March 21, 2009 09:27 pm
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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.
Fine. I’d figure it out on my own.
It’s not like I’m stupid (not a word from any of you).
I learned to reset my password, then quickly “confirmed” my new friends by clicking some buttons.
Done with that, I looked around my homepage, trying to figure out the purpose of this social networking business.
That’s when I was poked.
I kid you not.
Someone I did not know just up and poked me.
I didn’t even know that was legal. If I’m going to be poked, I’d like to know who’s doing the poking and a little warning might be nice.
I was beginning to rethink going public when someone messaged me she had written on my wall.
Of all the nerve! A quick look around my living room, though, told me all was well. My walls were clean.
So, seeing’s how I’m not stupid, I began to figure out that poking and wall writing are things that occur on a regular basis on Facebook and, get this, they are all VIRTUAL.
Yep. You can even send a virtual “gift” of a $1 graphic sold by the Facebook people, who, I think, are themselves virtual.
Look, I can’t afford a real gift, much less one that’s not even there. My new friends will have to settle for being poked.
And then I discovered that people on Facebook just loves them some quizzes.
One of my new friends discovered if she were a color she would be yellow, which means she is outgoing and fun.
One of the guys determined if he was an ’80s rock band he would be Boston because he rocks almost as well as he rolls. (I didn’t want to tell him, but, if I had a clue what they were talking about, I think I would be offended by that “almost.”)
Other quizzes determine “Which Andy Griffith Show character are you?” and “What flavor of cookie are you?”
Not to offend my newfound friends but I can find what flavor of ice cream I am by using the “you-are-what-you-eat” adage without ever clicking a button: I am Edy’s Double Fudge Brownie, which means I am bubbly and have a fat hindend.
But the whole quiz thing seems a little middle school to me.
Except maybe the “Are you a true redneck?” quiz. I can see the virtue in that. You really don’t want to go walking around being a redneck and be the only one who doesn’t know it.
On second thought…
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Managing Editor Kelly Kazek