1. On the tiles

Alcohol? Perfectly acceptable. Almost obligatory in this game. Sex? Poor old David Duchovny. He just couldn't zip up his mickey. Heroin? All the rage these days, apparently. But Scrabble? It has to be pretty much the lamest addiction imaginable. And, thanks to bloomin' Facebook, I'm hooked. Lined. And, um, snookered.

It all began with Scrabulous, the unofficial version of Scrabble much adored by Facebook users across the globe – at any given hour, there were up to half a million sad people juggling their virtual vowels and computer-generated consonants. Me amongst them, it should be stressed. Scrabble shut Scrabulous down – and promptly launched its own version. Which rocks even harder. What gives? It's not like I'd play a game of actual Scrabble. Board games, after all, are for children whose parents won't buy them a games console and sad people with no lives.

Me, I'm living the dream, having crazy international times with international people – that's when I'm not checking my Facebook page 27 times an hour. Let's be honest: the only thing more tragic than a thirtysomething married father of two spending most of his waking hours on a social networking website, is a 36-year-old married father of two spending most of his waking hours on a social networking website playing Scrabble.

2. Two words: school reunion!

Miss Carmen Lovely is, without a doubt, the most fabulous person in Mullingar. That's saying something. And Miss Carmen Lovely is the most glamorous person to call themselves my Facebook friend. Nary a day passes, it seems, without the fair Carmen posting yet more pictures of herself and her fabulous mates having, you guessed it, an utterly fabulous time. In Mullingar.

Carmen and myself enjoy what can only be described as a hands-off friendship, having not actually seen each other or had any contact whatsoever for, ooh, 18 years or thereabouts. We were both in college together for a few months. She was plain old Carmel Lovely back then. Thanks to the magic of Facebook, however, I am now privy to her day-to-day activities, along with those of several other former classmates who had disappeared into the ether. Not only that, I've just been appointed a moderator of our alumni website. I'm not quite sure how that one happened.

The best part of all this? When your significant other is – thanks to Facebook's nifty People You May Know application – promptly invited to become Carmen's friend, via your own association with The Loveliness, which leads to the question you've been dreading: "Who the hell is Carmen Lovely?" It's a long story. Which brings me to...

3. Where's the party?

It transpires that everybody is having a fantastic time on Facebook. They're having a Carmen Lovely time. They're hanging out with celebrities. Visiting exotic locations. And looking rather bloomin' chic while doing so.

As for me, well... Not much to report. What's worse, I'm being besieged with invites to horribly cool events I'm not going to be able to attend, seeing as I live in a small village in the arse-end of Donegal. See? You think I'm joking. But I'm not.

One of the many unfortunate aspects of a Facebook addiction is that you're left feeling that your own mundane existence might appear somewhat lacking by comparison. My idea of a good time these days, for example – sitting in bed, trying to stay warm with a jumbo packet of spicy Szechuan Barbecue crisps, watching episodes of 30 Rock and The Biggest Loser – doesn't necessarily translate to a cool Facebook photo opportunity.

But here's the thing: Facebook isn't about what you're doing. It's about what you're not doing. That's why you're on Facebook to begin with. The amount of energy wasted trying to come up with a cool Facebook status alone can be exhausting. Derek O'Connor is... eating crisps? Doesn't quite nail it. Derek O'Connor is... crying, writing this? Very John Waters. Always best to take the existentialist route: Derek is...

4. Picture perfect

Remember that study a few years ago that revealed that over 80% of MySpace users posed for their profile picture looking upwards at the camera? Apparently people foolishly think it's the best angle to be viewed from – it gets rid of those troublesome extra chins, for starters. Lest we forget, I'm an Irish male in his 30s. I've got more than enough chins for everyone in the audience. I don't want my picture on the web. Nobody wants my picture on the web.

For this reason, I employ the 'artsy' option, using my fastidiously curated Facebook page as a gallery of obscured and out-of-focus shots of me looking interesting. At least that's the idea. Instead, I end up looking confused and/or constipated.

The other options are to (a) post pictures of yourself as a child, like they do in the evening papers when a drug dealer has been murdered and they don't have any decent shots, so they go with the Communion picture, or (b) post pictures of your cat, which makes you look tragic. Some people even post pictures of themselves and their children, which screams 'I swear, I'm not using Facebook to cruise for casual sex'. These people are lying. I think I'll go with the cat option. I love my little Rufus soooo much.

5. One word: randomers!

If Ireland is indeed a village, then Facebook is a backed-up cul-de-sac during rush hour on a Friday evening. Being on Facebook is tantamount to a constant Proustian reverie (NB: always try to include a literary reference, in a doomed attempt to make yourself sound more intelligent than you are) – past, present and future collide in a cacophonous virtual melee of what can only be described as: Too. Much. Useless. Information. Real friendships require maintenance, care and due diligence, after all. Screw that! It's far more fun to spend hours poking people senseless on Facebook instead. If you're not actually on Facebook, this sounds far filthier, and lots more fun, than it actually is.

But what's the solution? I suppose I could just walk away. Leave my Facebook page to wither and die. Yeah! That would leave them all guessing: "Whatever happened to Whatshisface? You know, Carmen Lovely's mate. He must be off somewhere having an absolute hooly in the REAL world. I'm so jealous."

That's what I'll do. I'll just check my in-box one more time and be done. Ooh! Bonnie wants to be my friend! Who's Bonnie again? Who cares! Click – accepted!