Facebook, Shmacebook

So my extended jury that had been out for weeks has returned a verdict. I'm over it. People laughed and mocked me for weeks for not being entrenched in the new wave sweeping the nation...facebook. "MySpace for adults" is how this was billed to me. I put it off and put it off thinking that if I really needed to do a "wall-to-wall," I could just send an email. Or better, if only we had some kind of technology that allowed us to talk into a hand-held box and let our actual voice be hear in another hand-held box miles away. Bonus points if these hand-held boxes could be portable.


Now before all of my long-lost friends pick up pitchforks and storm the Charlotte area thinking "what an idiot - he never calls or emails anyways," I will concede you that small, minuscule, and largely irrelevant point. I will also admit that the basic idea of facebook is kinda neat.




Here's my problem. This monster has gotten way past the basics and is consuming peoples' entire lives. Entire lives I tell you. "How," you may ask? With these ridiculous applications. Snowball fights, joining random groups to save random endangered species, becoming "fans" of your favorite grade school teacher, pillow fights, and sending me make out kisses (oh yeah, you better believe that's happened. Unless you're ______ ______ the last thing I want is your digital lips touching mine. (I can't mention who she is because Jenny will get mad, but she's German, blond, a supermodel, and hosts a reality TV show on Bravo.) Not to mention poking people!?!? We really allow this on the internet? What does that even mean? And yes Kim, I got your "relative finder application." Let me break it down for you real simple. You don't want to know who in my family you're related to.


I just can't keep up. You can guess from how often this blog is updated how often I actually log into facebook. So if you're my fifth cousin twice removed who has sent me some application about scavenger hunting...be patient. I'll get there when I can.