Winter Storm Watcher

January 27, 2011

Greetings from The Polar Ice Cap, otherwise known as New Jersey.  We have 15 new inches of snow today in my town.  We haven’t seen a patch of our  lawn since Christmas Day.  People are getting cranky.  Our local Home Depot is bringing in spare snow blowers from its Utah locations to keep up with demand.  It has been quite a winter, and it’s only January.

But I don’t mind all of this.  I’m a freak — I sort of love it.  Always have. 

There’s the beauty.

The quiet.

Kids in pajamas.  Hot chocolate.  Baking.  (Or, slicing pre-made cookie dough and placing it in the oven until gooey.  But whatever — it counts, right?)

{Are you kidding me?  What about the shoveling, the freezing cold, the cranky kids crawling up the walls, the grocery store madness and the treacherous driving?  What do you have to say about that?  HUH?}

Yeah, yeah, all that gets annoying.  I’m not toally zen, trust me.  But I just like a good snowy winter for the most part.

So here’s my real guilty pleasure in a snow storm.  Two words:  Storm Watch.  It’s true, I love to watch it unfold on the news — and it’s always in three distinct stages. 

The Before:  Watching the system, looking at the projected track, timing, etc.  The interviews with the sand truck guys.  The lame statements from transit companies and the local government.  The footage of people in the supermarket or at the hardware store, saying ridiculous things, buying obscene amounts of supplies for The End of Days. 

The During:  I love me some good shots of the road conditions, the sanders in action and the complaining jerks who still drive for non-essential purposes, despite all warnings (see Before).  And of course, the reporters assigned to the wretched “stand in the heart of the storm and report back live” assignment.  (Full apologies to my dear friend R, who has this very job at times.  But she rocks it.)  The storm timeline is honed and the anticipated total snowfall refined — complete with the scrolling ticker of local school closures.  Bring.  It.

[Side note:  As a kid in a very rural town, the most reliable way to find out if school was delayed or canceled was to listen for a series of sirens to sound from the local volunteer fire company.  No, I’m not kidding.  Yes, I’m 100 years old.  Perhaps smoke signals or carrier pigeons would have worked as well.]

Ooooh and the airport sleepers.  Love them.  That’s kind of heartless — sorry.  I’m sure my mom taught me better than to have my entertainment come at the expense of folks sleeping on a nasty chair at JFK.  Clearly, karma will come full circle on me one day.

The After:  The Man on the Street interviews complaints.  The government cleanup, or lack thereof.  The statistics — often accompanied by The Surprise Factor (“Folks, we sure didn’t anticipate this one to be quite so bad.”)  And then the big pièce de résistance — Oh, I do love a good, final, official, going-in-the record-books snow accumulation chart.   

 

And I secretly love to win, or at least place well, in the rankings. (“You guys got 5 inches?  Oh, really?  It must have turned to sleet earlier for you.  We got 9.77489 at the top of the last hour…I, uh, heard.”).

Just to be clear — because I don’t want anyone to misunderstand.  I don’t revel in anyone’s injury or peril.  I’m not pro-hypothermia and I don’t ever find car accidents amusing.  At all.  I totally respect the overtime and hard work that all kinds of professions put in during a snow storm to keep us safe.  And I don’t want anyone delivering a baby on the side of an icy highway.  So, remember, I’m talking about the rest of it — the fluff, the collective madness of a snow storm.  That is where my nerdy Storm Love resides.  

***End of ethical disclaimer***

So.  Everyone is already groaning about a few new inches that we’re expecing over the weekend.  Fine by me.  And then, there’s some vague reference from the meterologists along the lines of  “Let’s not even get into what’s possibly on the radar for Tuesday.”  Yes, they are now just about withholding information because the Metro NYC area’s collective psyche just can’t handle any more thoughts of snow. 

Except me — I’m tuned in and ready for The Before to begin.  Again.

