Rant: No, You're Not...

Recently, I've had this horrible fever... I think I've got a rant coming on.

Subject: Facebook Profile Pictures*
*Yes, this is totally relevant to life. 


All right.

I'm not sure if I'm the only one this happens to, but occasionally, I'll get random friend requests from people from other countries.

Never met or heard of any of these people in my life.

However, I don't mind this!

In fact, I think it's kinda cool that someone has gone out of their way to find me amid all the other 743 million other Kate's out there.

What I DO mind is when the people that find me are:

1.) 30 years older than I am.

2.) Send me creepy messages.

and, the most irritating, 3.) Don't have a real profile picture.

100% of the people who have found me on Facebook, who aren't directly linked to me through a friend or mutual educational facility the government calls "school," usually satisfy at least ONE of these three things.

Usually, the ones who fall under 1.) and 2.) slide quietly under the table.

I delete their message, pretending I never saw it, much like the way I react to seeing people making out in public or animals copulating with wild abandon.

It's the people who don't have real profile pictures that get me.

I can understand hiding your age on your profile or your important information.

You don't want people to know you're a 50 year old creeper with no wife or job. I get that.

But when you don't put up a photo of yourself?

That's just too much.

Why do you think they call it Facebook, you ignorant buffoon?

Who really cares if you're balding, overweight, and have a chinbeard?

That will just make the rejection process quicker, so you can go creep on other people!

....

Okay, okay.

If you choose not to put anything up as your photo and you keep it the blue and white person silhouette, that's all right.

There's hope there that you might one day pluck up the courage to show your hideous face.

HOWEVER.

There is one thing that will never be acceptable to me!

Cartoon/Animal. Profile. Pictures.

Daaaaaaaaaah!

...

I do understand that you don't want your identity known.

If you didn't want your identity known, then don't get a Facebook.

Troll: But Kaaaaate, what are we supposed to do when someone needs to get a hold of us.

Well, have you ever heard of:

~ Phones?

~ E-mail?

~ Letters?

~ Skype?

With the technology today, there is no lack of communication.

There are so many different ways that you can tell the person what they need to know.

Besides, how are the people going to know how to get a hold of you, if they don't know who you are?

Troll: But Kaaaate, how are our friends supposed to get our email/number if they have no way of contacting us?

Well, then they're not very good friends, now are they? 

Someone should have your information somewhere. 

There was communication before Facebook. 

I'm getting sidetracked! 

The point is: Animals/Characters as your profile picture is unacceptable. 

It's tacky. 

I mean, it not only makes you look shady, but it also gives an insight into your psyche, which sometimes is not the most savory information to be forcibly given. 

Listen up, N00b.

You're not a Disney Princess, you're not an assassin from a video game, you're not an Anime character, and you most certainly aren't a tiger's head photoshopped to a squirrel's body. 

-grumble-

You may disagree.

But, you know what? 

I don't care.

I'm done with this rant. 

Peace off.

Dammit Biology.

So, I want to be able to grow a mustache.

Why? Because no one takes me seriously.

I mean, I'm really not intimidating. At all. I'm 5'2" and 95 pounds (on a heavy day). So, when I try to be menacing, people end up:

A.) Laughing at me.

B.) Ruffling my hair.

or C.) Doing A. and B. while going, "Awwww" and speaking to me like I'm a mentally deficient animal with an extra leg.

After a while, it gets aggravating.

For once in my life, I'd like to be able to be like, "Oh, yeah?" BAM. Mustache. How could anyone react to that?

They couldn't.

What would you do if all of a sudden this face

had a mustache?

You'd soil yourself at the sheer terror my mustache would instill!

Of course, I don't want to grow a mustache and then have to keep it because that would take away from my feminine wiles. Of course, after seeing that face up there, I doubt you'd believe I had any feminine wiles to begin with. (Ignore how awkward my hair looks. It really is the same length on both sides, you just can't tell in this picture.)

I'd like to be able to grow a mustache, but then have it fall right off afterwards, like one of those sticky hand things you get in those 25 cent machines at cheap restaurants that stick to a surface for a grand total of 3 seconds and then are never sticky again. It would be glorious.

It could be used in many situations, not just to make people take me seriously.

If someone cut me off in traffic, I'd drive up next to them (if there is an available lane) and grow a mustache at them.

If they saw my awesome display of manliness, they'd be sure to have a wreck and then I'd never have to deal with them and their road-assery ever again.

If they don't, then it will fall off and I'd have an extra mustache in my car that I could sell to any prepubescent boy for thirty bucks.

If there's a chump at the office who keeps eating my food and "borrowing" paperclips, I'd grow my mustache several hundred times until I had enough mustaches to make a cat. Then, I'd scatter them all over their office space.

When they come back and witness the colossal amounts of mustaches, they'd be humbled by my advanced ability to sprout hair and come to realize the errors of their ways.

I could pose as a Jehovah's Witness and, when the gullible soul that answered to my knock appears, I'd ask them, "Have you found Jesus today?" They'd politely agree since they really didn't want to talk to me because they'd rather be watching Jersey Shore and eating fat free yogurt.

But before they can shut the door in my evangelizing face, I'd shout, "I DON'T THINK YOU HAVE!" Then, BAM. Mustache.

 Now, they found Jesus. (That was really sacrilegious. I'm sorry to those who are sensitive about that, but Jehovah's are a laughing matter.) They'd be an instant convert.

And that's just the beginning.

I could use the extra mustaches to stuff the inside of a homemade pillow.

I could use them as fish bait because every good angler knows that all fish all want facial hair.

Using my awesome skill and the power of YouTube, I could end up on Oprah and then begin showcasing my superhuman mustache power around the world.

But, NO. Biology will never let me have my dream. Never. Because I'm a girl and girls don't grow 1337 awesome mustaches that fall off after three seconds.

Well, screw you, DARWIN.

I'll grow a mustache if I want to!

Put that in your pipe and BLOW ON IT.

I'm out of here. I'm going to go set a pair of shoes on fire and throw them on a telephone line.

Peace off.