Texting Etiquette: 5 Ways You’re Annoying the Sh*t out of Your Friends

by Colette McIntyre

We here at The Jane Dough hope that along with making you laugh, we also teach new things about yourself and the world around you, like that New Yorker cartoon captions would be funnier if they mentioned blowjobs and how Kenan Thompson isn’t the Nickelodeon alum that SNL deserves or needs. (Where are you, Kel?!) With great blog comes great responsibility and we have made it our mission to better our dear readers. Have we succeeded thus far? Well, that really depends on your definition of “better”…

Below is the first installment in our new series “DON’T BE THIS PERSON” in which we provide etiquette guides and advice on everything from one-night stands to cereal pouring. (CEREAL FIRST, YOU WEIRDOS.) Gather around as we take on the nuances of proper texting, for as lady suffragette Susan B. Anthony said, “One unsolicited dick pic is one unsolicited dick pic too many.”



It all comes down to a basic economic principle — you know, producers and consumers and whatnot. The equation: Time It Takes You to Type a Response x Importance of Message + Years of My Life in Which I Didn’t Know You ÷ Number of Drinks I’ve Had = SHORTEN YOUR FUCKING TEXT MESSAGES.



Is your name some sort of stake that you are thrusting into the territory of your text? Perhaps the flag of your homeland, The Democratic Republic of White Moms? Is this a Diary of Anne Frank complex that relates to your legacy? Or are you convinced that no one remembers your name and/or the people you are texting haven’t saved your number in their phones? That’s tragic, man. You need to get new friends. Or ask your grandchildren to explain what a text is.



One of the least offensive configurations of the letter “K” in American society but still universally detested. While I don’t have limited text messaging — I’m not some pauper — my time and the integrity of my carpal tunnel are non-renewable resources; I can’t be wasting either on some painfully useless message that contains just a whimper of assent. Get Ben Affleck to extract you from the conversation if need be, I don’t care! Just learn how to successfully pull-out or else you’ll end up the proud parent of a 23-year-old text conversation who lives in your phone, consistently eats your last sleeve of Ritz crackers, refuses to pay rent, and won’t leave until it figures out how to become Twitter famous.



I get it, Tex Avery: you recently downloaded these super kawaii ideograms and you are desperate to get your ninety-nine cents worth. That’s fair —it’s just that 1) I don’t need to be reminded what emotions look like and 2) bread-dancing lady-top hat isn’t an emotion. The more emojis you send, the more our conversation resembles the hot-dog-smelling space beneath a hoarder’s bed. Unless this rebus puzzle is going to lead me and my partner to the scene of your latest heinous crime, use your words. The last thing I need is Face’s horny cousin popping up in our sexts. Speaking of sexts….



Gentlemen, your penis is precious cargo; it is your duty to protect it from people’s scorn and derision. Care for your penis as if it were your child. Clean it, keep it warm, put it down for a nap when it starts acting cranky. It’s not a grenade; don’t just toss it out, close your eyes, and hope for the best. Follow the Beetlejuice Rule: someone who is not you should have to say “penis” three times in order to conjure it. Do not act like an aggressive McDonald’s cashier. I don’t want to dickify my text conversation for only $1 more. I just want what I ordered: Game of Thrones jokes and drunk invitations to your place!


[The Jane Dough]

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