Facebook

Facebook, I hate you. You give me anxiety like I haven’t felt since the playground days of grade school. Yes I used to feel anxiety on the playground. “About what?” you ask. To name a few: Will someone save me a swing if they get to recess before me? What if we play Smurfs and everyone says I’m Gargamel? What if I make my friend April play jump rope with myself and Jill Whitecross and then turn into the devil and force April to wrap the jump rope around Jill until she can’t move and then get sent to the office? What if we all decide to bring our Cabbage Patch dolls in to school so we can play with them at recess and I bring my Koosa thinking it will be just as cool as a Cabbage Patch Kid and it isn’t, like, at all? Anyways, I do realize the irony of posting this blog post on Facebook while saying I hate Facebook. Is that actually irony? Or is irony like when I am told by a soothsayer that my child will die because of her lover so to keep her safe I lock her in a tower where she is fed by crows only to have her kill herself because she can’t be with her lover? Maybe that’s Greek Tragedy. Wait, I got it, irony is like what Alanis Morissette said about having a shit ton of spoons but needing a knife. Yes, that’s it. It’s all about silverware, people, silverware.

First off, since I’ve been on the Face I could be categorized by some as an “over” Facebooker. I over use, I over post, I over comment, I over stare at your pictures, I over friend. And then I over process questioning if I have over used, over commented, over stared (is that even English?) at your pictures, and over friended. I’ve had friends say, “I don’t want to post anything on so-and-so’s photo because I’m scared they may think I’m stalking them.” Comments such as these make me sweat. I comment on at least six photos a day. Once, a friend of mine who I met at school dared me to comment on every one of her photos. I did. All 380 of them. It took me 2 1/2 hours. You’re welcome. But I can typically self sooth (For you laymen out there ‘Self Sooth’ is a counseling word which means to sooth yourself. I know, I know. Tricky stuff. I had to go to school for two years to learn that). I feel better by reminding myself that stalking is when someone is sneaking into your life uninvited. An example of stalking is someone breaking into your home, standing over your bed, snapping Polaroid’s of you (No I have no idea why it’s a Polaroid camera. I don’t make the stalking rules, I just convey them) and then sending you the Polaroids in the mail with a letter that says, “You drool when you sleep” written in magazine cut out words. Whereas Facebook is more like you putting your bed outside on the sidewalk and someone staring at you. You can't blame the person staring at you. You can't dammit! Put your bed back inside if you are creeped out by me staring at you! 

Of course, because I over friend, I have had to deal with being defriended. My first experience with defriending was about two years ago. I was defriended by a girl who I went to high school with, she was a year older than me and I had exchanged, like, ten, maybe even twenty words with her in my lifetime. Which totally constitutes a Facebook friend request. I mean, she was practically in my top 100 people who were closest to me on the Face. She accepted my friendship request and I looked at her page to see how she sold herself. Solid pictures (although not many of them) she hadn’t changed much since 1992, she had a cute family and even a dog. Then, one day, I saw that she posted something on a mutual face friend page, I clicked her name to look at her page and we were no longer friends. Oh the humanity! I did a search for her name thinking maybe she was done with Facebook and that post was old. I wasn’t even sure that was possible but it was worth a shot. There she was. Facebook asked me if I would like to friend request her. (Dear Facebook, Should refriend requesting someone after they have defriended you really be an option? Dear Deidre, What kind of crazy distressed person is so desperate for others to validate them that they would convince themselves that they were defriended by mistake and that they should therefore refriend request someone? I don’t know Facebook! Maybe that crazy person’s name rhymes with Schmeidre Schally, maybe it doesn’t. I’m not a detective) I digress. Yes, I actually thought about about refriend requesting this person. And by thought about it I mean I refriend requested her. She must have silently ignored. I replayed the ten word (possibly twenty word) conversation we had over our life time in slow motion in my head to the song “The Way we Were”…which reminded me of movie theater popcorn and movies so I went to go see Iron Man because I want to have Robert Downey Jr.’s children. Question: Why is movie theater popcorn so much better than any other popcorn you get? I often wonder if you can go into the movie theater, buy popcorn and leave. It took me several weeks to get over my first experience of being defriended...and then silently ignoring. Now I’m a defriended pro.

