Facebook is totally strange.
Myspace is weird too, of course, and mostly seems to be advertising for bands and books and products. That's why many of my colleagues get on there, to promote their stuff. And why not? Everyone is always ready to try the New Big Thing.
But Facebook is truly inane.
JANEY JONES SENDS MARSHA SMITH A HIBISCUS!
You might have the same reaction I always do, dear reader. Who the f cares?
But I promise you, messages like this fill the site.
PENNY JONES SENDS MARSHA SMITH A ROSE!
Explain to me how this is not like kindergarten.
PATSY JOHNSON SENDS MARSHA SMITH AN OBSCURE TROPICAL FUNGUS!
MARSHA SMITH DOESN'T KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON!
MARSHA SMITH SENDS ALL HER FRIENDS A SCORPION!
EAT SHIT AND DIE, YOU ASSHOLES!
Well now, I made part of that up. I don't think you can send a rose.
But really, the strangest part of all of it is the public nature of it. Every rose or flower or cup of Starbucks (as if!) you send to someone IS POSTED TO EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS.
So it's like this. I send a hibiscus to someone sort of tentatively, hoping and waiting to see what this person might say. Immediately after I do it, headlines go out across Facebook to one and all: BECKY MOTEW SENT A HIBISCUS TO FARNSWORTH JONES. NYAH NYAH!
[I post as Mary Willis there, dear reader. If you want to find me, I'll be your friend and you can send me a hibiscus]
You really have to think carefully what you do on there or even who you talk to. Not that I don't like to pore over everybody else's hibiscus choices. Gosh, look at that. Wonder what his wife thinks about it.
A casual girlfriend on there recently sent me an invitation to "go wild." Facebook gives you suggested answers, such as:
throwing a sheep, dancing, or even showering with them. I kid you not.
SHOWERING? You could end up disgracing yourself in all manner of ways on Facebook and that's why I am Pretty Darn Quiet.
Oh well, enough of that.
July so far is so-so. My town had fireworks on July 3, which we were positive were rained out until we heard them going off as we sat at my kitchen table. Oh well. We can always go upstairs and start sending zinnias on Facebook.
Nobody had more fun than Maeve on the Fourth. We celebrated by playing Let 100 Balls Fall Into The Yard.
Be here now, dear reader.
A bientot
love,
becky
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