Tag Archives: facebook

Facebook is the Devil’s Playground. Or Beavis and Butthead’s. Something like that.

On average, The Boy and I talk about 3-4 hours a night. Sometimes he’ll be on Facebook on his end of the country, and I’ll be on Facebook on my end of the country. Which is apropos, considering it’s how we reconnected with each other. It’s also dangerous, seeing how we’re both 11-year-old boys at heart who enjoy nothing more than hijacking mutual friends’ pages. We also enjoy Ding Dong Ditch, crank calls and flaming dog poo on doorsteps, but I digress.

So now, for your amusement, because it’s late, and I got nothin’, here’s a little something from last night. Read THIS and tell me we’re not perfect for each other. I dare ya.

My apologies for the sloppy Witness Protection Treatment. Meh.



Filed under Piece of My Mind

Hostess with the Mostess I am not.

So, a few weeks ago, I thought I’d try something completely new and organize a real-time, online swap meet on Swap Mamas. It was scheduled for this past Saturday. However, I’ve spent every spare minute each night on the phone with The Boy, and Saturday night was no different. While the two of us talked, I tried to log into the Swap Mama’s Chat Room. And couldn’t get in. Because my computer sucks donkey dookie lately. Some hostess, eh?

The Boy took over for me, entered the Chat Room from his end of the country and struck up a conversation with two of my favorite bloggers, Auds at Barking Mad, and Mrs. Waltz from Waltz in Exile.

While I wish I still had the chat on record, it seems large chunks of it magically disappeared hours later. And never having actually SEEN it myself, my only account is second-hand. I’d love to hear Auds and Waltz’s version (Hear that Doogs? Blog Fodder!). From what I could make out, while I was drowning my frustration in Bud Light, the threeway went something like this.

• Not knowing The Boy’s true identity, Auds and Waltz begin to size him up.

• Auds and Waltz become increasingly suspicious, and ask if The Boy has a blog.

• They ask if he even has kids.

• They wonder out loud if The Boy is trolling.

• The Boy tells them he’s on the phone with me and that I’m trying to get online.

• A&W warm up to The Boy, figuring he must not be TOO creepy.

• Ten minutes of conversation pass. A lightbulb goes off. “They’re figuring it out! They’re figuring it out!” The Boy says.

And suddenly, my online life and my real life collide. The Boy is laughing. I am laughing. I’m pretty sure Auds and Waltz are laughing.

We’re totally busted.

And the next day? The Boy and I did what any couple mad for one another in 2009 does. We changed our Facebook profiles from “Single” to “In a Relationship.”

Yup. It’s official.


Filed under Piecing it Together

What a girl wants. Or not.

So, Facebook ads. Tailored to my profile. A 40-year-old single woman.



No. Reeeaally?

Is THIS one of those great guys? Do you think his mom knows he’s in his room with the webcam right now? ‘Cause, OMG, he’d be, like, soooo busted.

Thank goodness he has enough sense to keep that v-neck on.


Filed under Piecemeal

I have created a monster.

About a month ago, my brother calls me at work to ask how to use Facebook. A few hours later, he calls to say he was getting a flood of Friend Requests. The next day he calls to ask why all these people he didn’t know wanted to be his friend. Twenty-four hours after signing up, he was annoyed and swore he was going to stop accepting random friends.

Forty-eight hours later I received a text. He’d put Facebook on his cell phone. And couldn’t stop Facebooking.

So Monday, I get a text that he needs me to join his Mafia Wars family on FB — which is some kind of annoying FB game he’s already emailed and Facebooked me about — that I totally do NOT get and do NOT want to play.

I text him this:
U have a serious FB problem. Seek help.

He texts back:

I text:
Dude. More FB lingo.

He texts:

Lolol. ROFL. LMAO.

Try this one on for size. DILLIGAF.

I give up.

The phone rings. I answer.


Me: I got nothin’.

Him: Does It Look Like I Give A Fuck!! Bwahaha!

Next day, I’m seated at a board room table with four business associates. My cell rings once. My cell rings twice. I get a text. It’s my brother: Call me.

I, of course, think something must be up. Something serious. I excuse myself, walk to the lobby, and call him back.

Him: Um, I need your help. It’s kind of important.

Me: What?? What is it??

Him: I need you to join my mafia.


Me: Dude. You got me out of a meeting for THAT?!?

Him: Bwahahaha!!

Me: Nice.

Him: C’mon, all you have to do is sign up. I emailed like 30 people — I just need one more!

Me: O. M. G.

Him: (laughing) You just need to come up with a name for yourself.

Me: DILLIGAF. My name is DILLIGAF. I’m having a t-shirt made.

Which, speaking of … remember the Bamboo t-shirt conversation last week? QB actually DID have some t-shirts made. (That’s her below.)




Filed under Piecing it Together

Facebook Shmacebook

About six months ago, I built myself a little Facebook page. I’m not exactly sure I remember why.

Wait. Yes I do. I was stalking someone. Well, not really. But kinda. Nothing creepy or bad … let’s just say it was a distant relative.

I digress.

The whole thing was against my better judgment. And now I know why.

It’s irritating.

I have totally random people coming out of the woodwork wanting to be my friend. (And in turn, gaining access to my page.) Names I don’t recognize. Friends of friends of friends. People I never really knew in ‘real’ life. Usually, they’re people who attended the same high school. Occasionally, they are people with whom I share some kind of work connection.

For instance, last week I received the following Friend Request.

I know you through [work]. I am Pooperdude.

Actually, Pooperdude, I’m not sure we’ve ever really met. I do know you’re quite the entrepreneur, with that dog poop removal service of yours. But, no, I don’t think I actually know you.

And then, once I’ve accepted someone as my friend — which I inevitably always do, because I’d feel like a ginormous, bitchy a-hole if I declined (unless they’re a total stranger, which, to me is just … weird.) — the real maintenance begins.

Here is a list of things people currently want from me.

Jealous much?

Seriously. Who has time for this? Am I the only one who doesn’t get it?

I shouldn’t complain. It’s good to be loved. Plus, it’s a little ‘pot calling the kettle black’-ish, what with this blogging addiction of mine. I suppose instead of spending my nights writing posts, I could be sending my Facebook “friends” virtual hams or something.

Maybe I’m just anti-social. I don’t think so. Maybe I’m just … 40.


Filed under Uncategorized, Piece of Pop Culture