There are two kinds of people in this world amigo, those who’re your friends and those who’re your friaands.
~ Clint Eastwood as email@example.com
That’s right. Friends and Friaands, the enigmatic opposite sides of the same coin. The Czernobog and Beilobog of the great social-networking Valhalla of orkut have transferred themselves to the real-world (that is, the matrix-world as opposed to the matrix-world within the matrix-world).
It is imperative for people to be able to tell the difference between a friend and a friaand, to be able to “value and cherish a friendship” and get rid of a friaandships as quickly and painlessly as possible. There is, however, a problem.
Earlier on, it was quite easy to tell friends and friaands apart. If someone spent time with you due to common interests and an agreeable personality and enjoys your company, that person could quite easily be slotted into the category of friend.
On the other hand, a person who tried to befriend you with the clear intention of an eventual hook-up and described a five-minute conversation he (it’s usually guys who’re guilty of this so I guess feminists won’t mind the grammatical sexism) had with you which ended in, “Umm… I’ve got to… wash my car(I don’t have a car). See you later (not!)”, as a date to his friends. Who when you shake his hand thinks that sex is but the next natural step and when you say “hi” he thinks “ah, she’s absolutely crazy about me!” and you know that here’s a friaand. No questions asked.
However, friaands have evolved and their friaandshittery is getting more powerful everyday.
Quite sometimes, innocent questions and conversation that seems to be friendly in nature is infact, friaandly and the reverse is also applicable. One must realize that the best way to eliminate any confusion between these twins is to be frank. Friends are undeserving of hints, signals, signs, hidden messages, gestures and the like. A friend deserves to be told facts and not glib speculations from which he should draw conclusions.
The same applies for friaands. Friaands ought to be yelled at, face up, “You miserable piece of faecal matter, get the hell out of my life!”. It would take an exceptional level of ultra-dumbfuck friaand (scientific term: akshayvus batravius) to not understand this seemingly simple statement.
In conclusion, I would like to apologize for the poor quality of this post. I am still in a bloc. (It’s like a scene from 1408. Just when John Cusack thinks he’s escaped, the room materializes around him when he visits a post office).