Published by The Housemates on May 28, 2013
Three men sit silently in a dimly lit office located in the business district of lower East Manhattan. They sip on black, double shot coffees whilst staring at outdated, dust-covered Microsoft computers. Comic books clutter the remaining space on their desks. One of them, Bob, invents Snapchat, a simple application. Snapchat’s functionality allows Bob to con female acquaintances into sending him photos of their vagina without them worrying that he’ll upload them to HotExGirlfriends.com. The app goes public. Millions of people use the app for the exact reason Bob invented it. Millions do not. These are their stories.
A 23-year-old psychology major who polishes his stainless steel toaster each morning before yoga, ‘The Chef’ manages to steam every ounce of resentment and jealousy out of you with every Snapchat he sends. Like clockwork, each night he’ll send you a picture of his meal carefully positioned on a perfectly clean bench next to an untouched glass of red and cutlery that looks like it’s never been used. Captions include ‘just whipped this up’ and ‘standard night in’, as he does his very best to convey how nonchalant he is about braising lamb shanks and blanching the ‘amazing’ organic produce he got from a market you’ve never heard of in a small country town you’ve never been to. Despite his abundance of talent, he’s never invited you round for dinner.
While you’re at home watching Modern Family on a Wednesday night, The Alcoholic is shotting Wipeout in a bar called Venereal Disease and giving ‘love signs’ (they explained this term to you once upon a time) to a fat dude across the bar. Every single night after 10pm you’ll receive these Snapchats. Every. Single. Night. You will never hear from the alcoholic before 2pm in the afternoon and your next door neighbour told you that the alcoholic caught genital warts after a local Greek Festival.
The Fitness Freak
Three years ago, The Fitness Freak was 30kg overweight and spent every night dipping Oreo’s into Nutella during Seinfield marathons. After the doctor told her she was clinically obese and that lard was about to launch a hostile takeover on her heart, mummy and daddy forced her to get a gym membership and join Jenny Craig. By the time she could tie her own shoelaces without assistance, The Fitness Freak felt the need to tell the whole world how much progress was being made via a vigorous and determined Instagram routine. The incorporation of Snapchat into the social media world just gave the Fitness Freak another medium to show everyone how she’s finally become a normal sized human being.
The Frozen Face
This little whippersnapper has a mind-bending talent; even in a fucking house fire, his or her face will remain in a premeditated, carefully composed formation. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, a true face of stone. At the beach: frozen face. In the car: frozen face. Cleaning the lounge room: frozen face. Having sex: frozen face. You’ll get so sick of the same stupid look you’ll stop viewing their Snapchats all together and do a Google search on ‘how to block someone on Snapchat’. More often than not, The Frozen Face culprit is a woman with a penchant for pouting.
The Sultan of Selfies
Enter a brainless human who’s completely forgotten that you see their face every second day and don’t need to waste your mobile bandwidth on viewing eight seconds of their less-than-impressive mug. This specimen is the worst of the Snapchat realm, a terrible heathen who’s molested hundreds of victims with incessant snippets of mediocrity. To solidify their insanely boring Snapchats, The Sultan of Selfies will become increasingly versatile with their captions. It will eventually reach a point where the caption on a photo of them throwing up a peace sign in the bathroom reads ‘had the yummiest tuna last night’. You don’t event try and understand the relevance of said caption.
This promiscuous breed of Snapchatter comes in both male and female form. The male species tends to opt for abdominal shots while the female breed lather you up with cleavage-heavy pictures you know belong on an amateur porn site. These may be evolved Fitness Freaks in the latter stages of their development, or simply ambitious Sultans of Selfies. Only one things for sure: the screenshots of these self-depreciating snappers will surface on the screens of creeps all around the world for many years to come.
I don’t even fucking know.