{All TV shots courtesy WABC-TV NY}

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Filed Under: Borderline Neuroses, Entertainment, Places Near and Far 16 Comments

Toy Story Redux

December 13, 2010

Greetings from Pre-Holiday Crazytown.  Surely you’ve been there, or perhaps you are even visiting right now.  My stay here will last about two weeks, during which time I may implode.

Big work deadlines.  Hosting 20 people for Christmas.  A not-really-decorated house.  An intimidating shopping list.  And more big work deadlines (bah humbug, Corporate America).

If I did yoga, this would be where I’d insert some appropriate term to describe how I should be clear, calm and focused.  Instead I just had my third cup of coffee and wish I still smoked cigarettes.

In my travels through this land of madness, I went to Toys R Us on Friday night.  No, I wasn’t thinking clearly.  Yes, I regretted it immediately. 

But there was an upside.  In my sort of punchy and way overtired state, I really got a strange kick out of some of the toys on the shelves.  Let me break from my insanity for a few minutes to share some of my amusement.

Item #1:  Barbie Glam Vacation Jet.  So, for those of you who wondered how Barbie fared coming out of the recession, don’t worry.  She’s living large and travels exclusively by private jet now.  I guess she ditched the motorhome of my childhood years, moved on to the convertible and then either met a very handsome multi-millionaire or did a hard-core renogiation of her contract with Mattel.  Either way, well played, Barbie.  And if you’re wondering who the brunette is on the packaging, it must be her new and opportunistic BFF who has latched on to the jet-setting lifestyle.  Or one of the Kardashians.  (As for Barbie’s whereabouts, those are her feet on the far right-hand side of the photo — I couldn’t get the whole box in the shot — but she is sipping drinks in the cabin with her seat definitely not in the upright position). 

Item #2:  The McDonald’s Drive-Through Center.  First of all, it was news to me that McDonald’s has a whole line of toys.  So, not only can you get this fabulous set, but you can also really pimp it out with a host of fast food and other accessories (the cash register and, of course, the McFlurry maker) for the full Golden Arches experience.  Trust me, I’m not all sanctimommy when it comes to fast food, but this just seems, well, a bit off.  I don’t need my toddlers knowing about the McRib just yet (I fear it myself).  Or a deep fryer.  Maybe it’s just me.

Item #3.  The 100% Official Simpsons Super Donut Factory.  Doh!  Now we’re talking.  I could make a case to bump an Easy Bake Oven from any kid’s list in favor of this find.  I’m waiting for them to add the Kwik-E-Mart toy that produces Squishees.  Next year, Santa — please!

If you guys have others to add, please share.  I need the entertainment. 

And now back to my regularly scheduled chaos.

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Filed Under: Entertainment, Holidays 4 Comments

Christmas Music Confessional

December 10, 2010

It’s true — I love Christmas music.  But that’s not the confession — the confession is that some of my favorites are cheesy.  Extremely cheesy.  And I know I’m not alone — it’s just something nobody talks about openly.  A dirty little secret, if you will.

But, look, I think we all get a pass when it comes to Christmas music.  And I’ll go out on a limb and tell you my favorites if you tell me yours.  Deal? 

(This is feeling like a precarious one-way agreement right about now, but I’ll go ahead and trust you to play fair.  Here we go.)

  • I’ll start out safe and lead with John Lennon’s “Happy Christmas (War is Over).”  This song kills me.  Tears — every time.  Gorgeous and sad and sweet.  As long as John & Yoko weren’t singing it naked in bed — that would ruin it for me.  If you want to veer this song into cheesy territory, it’s just one remake away with Neil Diamond’s cover (I’m not a fan of that one.  Trust me, I can do cheesy — as you’ll soon see — but I need the original in  this case).

