Fool on Facebook

It’s been a tough couple of weeks for me.

I’m sure you could tell.

What with trying to get up to speed with the new smartass phone and then trying to make sense out of seeing a bunch of old classmates, then struggling with my moral center over whether or not I should return those old baseball cards, which I still say I won fair and square, despite the milk carton that spilled on the floor—don’t’ ask—it’s been difficult.

And then I went ahead and opened up a Facebook account after years of telling myself and anyone else who would listen—because, truth be told, I never do—that I would never, ever, never do that.

Does the most unsocial person in the world really want to be involved with anything tagged social, unless there’s a check involved.

I mean I did do the whole Twit on Twitter thing a year or so ago, but that seemed a little less intrusive and was more about promoting these Retorts.

I even have a handful of real Twitter followers, some of who don’t even require restraining orders.

But getting involved with Facebook?  Well, I might as well walk naked through Times Square…and this time maybe I’ll remember to bring the permit.

I don't know. It just felt kind of needy…and the last thing I needed was to give people any more reason to think I’m needy.

You know what I mean…right…right…you know…right?

And then there’s that whole “Like” thing.

Do I really need to put myself through that?

“How many ‘Likes’ did I get today?  What…no one ‘Likes’ my Broccoli Rabe picture or witty quip about auto-immune disease?”

Maybe if there were a “Disappointed” button I’d feel better?

So I've always said, no Facebook for me….not now…not ever.

But I did….

Don’t know why….

I guess because I got all caught up with that whole back to the past thing…plus, now I had a phone that could actually make FB accessible to me…apparently at all hours of the day or night.

Throw in the fact that those in the blogosphere that know something about these things, or at least blog about these things, have been telling me I had to get on Facebook, just so I could at least shame my “Friends” into reading what I’m writing.

Then, who knows, on the off chance that they “Like” something and “Share” it with two of their friends, who then “Share” it with two of their friends, who might “Like” it and then “Share” it…again…on and on and on…who knows, I might just have a “viral” situation on my hands.

Or at least a bad case of the sniffles.

So that was the idea.

But, unfortunately, it appears—at least from a lot of the pictures I’ve seen—most people on FB don’t really like to read…mostly because—again, judging from the photos—they’re all too busy drinking and partying.

Not that I resent any of that, at all. I just resent that I’m not in any of the pictures, hanging upside down, right beside them, with a beer tap in my mouth.

And when they’re not doing that, they’re posting pictures of just about anything else they can think of: pets, cute kids, socks…even their dinner…and sometimes their lunch…but only if it’s a special.

Which, again, I don’t have a problem with; it’s nice to see a picture of little Sally’s first tooth…even Uncle Ted’s last one.

And where are all the pictures of the ugly kids?

Come on…you know there are some out there….

Want to announce to the world you’re having a Bikini wax…go for it…but Harvey, next time spare me the pictures.

All fun things.

Plus, I get to snoop around on everybody’s pages and see all the stuff they obviously don’t want just anyone to see, because, let’s face it, it’s impossible for anybody to actually slog through and understand all those privacy settings.

It’s all just a crap shoot.

But none of that privacy stuff bothers me.

I have nothing to hide…not since my records were sealed by that judge.

What did worry me, however, was the idea of asking people to be my “Friend”.

I mean talk about needy...how pathetic is that?

I don’t need to ask people to be my friend…I’m like a friend magnet.

I just haven’t turned it on lately…say the last 3 or 4 decades.

And talk about intimidating.  Everyone seems to have at minimum 335 friends.

Some are into the thousands.

I don't think I've even met a thousand people in my life.

I'm not even sure if I've met 335.

So I thought I’d better start off with asking mostly family members to be “Friends”.

I figured since they were family, at least 10% of them might have a vague idea who I am—okay...5—and I might be able to  guilt the rest into “Confirming” me just to avoid another potentially uncomfortable situation come the holidays.

I mean Thanksgiving is awkward enough since I started bringing that Tofu Turkey…you know, just as an alternative.

I also found a few non-family members to pester until they caved, so it worked out; at least to the extent that I now have enough smiley faces in my “Friends” box to avoid looking too terribly pathetic.

And one day I hope to learn all their names.

I’m also terrified that one of these days I’m going to click on the wrong button and end up auto-sending Friend Requests to everyone I’ve left dangling in my Address Book since 1997. 

The last thing I need is for that chiropractor with the wandering hands to think I’ve changed my mind…again.

And with all those random faces popping up of people that know people that know people who know people who know you, or even just know someone who lives or lived in your current town or past town, or perhaps just shops at the Home Depot that you once visited, near Hoboken, but only to use the rest room—with all of those ‘intimate” connections floating around out there the chances are you’re going to have to really re-think how many packages of those little cocktail wieners you’re gonna need at this year’s Christmas party.

But I guess the thing that really bothers me about this whole Facebook thing is…I’m really kind of enjoying it.

Damn it!

And yes…I’m as guilty as everyone else of posting silly pictures of my garden hose, salami sandwich, deck furniture, vacation photos and even myself posing with an adult beverage or two.

And I get to force feed these silly stories to all my “Friends” whether they want them or not.

Maybe in-between posting pictures of their bail bondsman or the unidentifiable red stuff growing in the back of their refrigerators, they might click on one of them by mistake.  And then if they share it with two of their friends who share it with two of theirs….

What?

You think this is undignified.

Hey…I’m on Facebook. 

How much dignity do you think I have left?

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