I've got a Facebook account now. But not one of those "I'll friend you, you friend me," kinda deals. It's basically for keeping up with The Ellas & former students & a stray blood relation or 2.
Still don't "get" the Wall thingy, where one may write random (well, sometimes not so random) missives for all the world (or at least one's "friends") to see. And I'm proud to say that my chicas have already wiped out their FB snaps of all their crazy shenanigans. Don't want future employers to get the goods on 'em, don'tcha know.
I do, however, have a funny Facebook tale to relate today. Ella Numera Dos was "Facebook Stalking" (zooming around to the pages of long-lost high school "friends," annonymously apprising the current sad states of the once-"popular" girls' lives) & a "friend suggestion" popped up.
The FB computer droids were recommending that Dos "friend" a recent Facebook convert. She let out a slight shriek & summoned me to the family room, where she was multi-tasking at that moment~Facebooking, scanning witchy sites like F* My Life & watching "Real World DC."
"Mom, guess who's on Facebook?"
I, of course, had no clue.
Well, it was my time to let out a shriek. Or rather, a sharp intake of breath. When quizzed later, Mr. Fairway said he needed to open an account for "work." Networking, or some such deal. And for the record, he has no profile, no profile snap, 9 "friends," & is a "fan" of the place where he golfs.
Some folks just shouldn't go near popular social networking sites, correctamundo?
I snagged today's Superior Snap, BTW, in 1996, my second year into my gig as Mrs. Scribe. The gals are my first newspaper eds. They're all turning 32 this year. And they're my "friends" on Facebook.
Welcome to the New Millenium, where virtual is almost as good as the real thing, right?