SongPop; or How I Quit Ridiculing Facebook Farming

My name is Stephanie, and I am addicted to a Facebook game. It has been 15 minutes since I last played.

I have been on Facebook for five years. In those five years, I managed to be a relatively active Facebooker without playing a single solitary game they offered – the exception being the time I let a friend’s daughter play Happy Pets on my account.

So I laughed at your bogus agricultural skills. I mentally put hits out on you for playing Mafia Wars and clogging my feed. I ridiculed your virtual fish tanks. I wished pestilence on your pot farm. I mocked and tossed mental poo poo at your zoo. (A sentence I never thought I’d type.)

In other words, I did what people do when they don’t get something. I made fun of it.

…  If you’re a swinger, great. That works for your life. But don’t invite me to your key party.

Now, some people totally own the fact that they play these games, and I think that’s great. Whatever keeps you occupied is not my business until you send me 30-some-odd requests to play along.

It’s like this: If you’re a swinger, great. That works for your life. But don’t invite me to your key party. Because I really will tell everyone we know, because I am a horrible person and can seldom help myself.

Now, allow me to get on to the business at hand, which is my own hypocrisy. I am now addicted to the Facebook equivalent of “What’s This ’80s Hair Band Tune?”- the Facebook song-guessing game called SongPop (which is two syllables, much like “bath salts” is two syllables).

I don’t even remember my first time playing. I may have blacked out. I am not sure who invited me to play, or why I was bored enough to try it. I thought it would be cool, make me look grown up, you know, like, whatever, man.

Whoever lured me into this honey trap probably said something like, “It’s the best high ever, you crash within two minutes, and withdrawals are a beast,” which, of course, made me try it. I’m not sure – it’s all a blur now that I am selling my stuff on for SongPop coins.

You may think I am funning or exaggerating (as my Mama says, I am the queen of exaggeration, which is just her exaggerating how much I actually exaggerate), but I am now, because of this painful addiction, forced to relive nightmares where I accidentally hit the wrong song choice bar, and I have to curse so long that I miss hearing the next song. Other times, I have been beaten by a cheap three points (I see you reading there, J. Roberts! That’s like one fricking second better!) and have been forced to play multiply games until I am again thrashing my opponent by at least 3 rounds (it feels like more of a tie otherwise).

I have also degraded myself to challenging people who I know are less inclined to know any sort of music that is not in a Disney movie (like my 13-year-old’s Facebook friends) just so I can beat the snot out of them and strut all through the house like a prize-winning Senior Olympian, screaming, “In yo face!” At my lowest point so far, it accidentally posted on my wall that I could guess an El DeBarge song in 0.7 seconds. This is not a confession sane people make.

I was already too competitive, but now this obsession is running my life. It has to stop.

So I took a few minutes to type this up, complain about it, and now I’m off to kick the ass of Michelle D. again. Oh, wait. Hey, don’t forget to CHALLENGE ME, you guyssss!RedShtick-Top-ColumnStop

About Stephanie Landry

Stephanie Landry is a lover, not a fighter, with the exception of some inanimate objects. Sing out to her here, or stand at her window with your boombox blasting your mixtape. Either way.

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