Tag Archives: Facebook

A Prelude to Valentine’s Day

A message to Barbie:  Just be done with it. 

I was blissfully unaware that Valentine’s Day was coming up until this morning when I went on my Facebook that I have kind of neglecting recently because Twitter is where it’s at these days.  People on Twitter are self absorbed, narcissistic whiners and braggarts with very little to say because they only have 140 characters in which to tweet.  I love them so.  Don’t get me wrong, I still *like* my Facebook, and all my “friends”  but sometimes people’s status updates are truly horrific.  Today, for example, one of my friends had this to say:

“Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep… who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky he is to have YOU…“

Seriously, a man posted this.  Furthermore he got 6 thumbs up for it and one woman commented:  `Where do I find this man?  I`ve been looking all my life…LOL!` So I counter-commented something like: `He`s the new talking Ken doll from Mattel, he retails for $39.95.`  She ignored me and wrote another comment:  “ Oh, (Facebook User), I wish I had a man like you, your wife is so lucky!  LOL!”  Yes “LOL” is right!  Is it just me or can you see the subtext in this guy’s status?  I think Dr.Phil would have a field day on the hot seat with this dude.  Let’s analyze it sentence by sentence:

“He calls you beautiful instead of hot”:  This means he is probably having sex somewhere else.   A sunset, a BLT, a covered bridge in Madison County are beautiful, too, and he is not boning either of these things.

“…who calls you back when you hang up on him, ”  : Why did you hang up on him in the first place?  Go with your instincts.  Oprah will tell you that.

“…who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat.”  Creepy.

“…who will stay awake just to watch you sleep”:  Yeah, so he can sneak downstairs and make a phone call.

“…wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats”:  Red flag!  Red flag!  This is the most dangerous of them all!  You realize, you, in sweats, are not hot.  He doesn’t think so either and nor does he want anyone else to.  Control freak.

“…holds hands in front of his friends.”:  That one is sort of cute but caution to all PDA, it is often just for show or like marking territory.

“…Constantly reminding you how much he care for you and how lucky he is to have YOU.”   Constantly?  Who is he really trying to remind? 

I’m not tying to be a big Valentine’s Scrooge but let’s just say I have your back.  If he seems to good to be true, you probably made him up in your head.  I’m not too worried my “friend” is going to read my post, he’s probably too busy rubbing petroleum jelly on his wife’s feet so she slips in the shower later on.  Here is the new talking Ken Doll, by the way:

My Filthy iPhone Habit

Rosedale School of the Arts, the scene of the crime

Last week, when Egypt went into upheaval and government blocked the internet including Facebook and Twitter, Charlie Sheen got sent to rehab.  At the same time, somewhere in the middle of these two events (closer to Charlie Sheen), my son Freddy had his iPhone stolen from his pants pocket while he was in gym class.  I know what you’re thinking, what’s a grade niner doing with an iPhone?   When I was in high school, we used to communicate with Morse Code and looseleaf.  While I was in English class, I used to tap on the wall to my buddy Paul, who was on the other side of the partition snoring his way through Physics, we’d pass notes, play hangman and gossip and draw pictures of our teachers in their underwear…now that I think about, I must have been in love with him, and if I could remember his last name, I’ll look him up on Facebook.  Which brings me to my point, we are a society addicted to social media, our cellphones are our lifeline.  Stealing a little dude’s cellphone is the equivalent of stealing another man’s horse in the wild west.  Freddy’s iPhone was my old 3G when I upgraded to the 4 last summer.  Oh how we love(d) our phones, Freddy would play Angry Birds and I would just be stroking and scrolling through all my apps.  Righteous Teenage Daughter would bust us:  “Look at the two of you!  You’re not even watching that!”  She would be pointing to the t.v. and we would look up at her in defiance.  She had a point for sure.  There is something uncontrollably addictive about the iPhone and I know I’m in trouble because not only do I Facebook, I tweet also.  And I have the app called Foursquare, the one where you check into every place you go in order to unlock badges and obtain mayorships.  I’m not joking, adults are doing this.  The worst part is that there is an app called HootSuite that tweets, updates your Facebook status, and reports  your Foursquare location all at the same time!!  It is like a social media speedball and although I have it, I have yet to do it, I`m scared I will unleash a monster that tweets and poops at the same time.  I might not be the Charlie Sheen of iPhone addicts yet  but I confess I have an app that pops pimples and paints cats.  It`s a federation of craziness.  And I have been trying to curb my iPhone fondling while at home with Freddy, who now has a Nokia something or other, out of respect and sympathy.  The other day on Twitter, my beloved Dr. Drew (Celebrity Rehab) tweeted out something about people who think they beat their addictions, `your disease is always in the next room doing push ups.`  Mine is in its charger, I`m calling it rehab and I`m putting it on silent but keeping it on vibrate, a LOCA`s got to be in touch somehow.

One is the Only Number

The Only Cafe, Danforth at Donlands

Last week, one of my friends’ Facebook status read:  “I’m off the Island, it was a rough dive but an easy swim. ”  It’s Toronto in July, everyone and his FB buddy is at some cottage somewhere fighting mosquitoes so I took her message literally.  But then yesterday she IM facebooked me:  “I’m single now, have great stories, let’s go for brunch!”  Yay!  Brunch, I’m in!  You know, I used to hate that word “brunch”, just pick a meal and call it breakfast or lunch, why don’t you?  And then I realized “brunch” is just an polite Anglo Saxon term for drinking booze at breakfast.  Most ladies who brunch in the East End go to Joy Bistro and order a mimosa with Norwegian Eggs Florentine so I suggested going there but my FB buddy, Dolores (not her real name) ixnayed it.  “Let’s get dirty,” she said.  So off we went to The Only Cafe for eggs, sausages, and pints of Wellington.  The Only Cafe is that beacon of colour in that otherwise dreary section of The Danforth near Donlands.  It’s graffiti art on the outside and a mish mash of decor on the inside with an impressive selection of beer on tap.  There’s a patio in the front and a quiet one in the back where you can languish all afternoon and chat away without judgment.  Newly single Dolores talked about her breakup (very exciting except that it turned out that “diving off the island” was just a metaphor) and we also discussed the ramifications of Facebook.  She defriended him but he kept her friends as his friends and since they broke up he makes sure he writes witty comments on their statuses so that she can see them and that way she won’t forget him.  There’s a smart man.   She did keep his relatives as her FB friends because the actual process of defriending someone is a political statement that requires quite a bit of emotional energy.  I hate it when people defriend me (I notice!) but then I’m sure my Farmville activity last spring was unbearable when they were reading their updates, so I try not to take things too personally.  And I have always found it strange that Facebook suggests putting a  relationship status in your profile section.  How bad would you feel if your beloved chose the “it’s complicated” as an option?  If you’re a man, let’s face it,  the only reason you choose “in a relationship” or “married” is because a certain someone p-whipped you into it.  If you’re a woman and you choose the “single” option then people think you have cats.   And some folks get all paranoid about Facebook;  “I’m being stalked!”  Nobody is stalking you, honey, unless they are sitting in a tree looking in your bathroom window, don’t flatter yourself.  If they’re looking at your profile, consider yourself lucky that someone cares.  My motto:  Just keep it light and happy and pretend Facebook is like being out in a public cafe where you conduct yourself in a civilized manner.  And you can play that mutated form of Scrabble called Lexulous!  And post blog entries!