As if it’s not soul-destroying enough checking your dialled numbers/sent messages after a night out (apologies to the person I called six times last night – you know who you are. And most other people can probably guess), there’s now a new shameometer in town.
There I was (well, here I am) in the foetal position, clutching a can of Irn Bru and trying to convince myself that six is a perfectly acceptable number of times to ring someone between the hours of 1 and 2am, when a notification popped up on my phone.
From Instagram. “So-and-so liked your photo.”
Hmm, I thought, I wonder which photo. I haven’t posted any in the last couple of days.
Let me check.
Oh. Oh no.
Why on earth have I started posting drunk selfies?
I don’t really ‘do’ selfies when sober, due to not being particularly photogenic/a massive fan of my face.
But soak me in liberal amounts of alcohol and away I go! Apparently.
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
The bottom right’s your favourite, isn’t it? It was up for about four days before I ‘found’ it and took it down.
But seriously, what’s next?
WHERE WILL IT END?
How many other indicators of where exactly we should be on the shame spiral will modern technology provide us with?
Soon, we’ll wake up with a dry mouth, pounding headache and ten-point checklist.
Or, of course, we could just learn when to stop.
But let’s face it, if that hasn’t happened by the grand old age of 28, it’s unlikely to happen any time soon.
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
