Besties.

Wow, the term, is annoying enough.  But I am no longer friends in real life (OMG) with people who use this term to describe several people.

Let’s all review what the word BEST means, Okay?

Also (and this is entirely THIRD PARTY, about a giver and receiver who are not this guy), why would you want to publicly rank your friends on Facebook?

“went for waffelz [sic] wiht [sic] besties then to walmart and home  to watch tv [sic sic sic]”

Let’s ignore the spelling and punctuation on Facebook that kills me a little inside every time I read the stream of people I wish I could unfriend without creating real life drama.  But what this person (a friend of a friend) said to another person (a friend of mine) means:

“I like this fatass I went to get waffles with more than I like you.  And also, I plan my shopping around my ass-growing television watching.”

For me, well, my besties are related to me, by blood and marriage, and they don’t need confirmation of BESTY status on Facebook.

Still, shit, when someone calls you/me a besty on Facebook, don’t you get all warm inside?

Shit.

Facebook as sorta like real life in another way.

I find myself accepting “friend” requests from people I don’t even like because I’ve become as afraid to reject and/or unfriend people on Facebook as I am in real life. This extends to family members I can’t stand, people in high school I used to want to suffocate with my backpack and even partners/spouses/friends of friends.

On one hand, this could be good because maybe it means that I don’t hide behind an internet identity.  Only it doesn’t.  Case in point: this blog.

It might be a shame to think about Facebook so much.  But, if nothing else, it’s a fun way that we and some of our friends share pictures of our families, etc.  I don’t feel badly about that.

I am, however, cleaning Facebook house a little this weekend.  I’m tired of people I don’t ever see stalking pictures of my daughter and never posting anything at all on Facebook, like they only go on Facebook to stalk people.  That’s weird.

Also fun: people who post nasty things about you or yours, like everyone doesn’t see it and think said people are asses.

Ima kick you in the throat.

That’s it.  I’ve had it.  I am no longer speaking to anyone who actually writes/types, “Ima,” for, “I am going to,” — as in, “I am going to do nothing but sit on my fucking ass and hang out on Facebook all weekend after doing it all week.”

It’s my birthday in two days.  If you love me, stop with the Ima, or Ima poop in your car on a hot day.

Or some other empty threat I won’t carry through with.

In other news: I Am a Stranger Here Myself — great book!

And there’s a large tree that was uprooted in front of my apartment building — facing the other way.  It’s blocking half of our street, and assholes in luxury SUVs think they can cross the median and speed down the street the wrong way.  It is wrong that I hoped the Lexus I saw this morning would have plowed into a tree and gotten totalled, all the while leaving the driver unhurt?

On severe Facebook abuse.


Okay, we all bitch on Facebook. If you’re friends with me, then you that I’m not immune to it. Certainly. A bad day at work meant some complaining both before and after lunch, with a gross display of my list of most annoying workplace assholery (not showing up for meetings you call yourself, wasting literally half of my day listening to your bitching about how you can’t handle the drama in your life like an adult, etc.).

But I’m having trouble stomaching the parents who do nothing but bitch about their kids on Facebook. And I mean nothing, aside from a monthly, “Oh, I’m so lucky that I have three [or four] beautiful blah blah blah and a good man yadda yadda yadda.”

Sometimes I meet these kids and expect The Devil, but usually they’re just normal kids, often even delightful. And their parents are just venting — which is normal, so far as I can tell (not that it matters).

Facebook is already a place all-too-often devoid of filters which might prevent us from being jerks in person. Add lack of sleep and the feeling that one is somehow justified in one’s frustration, and it’s a, “my kid woke me up 15 minutes early today, and I don’t get no rest, and my life is hard, and no one gets it,” festival.

What happens when we put thoughts we might best keep to ourselves onto a semi-private feed that most of our friends and family read?  What happens if your kid ever reads it?  Nothing’s supplanted Facebook yet; our tots might find our profiles one day, if they have a high degree of computer literacy and if we actually let them get on Facebook.

Maybe some of us just need to get a freakin journal — or a blog!  Hell, if you blog, no one in your circle can justifiably bitch that you’re offensive, judgemental (hello!) or tasteless.  It’s not like you’re making anyone read it.

Yes.  Blogs are better, still.

Barely online these days, and it’s awesome.


I have a slew of unchecked email and Facebook messages, tons of blogs to catch up with, etc.  It’s wonderful.  I think I’ve spent less than two hours online over the last week.  This is an improvement for someone who usually thinks nothing of wasting time online for that long nightly.

Charlotte’s invitations are in the mail for her first birthday party (amidst Facebook-only invitations to others’ parties) with a phone RSVP requested.

Ah, the old technology of getting people together for pizza and fun and a party.

What I think is funny is that I’ve spent most on my online time this week blogging, not just reading and stalking Flickr.  Not funny.  Maybe fun?

We’re off to a party today which had only Facebook invitations, and, shit, I kept forgetting what time it started and had to keep turning on my computer to check.  I guess most people check Facebook on their phones, though, which they can do whenever they want.

The irony of posting this on the internet is not lost on this guy.  But, well, there’s something retro these days about blogs, no?

Yay, it’s Veterans’ Day.

Today is the day when people with no respect for members of the military (because they don’t agree with their leaders) talk their bullshit on their Facebook pages while those of us who quietly respect our brave men and women show our respect in more productive ways.  Talk to a veteran.  Don’t put bullshit in your newsfeed, man.

People on Facebook who don’t write anything.

Are creepy at best, when you unfriend them to find out that they like to read all about you and talk shit about your behind your back.  We’re related?  I don’t give a fuck.

Yes, if you have “friends” on Facebook and read it all the time without ever posting anything, you are creepy.  (Except my Mom, who can do whatever the fuck she wants, and no it’s not hypocritical to not find your Mom creepy.  SHE’S MY MOM!)

Okay, maybe I only mean like one person.