 

  • “Do They Know It’s Christmas?”  As a child of the 80s, I won’t even bother apologizing for loving this song.  It’s my birthright.  I remember my sister getting the 45 single (gulp) and we played it over and over.  And the video — Sweet Jesus.  I. Loved.  It.  My friends and I would make sure we knew which artist was singing which part and we especially held our breaths for the killer solos by Simon LeBon and Bono (the latter still being my favorite part of the song).  I just looked online at the full Band Aid roster of singers and I think I feel my leg warmers falling down.  Kool and the Gang?  Really? YouTube Preview Image

 

  • Apparently nobody comes home for Christmas and there are all kinds of ways to sing about it.  In that theme are two of my favorites — similarly titled yet very different songs:  “Baby Please Come Home for Christmas” and “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home).”    Both of these have multiple versions, but on the first song I like the Eagles and the Aaron Neville covers the best.  On the second, there is no comparison to the old Darlene Love version  — but the U2 version is also great.

 

  • Veering further into total holiday depressive mode — I love, love Joni Mitchell’s “River,” even if it makes me want to jump out of a window in utter despair.  And — cheesy alert:  There is a little-known remake of this song that is sung by, of all people, Robert Downey, Jr.  Apparently, he sang it during one of his guest spots on Ally McBeal and it’s fabulous (the cover, not the Ally McBeal episode).  The man can sing — and I just love him overall, so there’s that.  Say what you will.

OK I’m saving my truly cheesy favorites for last.  And I’m really hoping someone is going to come to my defense on these. 

  • I can’t even talk to you if you can’t get behind Dan Fogelberg’s “Same Old Lang Syne.”  No, I’m not joking.  “Met my old lover in the grocery store — The snow was falling Christmas Eve…”  Yes, that one.  Fucking kills me.

    • ?

And, finally, some real risky choices to tie this up.  Strangely, both of these last two songs have the same name but are entirely different.  So, under the category of “All I Want for Christmas Is You”…

  • This one is a family favorite but not terribly well-known, unless you are one of the five global members of the Vince Vance & the Valiants Fan Club.  I have no idea what else they sing — I think they are a country outfit — but what a great song, released in 1989.   It’s got a twangy, sort of retro feel.  And it’s pretty cheesy.  Bring it! ?
  • Lastly, yes, I’ll say it.  I love the Mariah Carey song.  I know, I know.  Cheesy.  But I’m owning it.  I’m not typically a Mariah fan but there is something about this song.  It reminds me of the old Phil Spector Wall of Sound  (and if you don’t know what that is, then you have no business shaming me for my song choices — that’s a fair deal, I think).  And after all the other downer songs I listed, it’s nice to have an upbeat, (almost) happy one in the mix.

So there you go — those are some of my holiday favorites, in no particular order.  Honorable mention to The Ramones’ “Merry Christmas (I Don’t Want to Fight Tonight),” Ella Fitzgerald/Louis Armstrong’s “Baby It’s Cold Outside” and The Beach Boys’ “Merry Christmas Baby.”  I may add more later.  But in the meantime, who’s going to play nice and tell me theirs?

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Filed Under: Entertainment, Holidays 18 Comments

Short Circuits

December 6, 2010

My brain is short-circuiting today. Not one full and coherent thought has been produced. So, I’m sorry, but all I’ve got right now are a bunch of disjointed and not terribly important nuggets. Or maybe more like morsels, since I keep thinking about baking.  You know, holidays and all.  Or just Mondays in general.

I’ll stick with food for a minute (well, forever).   You may remember my quest to visit Eataly.  Well, I went and it was fantastically odd. 

Would I do my grocery shopping there?  No, not at $32/bottle for olive oil.  But I’ll gladly return to consume their wine and eat delicious cheese.  In fact, I’m going back next week — after all, it wouldn’t be a fair assessment without hitting the gelato.

Moving on to religion, naturally (shouldn’t it always follow cheese, wine and ice cream?).  My in-laws informed us over the weekend that the church where we were married in Manhattan has been bestowed the distinct and apparently rare-ish honor of Basilica status. What this means will take a better Catholic than me to explain but I do love Old St Patrick’s — lots of history there, both for New York City and for Fordeville. Plus I think our marriage might be more binding now. I told P now he’s really stuck with me. You don’t mess with Basilica vows.

