UPDATE

I joined Facebook again. I have no friends though which serves only to confirm the reality I am living on a daily basis. I have no intention of making any friends on Facebook as of yet. I am considering it a social experiment of sorts. I want to watch. I want to see who your friends are. Yep. That's it. That's all. That's me. The very ironic thing here is this is exactly how things would go in what I call "real life." For example, let's say there is a big ass party whose guest list includes almost everyone I've ever known and also everyone who is six degrees separated or less. Turns out this is similar to the party we had in high school. Myself and each of my two older siblings each invited only four people. So how in god's name did 1082 people show up? And that count includes the police and late comer TM, our chaperon and babysitter for the weekend (the party then ended). Back to FB (that's cool slang for Facebook - oh I keep revealing my uncool by defining my subtle humor) (and where are all these parentheses coming from?)

So here it is a live modern day party. This is exactly what I would do. I would sit in a corner near someone I knew very well or near the beer and I would watch. If anyone ambled over and noticed and actually engaged me in real conversation (i.e. email or phone or in person) I could talk your ear off. I might even interest you. Or find you interesting. But from afar everyone either looks far too self assured or far too idiotic. The parallels to facebook are astounding. But then near the end of the night... what happens? Yes. You do know me well. I have had too much to drink and then I start talking to everyone and she and he and all of you all are my very very bestest friends. Until I sober up... If nothing else I may antagonize pdawg into a response.

I just can't help it

I have to do this. It's an urge, an instinct, a knee jerk reaction and something I know all too well should be kept under wraps in the name of my new mantra of "universal patience." But I just can't help it. I have a confession to make. Today for the third time I have activated an account on Facebook. The first time I did it because I realized I couldn't see other people's stuff unless I joined. After I poked around a little and realized how creepily voyeuristic I was being I deactivated my account. I was satisfied that I was not missing anything.

The second time I reactivated (they make it so damn easy) and decided, "Well, if everyone is doing it then it must be fun or useful. And, gosh, look how many friends you can have in list form with pictures at a moment's notice on those not so happy days. Yes, I surely must join." I did it again. For about five minutes this time. I couldn't shake that creepy feeling. I kept looking over my shoulder to see which one of my "friends" might be watching me. Deactivated again. This time I laughed at myself for what I consider my own foolishness because I know better than to think this would appeal to me.

Today, my third and I highly doubt last time I reactivated my account I was clear on my motives. I wanted to spy on people, see what pics they had up, see who some of their "friends" are. I must admit I really got a good chuckle this time. I think Facebook allows an entirely new age of connecting in a disconnected way and even offers a new definition on the term "disconnected." As I peeped in on all of you (yes, I know anyone who might be reading this has an account, suckers -- no privacy allowed here!) I noticed some of the people who actually are my friends' pictures of their "friends" and kept saying things out loud like "Hah! He isn't your friend. You just told me you HATE him!" and "That's a coworker, numbrain, not a friend" and "I doubt you've even met that person."

I realize my criticism sounds like I think I am better than all that. And I don't think I am better than anybody. My friends, these are people who I have spoken to on a somewhat regular basis over the years, have met my kids, know my birthdate, have a vague idea of my favorite colors, movies or jokes and probably have my phone number and know where I live, know that I think myself much much worse than anyone I ever encounter. So we can scrap that. The thing is Facebook seems really really CREEPY to me.

With all the True Crime stories I watch and read there are many many cyber stalker types out there. So here's a scenario: someone introduces themselves at the grocery store, wait that's not gonna happen -- a crazy cashier thinks you're cute and realizes you resemble his last (dead) girlfriend, you pay by credit card, he has your name. He activates his deactivated account and looks you up. There are a lot of Mary Smith's so this is like finding a needle in a haystack. But wait, no it's not, there's your picture right there. Yep that's her, he says. I wonder where she lives or works. Let's see who some of her friends are. Oh, okay, looks like she works at Nationnarrow Insurance Co. He drives over to NN and follows you home. He takes his time, gets to know all your interests and even friends and finally your routine. He approaches you knowing everything and you think "I will go on one date with him." He kills you on the first date with a gun from long range. No DNA, no trail, no nothing. You are dead and he goes to work the day shift at Krogers the next day.

