Unexcused Absence

I owe my loyal reader(s) an apology. When my plants started dying, when I ran out of clean clothes, when the newspapers started piling up, and when I realized it had been almost a month since I had shaved my legs, I thought there might be a problem.

When my kids took it upon themselves to learn how to cook on the gas stove, when they threatened to start driving themselves to school, and when I noticed that they had grown about three inches since I last laid eyes on them, I knew something was wrong.

But I really didn't get the wake-up call I needed until I paid a visit to my blog only to find it gasping for breath and begging for a sip of water.

You see, I was brutally victimized by a sort of home invasion. The perpetrator? Something we addicts refer to as FB. Yes, I'm ashamed to admit that I have been sucked in to this ever-expanding vortex of social masturbation. I posted a handful of semi-flattering pictures, splattered some clever profile information, and picked out a few select pieces of "flair." Not long after I had my little "wall" all set up, in came a small deluge of friend requests. (I had not felt this popular since this one time?...at a fraternity party?….)

I'm proud to say that I have yet to participate in any of the little virtual pokes, tickles, sensual massages, quizzes, games, tests, anal probes, drinks, clubs, food-fights, calendars, plants, root canals, fish, flowers, pillow fights, pap smears, bumper cars, hayrides, or whatever other fun-filled, right-at-your-desk fake activities one might find available for the low, low price of several minutes to several hours out of an otherwise real life.

Now, don't get me wrong. I have been able to get back in touch with several friends from as far back as elementary school. We are at that sort of midlife crisis age where we realize that sometimes nostalgia is all we have to look forward to. I also use it to keep up with current local friends when I can't seem to pick up a phone and call or just send them a simple text or e-mail. Why bother with clicking to other forms of communication when I'm already on Facebook?

I like reading friends' profiles and notes and getting to know them better--but only when they have something interesting to say. I'm sorry, but I could not care less what your favorite color is. (Btw, most people say, "I could care less" but that makes no sense and it is WRONG. Take note. But I digress.) I don't care to hear how perfectly perfect your family is or how much you love your cat. Unless the cat is a clone, then that might pique my interest. Otherwise, I'm sorry but that's just plain downright Boring. When I wrote my "25 things" list after far-too-many friends "tagged" me, I tried to make it interesting. Tell me something I don't know, I say. Tell me something sad or scary or crazy or funny. I'm busy wasting time here, so please, make it worth my while.

Sometimes, I'll make sure I'm alone, or make sure no one's looking before I go to my favorites and open Facebook. Like it's porn or something. (Another real time waster.) After I check my inbox and "notifications" and distribute responses appropriately (or in my case, inappropriately), I check status reports for anything the least bit entertaining or interesting. But what do I see? Someone I went to junior high with is going to sleep. The brother of someone I used to work with has a sick kid. An old neighbor's granddaughter's ex-boyfriend is buying groceries. A total stranger who became my friend because we both thought the other was someone else is having dinner.

And what do I do? Stare at the screen like some undead/cyborg hybrid not unlike the way I stare into a refrigerator full of food hoping to find something worth eating. Sure, I could pretend it's just a bad TV show and change the channel, or click on "hear less about this person," but I might miss something redeeming. Or, better yet, I might miss something that I could insult in a "comment." And we know how much I love to hurl (always well-intentioned and good-natured yet tastelessly cruel) insults. It's my superiority complex. That's really my only personality flaw.

Am I going to alienate any of my 152 friends? Honestly, I hope this makes them like me (even) more. I hope this makes them examine their (seemingly hum-drum) lives or (apparently lackluster) days and look for something a little more worth the priceless value of my wasted time than what color socks they are wearing.

Do I think my friends are boring? No, not at all. What about my friends of friends? Well, I'm not sure. What about my acquaintances? Who are you, again? I just don't want to read about any mundane details of their lives. I have spent 20 years or more having no idea at what hour of the day so many of these people had dinner or went to bed. I have lived the majority of my life never wondering, worrying, or giving a flying rat's ass about whether someone I may only vaguely remember is having diarrhea. (If you're that sick, get your damn laptop out of the bathroom.)