Back on the fury ranch, my commentary on AT&T’s inability to carry a decent signal was apparently not an anomaly.  Today, Consumer Reports came out with the results of their survey on wireless carriers, where AT&T came in dead last.  The PR gal in me felt pretty bad for my flack counterparts in their shop — those are surely not fun questions to field from the press — but not without some Schadenfreude.

OK, we’ve covered food, church and phones — I think we’re good for now.  Sorry you had to be on the receiving end of my randomness. Let’s hope full brain functionality and thought connectivity is restored tomorrow.  Maybe I need a baked good to get me back on track.

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Filed Under: Entertainment, Food & Drink, Places Near and Far, Tech Bits 1 Comment

In Search of a Signal

December 2, 2010

Dear AT&T,

As a long-time customer, I thought I would take this opportunity to point out there is an island in your alleged service area that you might want to look into.  It’s not that big — about 13×2  miles — so I guess I can see how it has been seemingly ignored all this time with virtually no signal for service. 

But there are a lot of people crammed onto this small-ish island.  1.6 million residents, in fact.  Add in commuters and tourists and you’ve got over 2.5 million people on the island during most work days.  Yep, there’s commerce here too — with lots of big shiny buildings.  It’s pretty busy, I’d say.

And you know what?  Many of these people want to use their cell phones, their email and gaming devices of choice.  Every day.  Reliably.

Back when I first became your customer in 1996, with my first cell phone (antenna and all), I didn’t expect much in terms of coverage.  In fact, we only used our cell phones sporadically then.  We weren’t texting and certainly I didn’t have email on my phone.  But that’s when I got my cell phone number that I have retained to this day.

I moved on to a Blackberry when my then-employer told me to do so, circa 2001 or 2002.  How cool was that?  I could talk *and* have my work email on the go (which quickly went from novelty to life-changing curse).  And there was a big wheel on the side of this device to scroll up and down — very cutting-edge at the time.  I had plenty of emails that didn’t go through, attachments I couldn’t open and a ton of dropped calls.  I was used to it, though it became increasingly puzzling, as everyone on the island seemingly had a similar device in their hand.  Hm.

Now I have an iPhone.  I debated this long and hard — I really did — and, in the end, I signed your mandatory two-year service contract in exchange for this device.  Funny, though, when I think about a contract, it implies a two-way agreement to me.  So I’m curious — what’s your obligation under the terms of this alleged contract?  Because my iPhone does all kinds of cool things — as long as I don’t try to talk on it or receive incoming data on a timely basis.   And I’m starting to get a headache from looking at that spinning orb all the time that indicates my wait for data to load.  But it sure is neat otherwise.

I was looking at your coverage map online and it’s odd because this island is color-coded under “Best Coverage.”  And yet this morning I nearly threw my iPhone across the room because I couldn’t get a simple web page to load (again).  But I did hear a crazy rumor recently — or perhaps it was just urban legend — that some people have witnessed a full five bars on their signal icon!  I had no idea it went beyond three.  Is this new?  I guess that’s encouraging progress, for a small island like this.

My frustration is my own fault, really.  I let my loyalty to my cell phone number drive my purchasing decisions over the last 14 or so years.  I held out hope that you’d improve your service because, well, I figured you’d just have to by sheer open marketplace competitive principles.  Apparently, that’s not so.  (Well played on that iPhone monopoly, by the way — at least for the time being.  Verizon — can you hear me now?)

Anyway, you may want to send one of your people over to look into this.  There are plenty of bridges, tunnels, ferries and even heli-pads that allow easy access to our island for a service call.  Just give us a four-hour window and one of us locals will be here to meet you — as long as we can receive your call, text or email.

Signed,

Ready to Hang Up for Good

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Filed Under: Entertainment, Places Near and Far, Tech Bits, That Which Drives Me Crazy 6 Comments

The Day After

November 26, 2010

Sometimes tradition gets a little warped along the way. 

I’m referring to one of my favorite days of the holiday season, which is today.  Not because it’s Black Friday, but because it’s the day when my dad’s side of the family celebrates — in our own special way. 

