I don’t want anyone to be alarmed, but I’m being followed by a meme. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice it before. I can only assume I’d noted its presence on the second, third and fourth spotting on my go-to social networks and news outlets. I was ignorant to its persistence, and I was almost charmed with recognition. “You again,” I thought. “Come here often?”
Now I want to exercise some caution here, mostly because I’ve failed to exercise at all today and I’ll takes it where I can gets it, but also because I don’t want to brand this meme prematurely. I don’t know how it works with stalkers, exactly, but if it turns out they need to register like sex offenders and reveal their prior transgressions via court order every time they move to a new neighbourhood, then I’ll withhold the branding.
That seems a bit extreme, y’all. I’m just a little creeped out, it’s not a full on “A” from “Pretty Little Liars” level of stalking here.
Now that all the men have cleared out with my PLL reference, allow me to explain.
I’ve been perusing Instagram, Facebook and occasionally Twitter daily for the usual photo gawking and hard news consumption that they provide. I do my own visual editing by skipping over the virtual fist shaking responses to local news and the (likely) phoney “best husband EVER” posts on Facebook. I am quick to unfollow an Instagrammer who doesn’t subscribe to my agenda of hearty, indulgent, Soul Food-y and often Type 2 Diabetes inducing foods mixed with clean eating, veggie-ridden eats and the ripped, toned bodies said eating produces. I enjoy the extremes. With my trusty visual editing, I generally emerge victorious. I am adequately distracted, amused, and several unwanted brain cells lighter. Success.
Now, I’m rarely wrong and generally happy to jump on the bandwagon of delightful memes. “Shit __ says?” I was all up in that. I guess I just wrongly assumed this one wasn’t pithy enough to take. Memes need pith, amirite?
Despite the obvious pith-lacking, the meme popped up again a few days later. This time it was some random beauty blogger I follow on Instagram. “Alright,” I thought. “I guess I find that just minorly less annoying than anything anyone has ever posted about coffee.”
A couple more days passed, and I thought the meme had moved on. I really did. I thought it had moved to that large farm upstate with other tired albeit moderately entertaining memes like crazy girlfriend praying mantis.
And then she was back, y’all. Some comedian I follow on Twitter claimed she “can’t adult today.” “Wait a minute,” I thought. “Is this the new Garfield ‘I hate Mondays’ thing? Surely you haven’t all tired of that rotund orange delight?”
I don’t know, you guys. I’m starting to think you have. “I can’t adult” has literally taken over my Instagram feed in a matter of weeks. It’s coming from all directions – beauty bloggers, lifestyle bloggers, foodies, chefs, minor celebrities, their spouses, sometimes even friends.
I want to take some formal action here. Maybe I could create an alternate meme that meets my expectations of hilarity and ingenuity. Or I could start some serious editing and abandon my visual editing that allows me to maintain some virtual bonds we all know don’t need to be maintained. But the truth is, it all sounds like a lot of work. And today I already dealt with taxes, immigration stuff, and even did housework. Ugh, adult stuff. I just can’t.