Ah, Facebook. What would I do without you? My life is so much richer for having you in it.
Case in point: without Facebook, I wouldn’t realize that my 12 year-old nephew is actually 68% black.
I know, I know. This might come as something of a shock to people who are familiar with his corn-silk white hair, blue eyes and creamy complexion. But according to a quiz he took on Facebook (titled, “How Black Are You?”), it turns out he’s 68% black.
Now, I haven’t seen the questions that led to this conclusion, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t involve a DNA sample. Perhaps he knows some rap lyrics and can appropriately attribute the “I have a dream” speech to MLK Jr?
I just hope he doesn’t take the result too seriously and think it means he is a good dancer. I made that mistake once myself, dancing wildly to Eminem at a discotheque in France shouting, “Detroit in the house! Right here!” and pointing at my chest. Fortunately, no one in France can dance, so it wasn’t as horrific if I’d made that claim in a NY club.
Another reason I love Facebook is because it allows me to crack myself up. Regularly. Last week I was practically in tears coming up with what I thought were funny comments to add when “Alan is in a relationship” showed up in my news feed. My first response (which I refrained from posting) was, “…with his hand.”
That had me rolling on the floor, in no small part because I had stolen the phrase from one of my nephew’s pre-teen friends. (Yes, I’m admitting my sense of humor most closely aligns to that of prepubescent boys.)
When I told Alan how much this thought had tickled me, he said, “Good thing you didn’t post that, because my response would’ve been, ‘With YOUR hand.'” Which also cracked me up.
For whatever reason, when I get to laughing like this, it reminds me of how Snoopy would laugh on Peanuts, slapping the table with his paw:
So to all the Facebook haters, I offer: anything that causes that much laughter can’t be all bad. It has to be at least 68% good, right?
pithypants 
A. I’m laughing at the Snoopy laughing clip. I’m not a Peanuts fan, but the cartoon Snoopy was so sweet.
B. It’s an awesome gift to be able to make oneself (one’s self?) laugh. Better still is when you get to hysterical laughter without being able to explain to anyone else why you’re laughing. It’s all taking place in your head. And once you calm down enough to share it with people, they usually just give you wary looks. At that point, you probably should just be in a relationship with your hand, because truly no one understands you the way you do…
Oh, and
C. I’m also laughing at the mental image of you going all Motor City on the folks of Annecy. Perhaps #2 in Alison’s top dance moments, second only to the wipeout at _____’s (Ryan’s?) wedding, where you did the sweet slide and got that humongous and nasty bruise on your lower thigh and knee.