Tag Archives: Facebook

Facebook: I actually DO have self-restraint.

7 Oct

Nothing to with this post, other than that it's made of pork. And it might be my dream house.

Someone commented on my friend Lisa’s Facebook status tonight. His name was Miguel L. Lama. I was tempted to ask if his middle name really started with an “L” or if he just wanted to be known as M. Llama. That means either he’s funny or his parents are.  (I’m not, because I immediately started to think of a way to suggest that if he were a DJ, he could go by “m night shyamallama.” I don’t even know why that struck me as funny.)

My friend Trudi posted this: “My fortune: “You are the crispy noodle in the vegetarian salad of life.”

My immediate thought was: “Mmm. Crispy noodles.” Which then got me thinking, “Mmmmm. Pork rinds.” So when I went to comment on her status, I typed, “Are you crispy because you were fried in pork lard?” But before I hit “share” I had the sense to think, “What if SHE is a vegetarian? It might be offensive to be compared to bacon fat.”

And then I thought, “OMG. I can’t imagine anyone would think that a bacon fat reference would be a good thing.” Except me. (And started banging my head against the wall as punishment for being obtuse. Yet also awesome because I like bacon so much.)

And then – because I clearly didn’t have enough reasons to know that comment would have gone over like a fart in church – it occurred to me: “Isn’t Trudi Jewish? Isn’t there something about pork that would make my comment doubly offensive to my Jewish friends?”

Now that I think of it: it’s actually kind of startling that I have ANY friends on Facebook.

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I hope this means he has rhythm.

18 Sep

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?

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I’m learning restraint: Unposted Facebook Statuses

13 Jun

This week was a busy one, which explains my absence from this blog  for so long. Monday I settled on my new place and I had movers scheduled to move the bulk of my stuff on Friday. I was working this week, so during my off-hours, I split time hastily shoving things in boxes at my old place or trying to bleach every surface in sight at my new one.

Needless to say, there was little sleep and a lot of swearing and wine involved. I didn’t have as much time to update Facebook as usual, but if I had, these are the posts I would’ve written:

  • Just met the neighbor who lives directly above me. Should I be concerned that his first question was, “This might be personal, but which bedroom are you planing to sleep in?”
  • Bike racks at Trader Joe’s overfloweth. Is this in direct reaction to BP?
  • Interesting. I forgot to pack my plunger. (Not that I needed it, just noting its absence. Seriously, shut up.)
  • Dear God, I hope that is my neighbor’s washer on the spin cycle.
  • It’s one thing to make a Firefly Arnold Palmer if you think you’re meeting friends to watch the World Cup. It is entirely another when that ends up being your drink of choice while biking around town.
  • Just successfully caulked my bathtub. Now to get dried off and put some clothes on.
  • Honey: if your ass is as big as a picnic table, you really shouldn’t wear tight plaid shorts.
  • John Travolta: We get that you can fly a plane. But is it really necessary to wear a pilot’s uniform? I think your family will know who is in charge without the hat, dude.

On second thought, perhaps I’m a nicer person when life gets busy and I can’t find an outlet for my stream of consciousness. Perhaps the world doesn’t need my mind’s play-by-play narration.

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Because poops rhymes with oops.

11 Jun

One of my friends cracked me up with an unexpected email this week. In the middle of a conference call, I opened a note from her and the subject line was “If I had no internal sensor…” That alone should’ve warned me not to proceed with a mouth full of Diet Dew. I almost choked. The message?

My status update would now read: “Doodie coming.”

I’m sorry, but that’s FUNNY. Who doesn’t enjoy bathroom humor, especially when it comes from a woman?

I just wish she didn’t have professional “friends” connected to her via Facebook. Because the rest of us would’ve rioted to see that as a bonafide status.

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Addictions & Resolutions

2 Jan

My name is Alison, and I’m addicted to Facebook.

It’s embarrassing, really. I didn’t know the first thing about Facebook, Twitter or any other social media until I joined my company two years ago. Since we support other organizations with their marketing initiatives, it’s a requirement that everyone have a Facebook page and tweet daily. (I know, my friends who are teachers are shaking their heads, thinking, “You get PAID to tweet?”)

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