So seriously, how could I in good conscience and with this kind of safety awareness join Facebook? I actually may keep activating and deactivating to see if they send me any warnings on that. I will keep you posted through this blog that keeps me in touch with people I know - no pics, no real names even though I know who you are and you knwo who I am. No one has any interest in randomly searching blogs and even if they knew anything about me they'd have to know me or someone I know to really find me. See where I'm going with this?? Be safe. Oh and if you really want to keep in touch with "friends" there's this really cool thing called "going out to dinner" or if you want to get really retro "hanging out" -- I miss those days.

Word

As in "Word Up" or "Word to your sister" or "What was that all about?" -- this shout goes out to you (you know who you are):

-To you, very attractive, middle-aged woman of at least one small child that I spied at McDonald's play land. While we all do our best to look our best whatever that may mean on any given day, your slightly short sweater and slightly low riding jeans that separated when you sat down to reveal several inches of your red thong gave me a giggle. Heh.heh. I wonder if she knows what that looks like.

-To you, older gentleman who rushed in front of me at the Kroger self-checkout. I had twice as many items as you and an 18 month old in tow. You got to that station first while I took the next one that opened up and I STILL FINISHED WAY BEFORE YOU. Save your energy for getting ahead somewhere else in life, buddy.

-To you, City of Dublin. The "No Sledding" signs that you posted have been taken out by hordes of children on sleds many of whom are unable to read. Accept it. It's a hill. It has snow on it. Sleds will rule.

-To you, Michelle Obama. Please make it easier on moms -- not harder. We're all pulling for you. So far.

-To IKEA, I could really use some words in the assembly instructions. Nothing fancy. "TOP" or "BOTTOM" would do...

That's all I got for today.

No Touch Sensor

I went out last night with a couple of my cronies. That's code for "old women friends." We talked about the usual -- kids, husbands, ex-husbands, jobs, physical ailments, extended family members and the internet. In that order. One high point of the evening came at the very beginning when the young waiter with a behind the ear tattoo of an ax or a broom or something or other, asked for our id's. I would have been flattered if I didn't think he was required to card everyone who ordered alcohol. I mentioned that to him and he replied, "I only have to card the beautiful ones." Bam. Corny yet effective. Large tip secured. (that's what she said)

The other honorable mention item of the night was when I went to the ladies room. I spent a while there drying my hands with the "No-Touch Sensor." The problem I was having was the button that activated the the hand dryer was a big red rectangle that was labeled NO TOUCH SENSOR. DO NOT TOUCH. As I read that my finger was drawn to the bright button like a paper clip to a super magnet. I had no choice really. The first time I touched it tentatively and looked around for hidden cameras. The second and third times I pressed the button multiple times with reckless abandon. It felt so wrong yet so right.

Main lesson of the evening: I really need to get out more often.

No elbows on the table, please

Table manners. Ever since Pdawg sat down and broke bread with my family and told the kids it was impolite to put elbows on the table a new battleground has been created for me. Thanks, Pdawg. But it's probably not what you think. They are telling me and each other to get elbows off the table and GTC is chiming in on it as well (as he loudly farts and admonishes the barking spider). I totally disagree with this one. Before I get started here, can anyone tell me WHY it is impolite to put your elbows on the table? Yeah, don't strain yourselves to come up with a clever answer because there just isn't one. I did some quick research and the best explanation I saw was the one that came from the olden days in England when people were seated on only one side of somewhat shaky tables and if folks leaned on the thing that was the end of dinnertime at least on top of the table. Makes sense. That would be totally impolite to tip a table and dump dinner.

