Llama?

I found this in my sister-in-law's Facebook pictures:

Doesn't its neck look like a sock?

Happy Llama Day! Or, Happy Whatever the Fuck This Is Day!

I ALWAYS Forget a Face. Apparently.

I really don't check The Facebook all that often, but I've been getting more frequent updates and messages, which sends an email to my gmail, which sometimes prompts me to follow those links to see exactly what people are talking about. Sometimes.

So here's the thing - The Facebook gives me friendly "reminders" telling me that I probably have more friends! I should spend more time on this life-sucking website!

"Hey loser! You need more friends! You know, people that you might have spoken to at a party or because they are friends with your coworker. Click NOW! CLICKITY CLICK CLICKY!"

The Facebook has decided that there are hundreds of people that I "might" know just because my acquaintances are "friends" with these randoms. And at first, I didn't think that I recognized anyone, but when I started to actually pay attention to the names as I quickly clicked through, names started to ring bells. Well, only a few bells.

The problem I started having, however, was placing the names. I knew the name, but couldn't remember how I knew the name. Was she from high school or college? Was he from college or grad school? Was this someone I met in DC, or once I returned to Michigan?

Then I just closed my laptop and resumed watching Candice Olson on HGTV because she is THE AWESOME.

I thought that I was supposed to become wise in my old age. All I've got is forgetfulness and creaky knees and I love to watch home improvement/decorating shows. What the hell, LIFE?

You Guys, I KNOW Him

Besides briefly (very briefly, thank God) reconnecting with high school friends, I found one other useful thing about The Facebook: Learning that one of your friends from the dorms wrote a freaking book:

It may not be a book I would normally read, but I knew Kyle back in the day, and I can pretty much guess that it will be awesome. It'll be released next month, and I'll be picking it up. I'll most likely review it, too, though Lord knows I know absolutely nothing about genetic engineering, so you'll have to take my review with a giant grain of salt.

Congratulations, Kyle!

What Can The Facebook Do For You? Create Friendships With Inanimate Objects, Apparently

Just like me, Kelly has a total love/hate relationship with The Facebook, mostly because it's too easy to discover things about distant "friends" that one never really needed to know in the first place. Especially since there are reasons one hasn't talked to said "friends" in ten years.

Drama aside, she often calls me with hilarious tidbits that she discovers, and this one had me laughing so hard that it was just too good not to share:

"Another thing that I don't understand about Facebook is that apparently you can become friends with a cheese biscuit from Red Lobster? How does that work?"

I'm with you, Kel.

"We are excellent listeners."

Not So Dirty Little Secret

For those of you who know me on The Facebook, this probably is no shocker, because most of my "friends" on The Facebook are from my hometown. For those of you blissfully unaware of the infamous and ridiculous social networking site that is The Facebook, know that it is a total mindfuck battlefield. People who didn't talk to you more than twice in high school are now "friending" you. You see thousands of pictures of their children. You find out that one of your cousin's old roommates once went on a date with your boyfriend. And secrets that you thought were deeply buried have a way of clawing back to the surface.

So I have a secret, and it's not a huge deal, really, except that being a member of this high school group isn't going to make me any cooler than you all probably don't think I am anyway.

(What? I thought that sentence made total sense.)

I was in the high school band.

Sigh. I was outed by my former band director, who posted a ton of band nerd photos for EVERYONE TO SEE.

But yes. It's true. I was a band dork. I played the most bitchingly awesome instrument available to me, however: the saxophone. In sixth grade, my parents wanted me to play the flute, and I was all, "The flute? Fuck that, the flute fucking sucks. I'm playing the saxophone." And they, happy that I wanted to be in the band at all, especially since my trashy hometown didn't have an orchestra, gave in (oh man, did my dad want me to play the violin...).

Plus, having band as a class meant that I didn't have to take gym. And though I wasn't opposed to exercise, per se, getting sweaty would have meant having to redo my hair and when you are a girl in middle school in 1993, you can imagine what an Aqua Net nightmare that would have been.

And? I legitimately liked playing the saxophone. I was teased, but that was concurrent with the sixth grade glasses and brace-face phase. "But it is bigger than me," I agreed with the mean boys, "so it's not that funny." And I really didn't think that being called "Lisa Simpson" was that much of an insult.

