Dear Friends and Family,
I’m sorry to tell you that the intervention you staged a few
months ago isn’t working. Yes, it’s true; I am still addicted to
Facebook.
Oh, I know I told you that I only stayed on Facebook to catch up
with old friends and keep in contact with new ones.
Dear Friends and Family,
I’m sorry to tell you that the intervention you staged a few months ago isn’t working. Yes, it’s true; I am still addicted to Facebook.
Oh, I know I told you that I only stayed on Facebook to catch up with old friends and keep in contact with new ones. I know I promised to only use the Internet for its original purpose – searching for the perfect pair of black sandals and reading blogs about the cast of “Twilight.” I remember that I promised not to get sucked up in the virtual hugs and smiles and pillow fights. And I tried to resist. Really. But how am I, a mere mortal, supposed to resist the virtual allure of getting smacked in the head with a rock star pillow?
And then there are the water fights. I ask you, who among us can resist a virtual water fight? I can load any number of water guns with anything from lemonade, to, er, a substance that closely resembles lemonade, but obviously isn’t. Anyway, I can squirt all my friends. And they can squirt me back. And we all use lemonade. And the best part is, nobody ever gets wet and ruins their hair-do. How many times will that happen in real life?
Speaking of hair-dos, where else can I give my friends the gift of a lifetime – a mullet hairstyle and a can of Spam? Where else? And let’s not mention the fact that I gifted several pals with a pair of Daisy Dukes yesterday. I’ll be honest here. Some of us shouldn’t wear Daisy Dukes and I include myself in that statement. But if the Daisy Dukes are virtual, we can run around in short-shorts all day long. We are free to embrace our virtual thin thighs and photo-shopped flat tummies.
And Facebook interaction isn’t complete without quizzes. Thanks to them, I have found out things about myself that I never would have known. For example, I know now that I am truly meant to live in Greece. Or Pasadena. Or even St. Paul – which I don’t understand since I have that clear hatred for snow which everyone knows about if they’ve read my Facebook-required “25 Random Things About Me” note.
But without taking a quiz, how would I have known that in an alternate universe, I would be Jerry Garcia? I mean, I always loved his ties, but who knew I was meant to be a hippie musician? Certainly not anyone who has seen me shop in the kinda-chubby-mom department at Macys.
Oh, all right, the quizzes are time suckers. And yes, I was depressed for days after discovering that I had the lowest score amongst my friends for the ’80s hair band quiz. But I bounced back with that punk rock quiz. Nobody knows the Dead Kennedys better than I do. OK, one person did, but I unfriended him as soon as I found out.
But what about the thrill of Mafia Wars? Where else on the planet is it legal for me to put a hit out on my husband? You know, other than New Jersey? But I have listened, friends and family and I limit my Facebook Mafia Wars game time. And not just because they made it an app on my phone.
Of course, to me Facebook is more than just quizzes or virtual murder. On Facebook, I can support causes that are near and dear to my heart. For example, I am a strong supporter of “Life is Too Short to Drink Cheap Wine.” So you can see I’m not just wasting my time here. I am the voice of change.
But I know that you have my best interests at heart. I know you want me off Facebook and into a world that doesn’t involve so many quizzes and status updates and friending people I haven’t seen since the second grade. So I’m trying. Really, I am. As of today, I am limiting my Facebook interaction. I want you to know I’m moving on. To Twitter.
I mean, how harmful can Twitter be? One hundred and forty carefully crafted characters and that’s it. Of course, it does take a while to read the 1,500 people I’m following. But hey, at least I’m not putting hits out on anyone.
