ones. All in all, I’m ballin’, and the 15 year old me who thought buying a brown t-shirt at JCPenny’s that said, “DIFFERENT” on it was cool, would be highly impressed with my coolness nowadays (even despite my lack of printed statement tees).

That said, I do need to buckle down when I have free time. At least a little. Not that I want to run a half-marathon, but I’d like to finish a thing. There are other battles in the world beyond that of a (magnificent) dog meme page.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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