So this leads me to defriending someone. Defriending someone makes me approximately two to three times more anxious than being defriended does. I never defriend someone because of them. I don’t stare at the persons Face page, shaking my fist in the air screaming, “Why are you my friend?! God, I hate you friend! I wish you were never born!” I usually defriend due to post traumatic stress disorder from over Face Friending. I will go through my friends now and then and think, “Dear god man, did I friend that person? Why did I do that? I don’t think we’ve had one exchange on here. They must think I’m the weirdest person ever for having friended them.” So I’ll eventually delete them. I typically ponder sending a message to them saying, “Hi, I’m Deidre Daly. As you can see by my page, I have a dog named Duke, a niece named Lily and I hate carrots so much that they make me angry. By our ‘mutual friends’, you may be able to tell that we are connected by my sister’s ex’s friend’s mom’s daughter. I friend requested you about a year ago and I now realize that makes me bat shit insane. Therefore; I’ve decided to defriend you. Not because I don’t care about you; although, we’re both aware of the fact that I don’t really know you at all. Rather, I defriended you because I care that much about what you think of me. And I don’t want you to think I’m crazy. Sincerely, Schmeidre Schmaly”.

The last thing, and relatively new to my Facebook anxiety is parents being on Facebook. And by parents I don’t mean my friends who are now parents (which is pretty much all of them), I mean the parents OF my friends. Initially, I get extremely excited every time I see a parent of my friend on Facebook. Then I friend request them. Then I forget about them. Then I post something like, “I want to tongue punch your mother in the fart box”** as my status and wake up at one in the morning a week later with the realization that a parent may have seen this post (assuming they haven’t already hidden me because they don’t care about my posts). However, I do realize the entertainment potential there is to staying on Facebook long enough that I can be that ‘parent’ to my friend's children. I can’t wait until they get old enough to be on Facebook and I can friend request them and chastise them for saying things which are ‘inappropriate’. Who am I kidding? They’ll probably defriend me before I can get to that point.

So this is the sad truth about my Facebook anxiety and why I hate Facebook. I am fully aware that most people don’t think about Facebook ever, never mind think about it neurotically to the point where they are losing sleep. Of course this doesn’t make me less neurotic; instead, it gives me something else to worry about. What kind of a 35 year old woman is that wrapped up in Facebook? Awesome. Facebook, I hate you.

*I credit my friend Ken’s buddy for this phrase. He said last Saturday at which point I threw up a little and then committed it to memory and have been waiting to use it ever since.

Guest Blogger...Sort of?

So, I follow some blogs here and there and I love the idea of guest bloggers. However, since I only write in my blog once every year or so (because my life is that lame), I was not sure how appealing it would be for someone to guest blog on here. The reason why I was thinking this in the first place was that I realized I have a lot of funny friends. I often find myself saying, "You should write a blog so I can be more entertained at work." Yes, you are all responsible for my work free time entertainment and I must say, you guys need to step up your game. I have resorted to reading US Magazine online. I've been reading it so much in fact that I know to check it at 8 AM when I get into work and that I should check it again at 3 PM because new stories have been posted. NEW STORIES! What is most peculiar about this is that Connor and I don't have TV so I have no idea who any of these people are. But I know a lot about their weight fluctuation, dating habits and how often they are wearing outfits that readers find down right hateful. Side note: I often do the "Who wore it best" quizzes where they pit two people wearing a similar style outfit together and you have to vote on who wore it best. After you choose, they show you what everyone else voted. What I find shocking is that 90% of the time I choose the landslide losers. I'm talking only a select 6% of US readers and I think a person rocked the crap out an outfit that 94% of people probably found more offensive than what is going down in Darfur. Ok Ok, sorry, now where was I. Right, funny friends and guest blogging. So what I decided to do was to compile some of my friends quotes and post them as an anonymous list. However, I didn't keep my family anonymous because I have the right to throw them under the bus at will. So you, Mr./Ms. reader, you may find a quote of yours in here. If you don't, well, it's not my fault you aren't funny. Hahahaha. HEY! Calm down. It's a joke.

Alright, well here it be. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did when I heard them:

East Coaster explaining sarcasm to a West Coaster:
Buddy, if nobody is making fun of you, nobody likes you.

On traveling out of the country:
I'm only going to go if I don't have to get immunizations... I'm not going anywhere that I can get a communicable disease...

