Monday, February 21, 2011

A Face to Face (Book) Conversation

This was my Facebook weekend. Watched The Social Network. I hope Mark Zuckerberg's ex-girlfriend friended him. I guess Eduardo had already friended him. Would he have un-friended him, I wonder?

Michael Scott on The Office once responded to the phrase "It's not personal. It's business" with something like, "Business is personal. It's the most personal thing in the world." I thought of that during the scenes between Zuckerberg and Eduardo Saverin in the movie.

It's just amazing the catch phrases people stake their happiness on.

By the same token, Eduardo didn't seem to have a very personal relationship with the business. Then again, he started out as the sole investor! That's pretty big right there. Well, I guess he ended up with a settlement, so his dad hopefully was proud.

Anyway, the next day, I went over to my mom's to add a profile pic and family pictures on her Facebook account. I could say something like, "Oh, no! My mom's on Facebook." Ha! Ha! Saturday Night Live. Except that I, too, am a mom. I have Facebook cousins who are only a couple years older than my son.

Idea for Zuckerberg: an option to "Cousin me" instead of just "Friend me." Friending family is great, but it would be fun to "Cousin someone" on Facebook. "Brother or Sister someone" on Facebook. Not only for relatives, but for people you grew up with or feel very close to or say, "What up, 'Cuz" or "Hey, bro" to.

I've been encouraging my mom to join Facebook for a long time because it's right up her alley. It's a "social" network. My mom is very social.

As her Facebook consultant/mentor, I suggested she add her maiden name to her account, so that high school friends could find her. When she told my dad, he immediately assumed it was her way of reaching out to former boyfriends. My mom said to put that in her info. "I'm interested in reaching out to former boyfriends." See? It's going to be fun to have my mom on Facebook.

My mom ordered pizza, and I had the opportunity to have a face-to-face conversation with J.J. People say nobody interacts face-to-face anymore because of things like Facebook, but J.J. and I do.

Me: (Daydreaming.)

J.J.: Do you want a hint?

Me: I'm sorry, did you ask me something?

J.J.: Here's a hint: pu pu pu. (In true lawyer fashion, J.J. never asks a question he doesn't know the answer to.)

Me: Pepsi?

J.J.: No. Pu pu pu. E e e.

Me: Pep talk?

J.J.: No.

Me: The best hint you could give me is to repeat the question.

J.J.: What is a flat meat?

Me: Oh. Pepperoni.

J.J.: Yes. What are some more flat meats?

Me: Besides pepperoni, Proscuto. Salami.

J.J.: What's salami?

Me: It's like pepperoni, only instead of being red, it's pink.

J.J.: (Giggling.) Is it only for girls?

Me: No, boys can eat salami. Do you think hamburger is a flat meat?

J.J.: Hamburger is a half flat meat.

Me: Okay. (Trying to think of the word "Braunschweiger.")

J.J.: (Losing interest)

End of conversation.

If you feel like your life has become too digital, I hope you enjoyed this window into what real conversations are all about. I can't believe I couldn't remember "Braunschweiger." Why didn't I just say liverwurst?

Saturday, February 05, 2011

"Like" That's All I Have to Say

Ahh...a comment.

It used to be something you said under your breath. If it was too bombastic for the person standing next to you, what were they going to do, tattle tell on you?

Now the comment is for all to see. I'm a shy commenter. Even when it comes to under-the-breath comments. I like people to think I'm a sweet person, not the smart aleck that I truly am. So unless you know me well, or have beer, you'll never hear me comment on much of anything.

Add the in-writing component to the equation and I'm paralyzed. Rather than spend an hour figuring out what to say, I just hit "like."

I mean, like everybody, I sometimes go overboard and say too much. But in general, I "like."

I wish I could "like" emails.

Often, I'll read an email and think, "I like the person who sent this email. I like this email. However, I have nothing to say. I wish I could just hit like. Or write, "Grin.""

I dislike emoticons (why do they look like Pacman?) but wouldn't object to writing out emotions. "Sly smile." "Wink." "Glaring at you. Just kidding. Sly smile."

While I'm reluctant to comment unless it's a complete no-brainer "Congrats!" "Good Luck" "What is wrong with you?" (not the last one) or I actually know what I'm talking about (picture books, sometimes,) I love other people's comments.

I like knowing what they think. I like sincere comments. I like smart aleck comments. I like questions. It goes without saying that I don't like mean comments, but those misinterpreted as mean are always interesting. I think this situation would straighten itself out if questionable comments were followed by, "I mean that in an immature, inappropriate way, not a mean way."

Then there's YouTube.

I like to click on the videos while I'm working for background music. But often I can't resist watching the footage, and of course reading the comments.

Old country songs are some of my favorites. Likewise, comments on old country songs are usually pretty good.

On Highway Man, for instance, somebody commented, "Why do the other singers have to work normal jobs, like building dams and being a carpenter, and Johnny Cash gets to fly a freaking starship across the sky?"

Someone responded, "Because he's Johnny Frickin' Cash. That's why."

And the prior responder was like, "Ha Ha ur right."

See, we can have nice, civil arguments like this. Even in America.

Have you heard the song "Alone Again (Naturally)"? It's the saddest song ever. The guy gets left at the altar and decides to jump from a tower. Plus, his dad dies. His mom is devastated. And then she dies, too. Finally, the guy loses his faith in God.

So a lady wrote in the comments: "It always brings me such joy to hear this song."

My comment was, "Jeez, lady, I'm glad the worst day of Gilbert O'Sullivan's life brought such a smile to your face."

I didn't write that. She sounded like a nice lady. A true optimist! But I did say it under my breath, to Justin. Just like in the old days!