In what has turned into an ongoing saga here at Tiles, we have been following the news story of the century as it unfolds. No no, not Egypt (although that did come up). Not Libya, either. Not even Charlie Sheen; you should know better, we just went over this yesterday. Of course, I am referring to the force of nature that is the Breakup Notifier Facebook app.
As you, my dear readers, are well aware by now, BN is an app that allows you to appease your appetite for super creepy cyberstalking, without the muss and fuss of actually clicking your mouse several times a day. It’s the Holy Grail of apps for desperate souls who are also really, really lazy. Then, of course, many a man wept tears of infinite sadness when Zuckerberg told BN to “Zuck it,” cutting the app off from Facebook’s precious API, thus rendering it useless.
Well, fear not, all you frighteningly ill individuals– help is on the way! Last night the following e-mail went out to everyone who signed up for BN within the last week, announcing that it is back online. (Ed note: yes, the fact that I got this e-mail means that I am one of the 3.6 million jackasses who signed up for BN. I plead journalistic immunity — that’s a thing, right? — on this front, as I only did it for research purposes in order to deliver the most accurate information possible to you, the reader. I may or may not have taken the opportunity to be informed when that Asian chick who sat next to me in stats class like six years ago ditches that pasty white dude who’s in all her pictures. Again, all in the name of research. I am hopelessly dedicated to you, my dear readers.)
Such great news! This is even better than Taco Bell bringing back the Cheesy Gordita Crunch, which — as long as we’re on the subject — is a work of sheer culinary genius. Cheese as an adhesive? Yes, please! I’m sure that if not for Steve Jobs taking over all major media channels for the release of the iPad2, this would have been the top story around the country. You’ll also note the companion app, Crush Notifier, which I can only assume sends you an e-mail on the occasion that your soul finally gets crushed under the weight of an endless mountain of pathetic optimism and unrequited love. In the mean time, keep taking Xenadrine recreationally singing along to that Plain White Ts album. Hey there Delilah, indeed.