Comments I want to leave on your Instagram photos (but don't)
No matter where you are or what you’re doing, I am likely scrolling through your Instagram posts, yet courageously withholding the things I would like to say.
As Sting once terrifyingly sang, "I'll be watching you." And he's right: I will be.
No matter where you are or what you're doing, I am likely scrolling through your Instagram posts, yet courageously withholding the things I would like to say.
Today, in honour of how increasingly annoyed I've become with everyone and everything, I will say what I've always meant to say but never quite had the guts to say. These, my dears, are the comments I want to leave on your Instagram photos, but never do.
Photo: Any two people standing, sitting, or existing together
Comment: "Are you guys dating?"
If you're standing near another human person, I want to know if you're dating. There's no real reason, I just want to know. As a rule, I like to know who is dating and who is no longer dating and why it didn't work out.
I want to know if it's serious or if it's something you both know is a mistake but keep trying because you've gone to the dark place and convinced yourself that unless you're romantically attached, you will die totally and utterly alone. I want to know all of it. And I don't care if one of you is holding the other person's new baby.
Photo: Any photo featuring a baby
Comment: "Give me back my son"
In the 1996 Mel Gibson drama Ransom, he shouts "Give me back my son!" while on the phone with who I assume are the people who kidnapped his son. I've never seen this movie and because Mel Gibson is an absolute monster, I never will. But I love the pandemonium it could cause if the right person saw my comment and believed their friend/family member/stranger they're obsessed with has taken my baby. This is made better by the fact that I don't have a baby. I only have plenty of time to destroy someone's life.
Photo: Any photo featuring more than a two-sentence caption
Comment: "Who cares"
There are exceptions to this rule, but for argument's sake let's ignore them. Here's the thing: nobody wants to read your Instagram novel. Not a soul. Not a blessed soul. I don't care if you're expressing your gratitude, you're ranting, or sharing the innermost workings of your beautiful mind: the fact that I have to click to expand your version of of War and Peace has annoyed me to the point of hating your caption on mere principle.
Why wouldn't you make it a Facebook post? Why not link to Twitter? Why are you doing this? Nobody asked for this. We're all just trying to scroll to where we left off last before our friend comes back from the bathroom and we're forced to ignore our phones for hours at a time. It's great that I know how much yoga has changed your life, but I missed at least seven pictures of strangers' cute cats.
Photo: Any photo of a cat or any photo of any animal
Comment: "Give me your cat"
I like cats more than dogs, so I will never ask for your dog because I would rather walk into the lake than have to walk a dog every day. (I am selfish, and I am fine with it.) But while it's an obvious move to ask someone for their cat (because cats are the superior animal), it's less obvious to refer to every animal posted as a cat. Also, it's genius and great. First, because the poster will inevitably question whether the alpaca they posted is really a cat. And second, because dozens of people will now think you genuinely don't know what a cat is.
Photo: Food that isn't from a diner/family restaurant/genuinely delicious-looking
Comment: "No"
If I wanted to look at the photos of a gourmand, I would follow Guy Fieri, the only gourmand. Give me diner breakfast, or give me death.
Photo: Any photo referring to and/or praising fitness
Comment: "Hard pass"
Nope. No thank you. Absolutely not. I don't care. I don't care that you're fit, I don't care that you love fitness, I don't care that you can do that yoga move where you're in the air and your arms look strong. Nothing about this appeals to me. I do not want your life, I do not envy the fact that you can do this. I will accept sports photos if they depict you at a professional sports match, and I will accept photos of you wearing jogging pants. But I do not care about the jog itself.
I am not invested in your weightlifting journey. You do not get a prize for being at the gym. We have all been to the gym. I went for the last time in 2003 when I wore Modrobes and full makeup because I was there only to accompany a friend who bribed me with breakfast after the fact, and even then -- years before the advent of Instagram -- I thought about how boring the gym was and how I couldn't care less about it.
Unless you're a figure skater and/or ice dancing. And then I actually care a surprising amount. So Tessa and Scott, post whatever you'd like.
Photo: Any selfie
Comment: "HELL YES"
Selfies are the best, and I will fight to the death to defend your right to take one. Anybody who condemns a selfie is a demon who does not deserve joy, and all references to the taker being vain should be met with, "What's your point?" Of course we are. We all are. We're narcissists, and it's fine. Have you seen how many oil painting portraits exist? It's a legacy of vanity. And I'm here for it. Take your selfies. I love your selfies. I will like them until I am asked to please stop liking so many photos. And then I will expect that you like all of mine.
Anne T. Donahue is a writer and person from Cambridge, Ontario. You can buy her first book, Nobody Cares, right now and wherever you typically buy them. She just asks that you read this piece first.