It reminds me of the pot roast story some may have heard where a young woman, the third generation in her family, took her turn at hosting dinner and cooking the infamous "Granny's Pot Roast." After she prepared the meat to cook with the top secret recipe she grabbed a carving knife and cut the top third of the roast off before placing it in the oven. Her husband walks by and asks, "Why did you cut the top off?" She replies, "It's right here in grandma's recipe. And I've seen grandma do this many, many times." Then her mother arrives and her dad looks in on the roast. Her dad comments, "I've always wondered why they cut the top of that perfectly good meat," to which his wife replies, "It's in my mom's recipe. She's always done that." Though everyone is clueless as to why they have continued to do this. When the grandma arrives her granddaughter works up the nerve to ask her why the top of the roast is cut off. The grandma tells her, "My oven was never big enough so I had to cut the top off."

As so it goes for elbows on the table. Sometimes "because" or "because I said so" works just fine when I correct the kids but not on this one.

Wait for it...

Time again to revisit the concept of Universal Patience. Simply brilliant. The less I talk the less I really need to say. It is magnificent. I barely even need to blog though I realize mostly the same principles apply no one is really out there when it comes this spot. I do not feel sorry for that. In fact I am working into a very comfortable place with the notion that I could blab on and on about almost anything in the most offensive (or not) of manners and virtually no one would be offended (or not).

It is similar to the feeling I had once we moved into a different home and realized that when the blinds were all pulled there was no way anyone could see inside(you know who you are, freak!) I always worried about that at the old place due to the flimsy curtains that donned the front and back windows. Back then I used to have to army crawl past those windows when I decided to run naked throughout the house. Now I can walk, run, skip, dance and whatever else I deem necessary while naked with no fear of being seen. No more rug burns on my stomach. What a relief.

And so today I am grateful for being in this home. A note of caution, however, as this statement relates to universal patience and waiting -- tomorrow the ceiling may cave in and I will regret proclaiming my perhaps premature glee.

I swear I am not drunk or high. Just loving the new year.

New Year, New Blogspot

I took down Alternative to Human Contact for several reasons. Partly technical difficulties that I continued to encounter and partly because, well, it got old reading and rereading my own blog over and over so I could watch the counter go up. That was my first attempt in the blogging world. After a brief hiatus I have decided to reinvent my little corner here in the blogging world. It's kind of like that urge some people get every few months or so to move around furniture in a room. I had an urge like that so before I opened up my twisted mindset again to anyone reading this (including myself) I cut my hair.

I have done this frequently in the past few years or so. It started as a money saving thing and developed into an amusing past time. Today I cut my hair because it amused me. If I did not have a dinner party this Saturday I would have cut all of it not just the front and sides. And I might have cut it shorter. Also, I must always account for the gigantic white mole which has claimed the back of my head as its home. If not for that I might even shave my head. Just when you think you know a person.

Today I am feeling all full of resolutions. Lose weight? Way overdone in my opinion. I am as healthy as I'm gonna be. Moving on...One thing I'd like to accomplish this year is "to know when to stop talking." It is perhaps my biggest and most daunting new year's resolution to date. I will rely on what I call UNIVERSAL PATIENCE. This principle is so ingenious and innate yet so difficult and overlooked at the same time. I believe as a nation we are so encouraged to speak our minds and have an opinion that we have come to believe others always want to hear what we think. Not true, my friends, not true. I have come to this realization the roundabout sort of way which is how I do most things. You can imagine my shock as I realized I hate when people share too much with me or share something that really doesn't need sharing only to find out I have the identical flaw. Kind of like I am doing now. Mark my words, though -- universal patience. If you aren't sure about sharing something or whether you should voice something just wait. As long as you can -- wait. Plain and simple. Shut the f up. I promise you, it will serve you well. Even if you are sure it's your turn to share or talk and everyone is dying to hear your words -- shut the f up. Then see what happens. I contend you will be amazed. It's crazy the things I am able to hear when I am not talking or thinking about what I am going to say next. I have learned all kinds of things that were not covered in Kindergarten.

But enough -- too much really.

Happy New Year.