This started when my aunt and uncle were in the restuaurant business.  They always had to work on Thanksgiving so they started hosting their dinner on Friday instead.  Yes, we have the whole turkey dinner, lots of friends and family, great conversation, tons of cocktails. 

But we also have a dirty little secret — an annual night of highly competitive and somewhat unorthodox gaming.  Catch Phrase is our Thanksgiving game of choice (come Christmas, I’ll cover Extreme Charades).

The instrument of competitive holiday evil

Quick primer for those who don’t know the game.  Basically, this disc of terror beeps with increasing frequency as it’s passed around a circle, while each person has a turn, and the opposing team gets a point if you’re left holding the game when it buzzes.  Your turn requires you to look at the word you get on the screen and describe it to your team mates until they guess it.  Sounds easy, right?  Wait until you’ve had four glasses of wine and a near-tryptophan overdose while trying to convey “Leningrad” to your equally disadvantaged team mates.

This all seems harmless enough on the surface.  But I need to reiterate that it’s *highly* competitive.  As in, yelling, screaming and utter intimidation — all in the name of advancing to the championship round (yes, we have so many people that we use a bracket tourney set up) and ultimately claiming the title.

Yeah.  We’re out for blood. 

The hard part is the arrival of a few newcomers every year.  These poor people — they arrive for a nice holiday meal and maybe they’ve been told we’ll play a game afterwards.  How sweet. 

Bwahahahaha.

Meanwhile, my cousin, my sister’s boyfriend and I are sizing up the newbies over dinner — their overall global knowledge, speed of response and academic background (would asking for transcripts be too much?). Because the teams are randomly drawn, you can really get hosed by having a new player on board.  Or my Aunt J.  She’s an awful player — truly — but she’s the hostess, so there’s a required level of acceptance/resignation that applies only to her.  A highlight of her Catch Phrase career was calling out “Uncle Ben’s Tavern” instead of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”  It’s true. Then there was my cousin’s neighbor who thought “Lasagna” was “Los Angeles.”  That one really cost us dearly and I have lobbied to never allow him to come back.  What a shit head.  If my kids ever turn into such a Catch Phrase liability, I’ll be so upset.  I have to start training them young.

Keep in mind that this all happens while wearing required, hand-crafted headgear to designate your team affiliation (Pilgrims vs Indians, Santa vs Reindeer, etc). So just picture some tipsy, screaming, competitive lunatics with homemade headgear and a beeping Catch Phrase disc.  It hits a fever pitch at the championship round with all eliminated teams gathered around as spectators.  I’m pretty convinced you can hear us down the street.  Really.

Anyway, it has been a few years since I was on the winning team but I’m feeling pretty good about 2010 — as long as I don’t get any dumb-ass newcomers.  Wish me luck.

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Filed Under: Entertainment, Family, Holidays 5 Comments

One Track Mind

November 21, 2010

I would love to know what causes a song to get stuck in your head.  We’ve all had it happen and sometimes it’s a couple of hours, maybe a day or two.

Well, I’m now going on five days since I watched the last episode of Glee, and in that time, Gwyneth Paltrow has basically moved in with me.

I didn’t even know the damn song (though it appears I’m the last one on Earth to have heard it), but I liked it right away.  The sort of old school R&B sound — some hybrid between maybe Al Green and a tamer Sly Stone — sucked me in, though it was pulled off by an Oscar-winning blonde, who, apparently,  has zero flaws.  (By the way, am I the only one who wanted Gwyneth not to be a great singer, to make the rest of us feel just a little better?  If she sucks at something, just one thing, that would be great.)

So there was the catchy song, over and over in my head, but not knowing the words was making it worse — or so I thought. I downloaded it and figured if I played it a few times I’d get it out of my system.  If I could sing along, instead of mumbling like a lunatic, maybe I’d be able to purge it from my memory.

Epic fail.  Now I know all of the words and it’s like an eternal repeat loop in my head.  My kids were dancing to it yesterday at breakfast.  P likes it too.  We need a family intervention for someone to come and take Gwynnie away.

