We love the Internet. Except when we hate it. Every week, Jordan Valinsky bottles the angst of his Millennial generation and finds something to despise about the Web.
I am feeling more like a pumped up prick than usual right now, and you can blame Pinterest for that.
Well, you can actually blame an adorable picture of a bulldog hugging a human that I found on The Atlantic’s Tumblr blog earlier. (I also found out that Tom Hardy has a twin brother named Logan, with a different last name. A commenter astutely opined “i think logan is hotter. i dunno why. just is.” thus sinking any story ideas Vulture possibly had in comparing the brothers’ hotness.)
Excited, elated, and full of “eeeee,” I pinned the hell out of the dog-bearhugs-human picture to my SWAG board on my Pinterest account. Being trendy per usual, I made a timely Entourage reference by titling it “Hug it out.”
Now all I need is one of those T-shirts and someone to explain the Ocean’s Twelve plot to me so I can finally stop thinking about the year 2004.
Anyway, just minutes after the ceremonious pin, the emails rolled in and the horror started. Rivaling only LinkedIn and Eventbrite notifications in the category of “I’m deleting my email account forever so if you need me send a carrier pigeon,” my inbox started to fill up.
Replacing my Old Navy e-newsletters were messages from Ben (and whoever is left of the Pinterest team) titled “[WASP-y girl name] +10 others repinned your pin on Pinterest”.
They didn’t stop. The messages kept coming ALL MORNING. The dog-bearhugging-human picture proved to be an Internet success in the sense that more than my three friends saw something that I did.
All of the pins were from bb’s I don’t think I know—or ever met—like Jessica Rekart. Who are you, Rekart? Did we go to camp together? Sorry if I called you fat back then. But why do you have a board called “Fur Babies”? That’s weird.
(Other oddly titled boards that my cute pin made it onto were: “Animals Make Me Smile!”; “AWWWW”; “My Love !!!”; and Lau Della’s less-than-enthusiastic board, “cute animals.”)
But this newfound Pinterest fame is freaking me out for a few reasons. First off, these repins from these mysterious girls is the digital equivalent of the painful cheek-squeezing I went through too much as a child. Who are you are and why are you touching my things? (Not that thing.)
And why does Pinterest plaster my name in large font on other people’s pins? I’m sure you’re a nice person who donates to NPR, Kathy Johnson, but repinning the photo on your “My Style” board makes it look like I support your dog-wearing habits. My style falls along the lines of Old Navy’s slim-fit khakis in a mint green—and not dog fur. OK, maybe sometimes.
And what the hell, guys (or girls, rather)? You repin that picture but not this drawing of Amy Poehler with a feminist-approved slogan “don’t tell me what to do” from her Saturday Night Live golden days? Is Fab.com going to sell this yet, or do I have to print it off myself?
So, Pinterest, you freak me out, and I hate you. Being a viral success is too much for my fragile self. But if you love this column, use the Twitter button below and show it off to your friends. Just don’t pin it.
Photo via Tumblr
