Hi! I want to be your friend! Of course Tiffanee is my real name and yes, I really look like that. Do you like the way my enormous breasts spill over the edges of my profile pic? You want to know if I’m a real person? How could I not be a real person? Do those big, pouty lips not look real to you?
If you don’t believe me, feel free to check out my full profile page, where you may view my one public post since 2013: a memory of a “fun day at the beach” in Brazil, or the South of France—one of those places where you don’t have to wear so many clothes.
I know we don’t have any mutual friends—so what? From the looks of your friends list, it could use an upgrade, and that is what I am offering you! Maybe some of the guys on that list would like to be my friend too; then we’ll have some mutual friends, OK?
Why does a beautiful girl like me only have 37 friends? Because I’m selective, that’s why. You think I want a bunch of lecherous losers drooling over my picture, especially the one of me at the beach, where, if you look closely, you can see a paper-thin slice of my labia majora?
Look, I already have six more friends since I started this message, so you better act fast, pal, or you’ll miss the chance to be one of the first 50 people to accept my request. These special friends are the ones I trust enough to send pics that I wouldn’t share with anyone else: cherished vacation memories like girls-only Twister at a nudist colony, or the time I pleasured myself with a hefty plantain at Club Med.
Just click “confirm” already. What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen? It’s not like you have much of a life, judging from your profile page. Would it be so bad to spend a little less time playing “Worlds at War” and more time getting to know your hot new friend?
Why you? Well, because out of the 1.6 billion Facebook users out there, I can tell you’re someone I could really relate to. We both like trucks, we believe in protecting the 2nd amendment, you like big boobs, I have big boobs, and our favorite movie is “Jackass!” It couldn’t be more perfect if we’d met on Match.com.
I have a good feeling about this, I really do. I think we’re going to be friends for a very long time, at least until I start to lose my looks, and then you can unfriend me and I won’t even be offended, I promise. Just click that button, stud. You’ll be glad you did.