On saying you're the number one Red Sox fan when you haven't seen a game at Fenway:
Saying you're “the number one fan” without having actually been to a game is like being the club water boy: You may consider yourself a part of the team, but everyone else just thinks you're semi-retarded.

On his wife being pregnant and not able to drink:
I was getting sick of drinking in the closet by myself in the dark. I kept spilling my drink on my shirt because I couldn't find my lips.

My sister in response to her husband asking her what her plans were for the day a month after giving birth:
I don't know maybe I'll just stay home and breastfeed today.

My brother on moving his graduation party a week after he actually graduated for me:
This is almost as bad as when I came home to Holden one weekend and you and your friend were sitting in the living room obviously hung over from a party you just threw at our parent's house. The place was a mess, and somehow you convinced me, your younger naive brother, who was still in Middle School, to clean the house for you. You said if I didn't somehow the parents would be upset at me. Of course I obliged. Stupid Jimmy Daly.

On waking up hung over:
I can't believe I'm an alcoholic. I had such high hopes for myself when I was younger.

On hating basketball:
When watching a basketball game I'm pretty sure TV networks are showing you people a static test screen and you're actually falling for it.

Friend's theory on how women break up with men:
Women break up with guys about 2-3 months before they actually break-up, but don't tell them. After deciding they start to slowly construct a case against them like little lawyers. They then lay in wait for the poor sucker to do something wrong. When they don't after a couple weeks and they get tired of waiting they explode at the next thing that comes close. I'm pretty sure my last girlfriend broke up with me before she even met me.

On her husband and father's day:
I think every day that he gets to go to work and not be home with the kids is Father's Day.

On eating Pho and the Vietnam war:
Pho, pronounced Fa, a Vietnamese delight, translates loosely in English to "We may not have won, but we sure as shit didn't lose that shit in the 60's so F off Saigon".

My Dad on doing errands after my mother had a hip replacement:
One of my high points of this week was when I got out to the Mall, (that's right Dee, me in a mall shopping) and purchased a high end stir fry pot. On sale at $34 down from $82. Now we’re talking good times.

On tending to the driveway:
I decided that I would blow the leaves off our driveway this weekend with our shop vac. However, it still didn't look "neat" enough, so I switched nozzles and basically vacuumed the driveway of all the leaves. Never mind the fact that I'm 7 months pregnant. I really hope the new neighbors didn't see me. They are going to be scared.

On getting off of Chat:
Ok. I have to go mow the lawn now. That is not code for anything either I am really going to do that.

On knowing that I was diagnosed with a learning disability and prank calling me at work:
"Good morning, this is Deidre."
"Have you seen my baseball?"
"Excuse me?"
"Franks and beans!”
“Ah, I think you may have the wrong number.”
“Oh, sorry, wrong retard."

On loving being tagged on Facebook:
When I log onto my email and I have a message from Facebook saying I've been tagged in a picture I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve. You know, one of the only reasons I take pictures of other people is because there is a higher chance that they will in turn take a picture of me. And then they'll tag that picture of me on Facebook.

On friends and germs:
I just went to a baby shower this weekend, and after standing in line and seeing 30 people use the same serving spoon to get the lasagna, I was trying to decide what to do about this germ-infested utensil until I saw a giant oven mitt in the middle of the table. I put it on when it was my turn so that I did not have to touch the serving spoon with my bare hand. Several people looked at me like I was nuts and my sister whispered "you are crazy". I yelled at her because I think she spit on my food.

My friend's reply to me saying I'd flip him the bird as we passed by each other in the air on different flights:
Flipping me the bird in an airplane. That's irony Dee. Or is it tragedy? No wait, it's alchemy. Alchemy.

On my boyfriend and I celebrating Thanksgiving in Maine:
Did you kill a wild turkey in your backyard? I can just see it now - you and Connor in loin clothes running in the Maine wilderness with spears - grunting and drooling over each other chasing a poor bird around the yard. Awesome image. Awesome.

My mother yelling out the window to a truck driver who cut her off when she was driving me and the rest of my 7 year old Blue Bird troop to an event in Worcester:
Son of a bitch (as she flips the truck driver the bird)! I have young kids in the car!

Thanks friends and family for being so funny. If any of you people want to take credit for your quote, I guess you can do so by commenting. Had to err on the side of caution. Not really, but I wanted to use the word 'err'.