August 6, 2010

So a while back, I was talking to coworker of mine about the ads that show up on our respective Facebook pages. And how mine just happened to say things like: “Meet Hot Singles” when I was 29, but when I turned 30, it changed to “Meet Single Moms.”

Her Facebook ads changed from “Lose Weight Now” to “Meet Single Dads” when she changed her relationship status to single.

It was pleasant when my ads turned into “Crown Royal Special Offer!” and “Blackberry. Become a Fan!” a while back.

But the other day, mine said “Meet Single Dads.” Hey Now! I might be single, but I don’t think I’ve quite reached that point of desperation yet. I don’t need your suggestions, Facebook!  If it wasn’t for Bejeweled Blitz, I’d totally be done with you.

I Hate Birthdays on Facebook.

January 26, 2010

When you see someone on their birthday, you say “Happy Birthday!” and that’s the appropriate wishing of a happy birthday. In person, you say it when you walk in a door or when you run into them.

But it’s horrible when you’re with someone and run into the person with a birthday, and you’re beaten to the punch.

Other person: Happy birthday!
You: Yeah, happy birthday!

Your birthday wishes seem just bland, obligatory and meaningless, because the other person beat you and devalued them.

Now, on Facebook, you’re ALWAYS giving devalued birthday wishes.

Because even though you had the independant thought to wish them a happy birthday, someone probably beat you to the punch and you look like you’re just adding “oh yeah, happy birthday, too.”

Unless you are the very first, but you gotta wish them a happy birthday the night before, like right before midnight. But that’s like saying “Hey, I’m going to get this out of the way now, because your birthday is tomorrow, but that’s inconvenient for me.”

Of course, nothing is worse than when people write “Thanks for all the birthday wishes” on their facebook at like 11 am., and you haven’t yet wished them a happy birthday. It makes you look like a jackass who didn’t remember if you reply to THAT with “Happy Birthday!”

What kind of attention whore are you that you’d do that at 11 a.m.? 11 P.M. is perfectly fine, but not before the night is up. Wait until the next day to thank people.

Although, I can’t complain about Facebook birthday’s too much, since Facebook is really the only reason I remember most people’s birthdays to begin with.

The Death of Facebook.

July 28, 2009

Ladies and gentlemen, the Facebook fad is dead.
Saturday was a day that will go down in history as the day when McDonalds in the mid-1980s first used comercials with cheesy raps and breakdancing. Or in the late 80s, when adults began wearing Zubaz pants. Or in the early 90s when Macy’s began selling flannel shirts to capitalize on the grunge era.

The end of an era. The shark has been jumped. What I’m trying to say, is “Welcome to Facebook, Mom!”

My mom, age 59, has asked to add me as a friend on Facebook. After adjusting my profile settings to block her from seeing most the content, I added her. And my aunt is on it, too. It’s now time to find the next thing (More of you should be on Twitter. Although, Twitter is more of a marketing/writer’s tool than a social networking site).

Facebook has it’s got it’s pros: I found out my “kid brother” (really next door neighbor growing up) and his wife were expecting a child. I copied the sonogram she posted and emailed it to my mom. Then saw baby pictures a day after Jackson was born (and sent THEM to my mom). But apparently, she learned their source. And two weeks later, (about 10 days after my “kid brother”‘s mom joined Facebook and added me), my mom decided to get on board.

My brother is also on Facebook now. And now I’m getting “people you may know” from all kinds of blasts from the past.

It’s a scary thing now that my mom has ruined the internet. As I explained that on Facebook with the bold copy that leads this post, my mom replied:

MOM: If you have something on here your mother shouldn’t see, Shame on you!

ME: What if I want to talk about your Christmas gift with [my brother]? Or invite him over over to do crystal meth? Or call Him a shithead? Way to ruin the internet, Mom

MOM: I don’t have to worry about you discussing Christmas gifts until, say, December 23 or 24th. I hope you won’t be doing the other two either.

I suppose I should have censored myself a long time ago. Or slowly uncensored myself to mom earlier so she could deal with it. Or I could just leave Facebook completely.

Adventures in Social Networking

June 17, 2009

Interesting scene from Thursday night.  I’m in Atlanta with JO, and I had to write a press release sometime that evening, so I brought the laptop with me to a bar. We eat, I write the release, put the laptop away and have a Guiness… and then JO discovers that comedian Greg Proops is in the bar. JO tweets this fact, but misspells Proops, and then the people sitting next to us ask him for a picture.

JO takes the picture so they can all get in, and then looks up how to spell Proops on my laptop by pulling up HIS Twitter page with him standing right there.

At this point, the kid who took the picture has already uploaded it to his Twitter and says “hey, wanna see it?” JO re-tweets it, becomes a follower of this dude, and then the picture is forwarded on to Proops’ Twitter.

At which time, I believe he used the Twitter tweet to his phone to get away from other people who are infatuated with D-List celebrities.

This is way more intense (and stupid) than my Twitter habits. I just use it to provide one-liners on the top right of this page, and to tell people in a city that I’m there, and they should offer me places to stay if my flight is cancelled.

