This Facebook thing has me all discombobulated.

After I sent out a few book manuscripts, I was looking for a place to post my bio — the one that begins “Kelly Kazek was born in whichever year adds up to her being 35.”

I wanted publishers to have access to the information so I decided to set up a Facebook page. But I never could get my daughter Shannon to say home long enough to show me how to use it.

Finally, I signed up and posted my bio, figuring I’d learn how to actually use the thing later.

Later came last week.

First, I got emails from a couple of former coworkers who asked to be my friend.

I thought, “Awwww.”

Well sure.

The only problem was, I wasn’t sure how to let them know I wanted to be their friend, too. There was no box to check for “I like you. Do you like me?”

Plus, I couldn’t remember my Facebook password.

So I did something completely unSouthern: I ignored them.

Then, I checked my e-mail one morning and had dozens of friend requests.

I felt downright popular, like a kid standing in the middle of the playground with a box full of Popsicles on an August day.

I couldn’t ignore these people any more than I could neglect to wave when I passed someone — stranger or not —on the way into the Piggly Wiggly. It just wasn’t done.

I called Shannon for help and she did what any devoted teenage daughter would do in an emergency situation like this: laughed her hindend off.