Then in high school? I went to band camp. I did. For four years. And there were definitely moments worthy of "this one time, at band camp," but as we learned from Michelle in American Pie, they would mean nothing to you unless you were there.

In general, being in the high school band - at least in my hometown - wasn't horrible. Sure, its members were mostly the creme de la creme of nerdery, but there were a ton of stereotypically popular people thrown in for good measure. Guys who also played football and ran track, girls on the cheerleading squad and volleyball team - a good mix. Lots of us were on student council (although... that's kind of nerdy, too, isn't it? Sigh). But really, in my area, our band was huge - we had over 200 people. Most bands in the surrounding towns had maybe half that. We thought we were the shit.

The months before my freshman year began, we were thrown into a summer of intense practices before we even went to camp. We got to know the upperclassmen, which wasn't as scary as we expected, and it slowly dawned on us that we had a lot of work ahead. And we nervously awaited camp.

We were on edge that we, like every single freshman class before us, were going to be hazed into the ground. Our director pissed off everyone (but us) by putting a ban on hazing starting that summer, and we escaped being covered in shaving cream, peanut butter, and glitter and getting thrown in the lake. Thank God.

Camp was tiring, exhausting, draining, and sunburningly hot. We were stuck in cabins with our entire class. It was freezing in the mornings. Each year at Karaoke Night, we had to endure the senior class singing "Summer Lovin," and the last night at camp was always a cryfest.

But in the end? Those four years were a total fucking blast. I got to know really nice, really smart people I would have never had the courage to talk to in school. I dated a junior when I was a freshman. I got to act as a mentor in my senior year. Friendships solidified into lasting, lifelong relationships.

It's hard to explain, really. I suppose that it is just like going to any other themed camp. If you're not in it, you just won't get it.

The Time That I Went and Joined The Facebook and Realized That People Have Way Too Much Free Time or Possibly Not Enough to Do at Work

Sigh.

I joined Facebook.

I'm sure that most of you are all, "WTF took you so long?" while the remaining few think I'm a total asshole. And you're all right. Double win! In the words of Sarah, "You're not cool enough to not be on Facebook." And she's probably right. I mean, I work with dinosaurs and I love The Food Network.

So let me set the story straight. Back in 2004 when I was happy and carefree and just finishing grad school, my friend Pippa (Pippa!!!) told me about The Facebook. It seemed cool, and I joined. I even had a few quick friends, because at the time it was only available to college people from the Ivies and the Big Ten. And Michigan is in the Big Ten. So it works out.

I joined, I logged in once, and then I forgot all about it. Years went by, and believe it or not... life was fine without The Facebook. I know, it's hard to understand this, but I swear that it's true. Life went on. Breezy!

But then! In what seemed like a matter of days, my DC friends started moving to New York and California and everywhere in between, and I even uprooted my meager existence back to the State of Glorious Unemployment. And I soon found that people? Don't love email so very much if they're not planning on seeing you that weekend or whatever. And so, in a moment of weakness, I reactivated my account on The Facebook.

I reconnected with a few choice friends, mostly from high school, and that alone honestly made it worth the effort. But lo, that is not all that The Facebook can do! Oh no, it is magical!

The Facebook allows me to learn what people are having for dinner. This is awesome because mundane details about other people are important for my continued happiness. I can also read about what President one would be (dibs on Millard Fillmore!). OR, I can find out where a person should be living depending on the answers to questions that s/he might answer.

WHAT DELIRIOUS FUN THIS ALL IS.

And I swear to Christ, those status updates make me want to punch myself in the throat. I get that they are supposed to be quirky and fun, but it seems to me that people should be trying harder. If I were more creative, I would totally be posting hilarious status updates about how I almost got stuck in the driveway again, or how I tripped on the stairs at work and almost bowled down an entire second grade class. Or how I went back to the grocery store three times in one day because apparently a shopping list is nothing more than a mere prop to me.

(Wow, I should be on Retard Facebook, eh?)

At the same time, I rarely get around to checking my page more than a few times a week, and I really only do so when I receive an email alert. And that seems to be working for me. This damn blog takes up enough of my time and creativity - I certainly don't need another venue for distraction. I have a hard enough time updating this thing regularly.