This shouldn't have to be said, but apparently it must, so here goes. I'd never come to your house and tell you I hate your lavender-scented seashell-shaped hand soap or ridicule your handstitched sampler that proclaims "You've got nothing to loose!" or scribble words worse than "REDRUM" on your bathroom mirror in my or anyone else's blood. So, yeah, yeah (cliché alert) think of Facebook as my house. If you come here, we play by my rules and you don't get to tell me what I can and can't say. In other words, don't be a fucking dick. Got it?