I had some time alone in the car yesterday and blasted the radio in the hopes of deleting Gwyneth & Co from my head.  No.  I even resorted to Christmas songs.  Ugh, no.  I watched Thomas the Tank Engine with my son and figured I’d at least get the annoying Sodor tunes to take over for a while inside my mind.  No.  Nothing is working.  And I like the song (somehow, still) but please — somebody, make it stop. 

I may have to be hit in the head, hard.

In the meantime, I figure maybe I shouldn’t suffer alone.  So, here — welcome to my personal hell.  Enjoy. 

YouTube Preview Image

Who’s on Glee next week?  I should prepare myself now.

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Filed Under: Borderline Neuroses, Entertainment, That Which Drives Me Crazy 4 Comments

Back in Business

November 15, 2010

My husband has so much patience.  He can wait and wait for things to be precisely as they should be.  He is highly methodical, very detail-oriented and he never backs down from a challenge.

So when the Trojan Horse virus punks came along and seized the full contents of our computer about six weeks ago (more on that here and here), they were messing with the wrong guy.

P was on a mission and, let me tell you, his resolve paid off.   The stand-off has ended.  Fordeville wins.  The home computer is up and running.

In my infinite impatience, I was already thinking about which replacement computer we should buy.   We were done for, I figured.  Not P.  He was researching the virus nonsense during the work day when he had time, and then kept bringing home new CDs, memory sticks, etc., to download various remedies onto our imprisoned computer.  Foiled, foiled and foiled again — until one night, I heard this coming from our upstairs office at some ungodly hour:

“Yessssssssssssssssssss.  Got it.” 

This was followed by the joyous sound of Windows booting up — something we had not heard in weeks.

We had won!  But not.  By the next day, the Trojan Punks had resumed control.  This was like a carefully played chess match.  Not only were we dealing with strategy, but also some psychology and trickery. 

My husband *loves* this shit.  Not me — I was over it.  I continued combing through the holiday circulars for our new computer.

This went back and forth for weeks.  Trojan Punks up, then P resumed control.  Then foiled again the next day — on and 0n.

Until this weekend, when there was a series of major breakthroughs.  (Don’t ask me what they were — I was out looking for the new laptop.)

Last night, P was finally ready to cautiously claim victory.  Everything seems to be working — at least for now — but who knows what kind of damage/access occurred on the back end.  We’ll see, I guess.  Let’s just say that we’re not doing any banking on that computer in the near future.  

And if any of my blog posts were particuarly weak in the last month, perhaps I’ll blame it on the Trojan Punks.  You didn’t like that entry?  Well, they posted in my name.  Why yes, I’m sure their goal in methodically taking over our machine was to wield their power through my blog.  They just needed a platform.

Anyway, hats off to P:  Engineer by day.  Anti-Trojan warrior and general online badass by night.  ?And truly the patience of a saint.

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A World of 140 Characters

November 10, 2010

Yesterday’s Facebook post got me thinking more about oversharing, overtalking, overfriending, etc.  Let’s move on to Twitter.

Like I said, I’ve been tweeting longer than I’ve been on Facebook and I really like, even prefer, Twitter.  No, Twitter Haters, it’s not because I have to share the contents of my lunch with the world. It’s more like a dashboard of all my interests rolled into one, just scrolling in front of me in real time.  Where else can I get CNN Breaking News, followed by a tidbit of NYC history, the latest stroller reviews and today’s alleged celebrity affair/pregnancy/rehab visit — in 5 seconds flat?

It’s like a car crash that you can’t stop watching.  Here’s what I’ve got now.

And let me tell you, you don’t see the full power of Twitter until you watch a piece of national news unfold there.  Remember that whole story about the Balloon Boy?   Well, before we all knew his parents were publicity-seeking crazies, everyone was riveted by a boy trapped in a runaway hot air balloon.  And it was all over Twitter, blow by blow, from every news source.  Ditto the recent Brooklyn tornado.  I saw photos and video on Twitter before it was on the local news.

