You standard response to any emergency is to post its occurrence as your status, then deal with the emergency.
…bonus points if you solicit advice for handling the emergency via Facebook.
You take every “What kind of …. are you?” quiz possible, including the “What kind of chia pet are you??” quiz. (I’m hope that I’m making that one up.)
You update statuses like a misguided Twitter addict.
You spam all of your friends with app requests so that you can unlock the next level of super pokes.
You keep answering 21 questions about your friends in a paranoid attempt to find out who thinks you would fart in public.
You spend more time playing Farmville than most people spend awake.
You insist on posting inappropriate things that your mom, who is your Facebook friend, feels compelled to respond to.
You’ve friended your disgruntled exes and regularly start awkward passive-aggressive rants about them.
You participate in every “post this as your status if” trend as if there was some “breaking the chain letter” curse for not doing so.
“25 things about me” was way too little information about yourself, so you fill out more lists that require you to tag your friends in your troubling revelations, making them collateral damage.
You rant about how stupid people are in your status, misspelling every other word.
You seem to think that every one of your “friends” would be interested in joining your fringe political movement, and attempt to persuade by derision of those too meek to stand up and join you.
You regularly feel compelled to post things that reveal too much information about things no one wants to know about. (Hint: If it came out of your body unexpectedly or happened when you were at least half-naked, the rest of us probably don’t want to know.)