There's a Facebook inside my Facebook's Facebook

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It's like I went to bed on a normal Tuesday night and woke up yesterday morning to find a Facebook like I had never seen before. Okay, like most things I talk about that happen in my life, that's an exaggeration. It wasn't really all that different, but according to the between 730 and 731 of my "friends" on FB (that number is subjective and the idea of our relationship is hypothetical, based on the fact that the Internet isn't a real place where we hang out), hell had gone beyond breaking loose. Actually, I'll just let Xzhibit explain what happened below the jump.

This meme (along with a great


) was plastered along the walls of Facebook, much like that

Living Social $20 for $10 deal

that hit FB last week and made the rich people's grocery store Whole Foods look (momentarily) affordable for us plebes. But the still-frame of an I-Can-Haz-Xzhibit was right on -- we now have a Facebook inside of a Facebook.

With this Facebook inside of my Facebook, I can see what other people are doing every moment of every day -- whether that means they are "liking" tartar sauce and Janet Reno, or just commenting on my neighbor's cousin's co-worker's newborn -- I know everything. I don't just get their status updates anymore, or their interactions with our mutual "friends" (which was another more recent and creepy addition to FB's psychotic web of interconnection). I get a look at every single keystroke my 1994 freshman year boyfriend's current wife makes involving FB. And for the record, she is a very interesting woman who's writing I love to read and who's baby I don't mind looking at.

But, is this what I needed? Is this what anyone needed? No. Facebook already allows us to puke unnecessary information, mindless commentary and general bullshit all over anyone who is virtually tuned in and listening. Now it just goes a step further and gets to think for us. I guess that's what happens when we surrender ourselves to a data-mining website that sifts through our me-me-me Hipstamatic-coated barf, looking for more things that it can tell us we might like to buy, watch, wear, smell, hear, eat, buy, do, think, desire and, of course, buy.

This evening, in one of the dozen or so things I posted in the last 24 hours, I asked in a status update why none of the twenty people who added me as a "friend" today turned out to be the man I have a crush on who I had a sex dream about last night. It turns out, even when Facebook reads your mind, it doesn't always read the right stuff -- like awesome sex dreams. This status did garner a record 129 comments in two hours (an FB winning I hadn't experienced since the March 2011 Tennis debacle, which caused people to walk up to me -- in real life, no less -- and ask me "if I was okay").

Does this new addition of TMI mean people are going to start jumping the FB ship like they are projected to do to Netflix once it becomes some dumb thing called Qwikster? Probably not. No one is really ready to give up their ego-rocket ship of a Facebook profile yet (I'm certainly not). So, suck up the changes, settle in to knowing your nail tech's mother's babysitter's husband's dress pant size, and watch this video from TED. And just a warning: Your response to this clip about death and Facebook will determine if you are the most selfish asshole on the planet -- or terrified that your family will make a shitty robot version of you once you've bit the IRL dust.

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