So, who is worth following?  For me, they tend to fall into these buckets:

  • News Outlets/Journalists
  • Parenting
  • Friends
  • Movies
  • Food
  • Travel
  • Celebrity nonsense
  • Brands I like
  • Work Stuff (PR, financial services)

See, it’s really not a full day until I hear what’s on the minds of Gawker, Starwood Hotels, Conan O’Brien, CNN, Slash, Ed Burns, NJ Transit Alerts, Steve Martin, my co-worker Sarah, SelfishMom, The Pioneer Woman, Bethenny Frankel, Anthony Bourdain and Stiller & Meara, to name a random few of the 226 I’m following right now.

And then, yes, I put my nonsense blurbs out there too.  It’s good that Twitter restricts me to 140 characters since being brief is not my strong suit (as you agree, rolling your eyes).  It’s a nice exercise in self-editing.

Fellow tweeters, who are some of your favorite follows I can add?  Also, anyone who’s on Tumblr, let me know how you like it. 

And yes, I clearly have the attention span of a six month-old.

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Trimming the Facebook Fat

November 9, 2010

I’m sort of a Facebook infant in the grand scheme of things.  I resisted for a long while and didn’t sign up until July of this year.  It was the same week, in fact, that Facebook announced its 500 millionth member.  I have to wonder if that milestone member was actually me — and, more importantly, shouldn’t I have won something for my impeccable timing?  I guess not.  (Mark Zuckerberg, if you get this, have your girl call my girl.)

“Wait.  You just joined Facebook in July?”

Before you call me a total dinosaur, I’ll defend myself and say I was tweeting, Linking In and Four Squaring long before I was Facebooking.  And I lurked on my husband’s Facebook account from time  to time — a sort of Beta entry, if you will.  So I wasn’t running around wondering what the heck “that Facebook” was all about.  I knew. 

It was my then-impending high school reunion that finally brought me over to the dark side.  Given that he had no affiliation whatsoever with my high school, it just would have been plain weird to sign up for the reunion under P’s account, right?  So it was time for me to bust out and get my own account with my own friends and my own ghosts of my own past.

Now, I am a captive audience to this time sucking zone of blue and white web pages.  I enjoy it.  Maybe I’m still in the extended honeymoon phase, but I like catching up with old friends and old acquaintances, seeing their photos, knowing what they are up to. 

**To an extent.**

I’ll never be the gal with hundreds of Facebook friends.  I’m not that popular, which I came to terms with years ago in the offline world, and frankly, I don’t think I like quite that many people beyond common courtesy.  But that’s OK.

You know why?  Because Jimmy Kimmel said so.

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I know the people he’s talking about  — the people whose every move is documented on Facebook.  It’s dizzying.  I’m sure there’s some relevance here to how friendship and communication have evolved over time.  And I have to believe that, at this phase of the game, entire dissertations have been devoted to some generational analysis of blah blah blah [white noise here]…so let’s leave the real insight to the academics and social media gurus who can more elegantly explain it.  Me, I’m just here to support Jimmy Kimmel.

As for the folks with hundreds of Facebook friends, if you have the time, God bless.  I have a very close relative with over 700 Facebook friends.  But I think she may be the exception to Jimmy’s late night rant — she really is friends with many of these folks.  Before you ask me how that’s possible, I’ll just stop you and say please take my word for it.  Better yet, I may ask her to guest blog about the art of maintaining a large, global friend base.  She is a master.  I can barely remember my husband’s birthday. 

As for the rest of us mere mortals who are only liked by and enjoy the company of a limited amount of people, no worries.  A few updates now and then, a photo of your kids, some life changes on Facebook — and we’re good.  I’ll try to keep it to an acceptable minimum as well.  It’s sort of the unspoken deal — well, as far as I’m concerned anyway.

And if I fail to uphold my end of the deal (and sometimes I do), you can add me to your purge list on November 17, just like Jimmy said. 

What about you guys?  Do you have some fat to trim on your FB roster or did you keep it lean?

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