Comments I want to leave on your Instagram photos (but don't)
Social Sharing
As Sting once terrifyingly sang, "I'll be watching you." And he's right: I will be.
No matter where you are or what you're doing, I am likely scrolling through your Instagram posts, yet courageously withholding the things I would like to say.
That stops today.
Today, in honour of how increasingly annoyed I've become with everyone and everything, I will say what I've always meant to say but never quite had the guts to say. These, my dears, are the comments I want to leave on your Instagram photos, but never do.
Photo: Any two people standing, sitting, or existing together
Comment: "Are you guys dating?"
If you're standing near another human person, I want to know if you're dating. There's no real reason, I just want to know. As a rule, I like to know who is dating and who is no longer dating and why it didn't work out.
I want to know if it's serious or if it's something you both know is a mistake but keep trying because you've gone to the dark place and convinced yourself that unless you're romantically attached, you will die totally and utterly alone. I want to know all of it. And I don't care if one of you is holding the other person's new baby.
Photo: Any photo featuring a baby
Comment: "Give me back my son"
In the 1996 Mel Gibson drama Ransom, he shouts "Give me back my son!" while on the phone with who I assume are the people who kidnapped his son. I've never seen this movie and because Mel Gibson is an absolute monster, I never will. But I love the pandemonium it could cause if the right person saw my comment and believed their friend/family member/stranger they're obsessed with has taken my baby. This is made better by the fact that I don't have a baby. I only have plenty of time to destroy someone's life.
Photo: Any photo featuring more than a two-sentence caption
Comment: "Who cares"
There are exceptions to this rule, but for argument's sake let's ignore them. Here's the thing: nobody wants to read your Instagram novel. Not a soul. Not a blessed soul. I don't care if you're expressing your gratitude, you're ranting, or sharing the innermost workings of your beautiful mind: the fact that I have to click to expand your version of of War and Peace has annoyed me to the point of hating your caption on mere principle.
Why wouldn't you make it a Facebook post? Why not link to Twitter? Why are you doing this? Nobody asked for this. We're all just trying to scroll to where we left off last before our friend comes back from the bathroom and we're forced to ignore our phones for hours at a time. It's great that I know how much yoga has changed your life, but I missed at least seven pictures of strangers' cute cats.
Photo: Any photo of a cat or any photo of any animal
Comment: "Give me your cat"
I like cats more than dogs, so I will never ask for your dog because I would rather walk into the lake than have to walk a dog every day. (I am selfish, and I am fine with it.) But while it's an obvious move to ask someone for their cat (because cats are the superior animal), it's less obvious to refer to every animal posted as a cat. Also, it's genius and great. First, because the poster will inevitably question whether the alpaca they posted is really a cat. And second, because dozens of people will now think you genuinely don't know what a cat is.
Photo: Food that isn't from a diner/family restaurant/genuinely delicious-looking
Comment: "No"
If I wanted to look at the photos of a gourmand, I would follow Guy Fieri, the only gourmand. Give me diner breakfast, or give me death.
Photo: Any photo referring to and/or praising fitness
Comment: "Hard pass"
Nope. No thank you. Absolutely not. I don't care. I don't care that you're fit, I don't care that you love fitness, I don't care that you can do that yoga move where you're in the air and your arms look strong. Nothing about this appeals to me. I do not want your life, I do not envy the fact that you can do this. I will accept sports photos if they depict you at a professional sports match, and I will accept photos of you wearing jogging pants. But I do not care about the jog itself.
I am not invested in your weightlifting journey. You do not get a prize for being at the gym. We have all been to the gym. I went for the last time in 2003 when I wore Modrobes and full makeup because I was there only to accompany a friend who bribed me with breakfast after the fact, and even then -- years before the advent of Instagram -- I thought about how boring the gym was and how I couldn't care less about it.
Unless you're a figure skater and/or ice dancing. And then I actually care a surprising amount. So Tessa and Scott, post whatever you'd like.
Photo: Any selfie
Comment: "HELL YES"
Selfies are the best, and I will fight to the death to defend your right to take one. Anybody who condemns a selfie is a demon who does not deserve joy, and all references to the taker being vain should be met with, "What's your point?" Of course we are. We all are. We're narcissists, and it's fine. Have you seen how many oil painting portraits exist? It's a legacy of vanity. And I'm here for it. Take your selfies. I love your selfies. I will like them until I am asked to please stop liking so many photos. And then I will expect that you like all of mine.
Don't miss anything from CBC Comedy - like us on Facebook.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Anne T. Donahue is a writer and person from Cambridge, Ontario. You can buy her first book, Nobody Cares, right now and wherever you typically buy them. She just asks that you read this piece first.