The first thing I do when I wake up is turn to my right, reposition my blue weighted triceratops named Mabel and grab my phone from the charger.
The second thing I do is go on TikTok. I make my rounds on the “For You” page, let out some giggles and then move on to X to find 30 GIFs of actor Hudson Williams’s ass dimples that I know won’t get taken down because this app is PornHub Jr. (not complaining by the way).
Social media is a tough subject. It’s absolutely detrimental to society. It’s toxic, disturbing and we are all unhealthily desensitized. But God, it is so funny.
You know when teachers would have cyber-bullying seminars in middle school and say something to the effect of, “People hide behind a screen because they can’t say the things they say online in person?”
They’re right.
Because how would I ever be able to insert a diabolical, nonsensical ship edit of San Jose Sharks forwards Will Smith Hockey — the “Hockey” is part of his surname — and Macklin Celebrini into a conversation?
I couldn’t. And that’s beautiful. And deeply parasocial even for me. Hope the cupcake baking went well.
At my big age, there aren’t many social media apps that appeal to me. Snapchat makes me want to throw myself off a cliff. I don’t even know why I still have that stupid ass ghost on my phone. And I’m sorry, but Instagram Reels aren’t funny. They’re so late to the party it’s embarrassing.
Also, what the fuck is Threads? Exactly, nobody knows.
But my X son and TikTok daughter, you are worthy of my attention. I do not condone your makers, but I will adopt you into my phone until the end of time.
The ooey-gooey feeling of climbing into bed and knowing I get an hour of doom-scrolling time as soon as my head hits the pillow is religious to say the least.
I remember when TikTok got banned. My dear roommate was distraught. There were tears. And honestly, she was so valid for that reaction. It was that serious.
TikTok is literally a Leo’s playground. Like, yes, let me rewatch everything I’ve ever reposted over and over because I am literally God.
I mean, the edits, are we joking? This is proof that the communications industry is alive and well. Every time I finish watching some form of media, without fail, I type the title into my TikTok search bar and am welcomed by a sea of horny, devastating (mutually exclusive by the way) little videos for me to dive into.
Did God make the edit of actor Timothee Chalamet in “Call Me by Your Name” to “Playdate?” No, that was man-made. Just like the Pyramids.
One might even call them the ancient texts.
X is definitely more crude. I absolutely adore being interrupted by conservative propaganda while I’m trying to live, laugh and love. But I just can’t bring myself to find a replacement to Elon Musk’s little monster because there isn’t one.
You can’t outdo the do-er. Yes, people are chronically online and need to be put down because some of their takes are so egregious I have to get up and take a lap.
Then I see actor Shawn Hatosy, Dr. Jack Abbott from “The Pitt” on my feed, posing in a sexy selfie captioned: “unc peepaw people’s princess oomf average everyday icon returns. stay mad. stay mystified.”
Immediately, I know I am a girl who is going to be OK.
America lowkey sucks right now. Social media is a massive issue that inflates our country’s problems because we’re just playing ping pong with everyone’s most extremist political views when we could be finding something called nuance.
But if the Democrats’ TikTok admin is posting Hobama edits in the great 2026, what’s the harm in finding these apps hilarious? That used to be their purpose.
It might really be that damn phone, but I’ll drink that Kool-Aid until my teeth are stained red.