Using Twitter to say “look! I met some relatively insignificant person!” is dumb. Unlike, say, using facebook to send my mom pitures of my (brother-like) friend’s wife’s ultrasound.

The 25 Things Note

February 8, 2009

Ok, people keep asking for it, here it is:

1. I don’t “care” when people I don’t know die, but I get misty-eyed at things like walk-ons score on senior day, a web-designer dresses for an NHL game, or Indira Kaljo’s performance Sunday.

2. I’m excited for Valentine’s Day this year. Not because of love, but because I can’t wait to use the phrase “A parliment of Owls” in my recap at Rice next Saturday. It will be grammatically correct usage of a collective noun.

3. People roll their eyes and call me crazy when I rant and rave about college RPIs. But I must know what I’m talking about, because the only time someone’s ever listened to me and helped me schedule, the team finished #9 in the country in RPI (I take no credit for their wins and losses; only their SOS rating).

4. I need to go grocery shopping. Badly. As in, I haven’t been to a grocery store for a cart full of food since I got back from evacuating for Gustav. Seriously. I’ve had plenty of baskets, but no cart.

5. I have a hyper-active imagination. You knew this.

6. I refuse to buy presents for people who aren’t relatives unless I’m trying to make out with that person. Or am extremely guilted into it by someone getting me presents for a few years in a row.

7. I have a friend with the same last initial, same occupation and same birthday of April 4.

8. I don’t sing in the shower. My car is another story.

9. I love the sound that spring style door stopper makes when you step on it.

10. I like my coffee like I like my women: Hot, Strong, and Slightly Bitter.

11. My amp goes to 11.

12. I need closure. I can’t handle having unresolved things that I have to wait for.

13. As most of you know, I used to watch Felicity, and I don’t feel like less of a man for it.

14. I have to sit facing the door. I still expect Dave Sliker and a water gun to come bursting through that door any second now.

15. I think that the Proust Questionnaire would be a much better facebook trend, and will switch to it now:

16. My favorite word is “pimp-slap”

17. My least favorite word is either “no,” “pimple” or “blog”

18. What turns me on creatively is caffeine; Emotionally is someone being wrong; Spiritually is praising the Lord through song.

19. What turns me off creatively is mornings; Emotionally is clinginess; Spiritually is when people who call themselves by the same name I do (Christian) do things that reflect poorly on Christ and Christians

20. I love the sound that spring style door stopper makes when you step on it.

21. I hate the sound of my neighbors arguing when I’m trying to sleep.

22. My favorite curse word begins with an F.

23. Other than my own profession, I’d like to be a guy in an action movie who says “Hey! You’re not supposed to be here!” then gets beaten/killed by the movie’s hero (like Jack Bauer). Or I just want to be Jack Bauer.

24. A profession I wouldn’t want to try is anything involving a cubicle.

25. If Heaven exists, when I arrive at the Pearly Gates, I would like to hear God “Come in, my good and faithful servant.”

A Whopper Sacrifice Responds

February 3, 2009

Update: Link Works Now (Unless you’re a Mac user and don’t have Windows Media Player)

As you may remember, a few weeks back, I participated in the Whopper Sacrifice, a Burger King promotion in which I sacrificed my facebook friendships with 10 people in exchange for a free Whopper.

Today, I was confronted by Marisa, who was one of those 10 former Facebook friends:

A whopper sacrifice responds (video*)

Farewell, My Friends

January 8, 2009

No, not closing down this site. I mean to the 10 people I just sacrificed my Facebook friendships with to score a free Whopper from Burger King. That is some quality marketing right there:

Speaking of Burger King, once, I actually had this conversation with a BK drive thru employee (DTE)

actual conversation between me — leaving work early because I think I might have strep throat — and a drive thru employee:

Me: Yeah, can I get a large chocolate shake…
DTE: your total is 2.29, please pull around
Me: Wait, unless there is one that is bigger than the large.
DTE: Do you want a King Size, then?
Me: Absolutely, just give me the biggest one you have.
DTE: actually, the Super King Size is bigger.
Me: Super King size?
DTE: yeah
Me: So the King isn’t really the King, is he?
DTE: I guess you could say that, sir.
Me: Would that make him a Prince?
DTE: I guess. At least he’s bigger than the medium.
Me: And the medium isn’t the medium either, if you have five sizes.
DTE: The medium is the medium.
Me: How can the medium be the medium if it’s the second biggest of five sizes?
DTE: We have a medium, sir. It’s one of our four sizes of shakes.
Me: Four?
DTE: Yes, sir. Medium, Large, King Size and Super King Size
Me: Do you even know what the word medium means? It means between something smaller and something large.
DTE: Well, if we put the medium between the large and the king size, it would confuse a lot of people.
Me: Yeah, why don’t you just call the medium a small?
DTE: It’s not so small, sir. It’s actually medium-sized.
Me: But it’s the smallest.
DTE: This is true, but the large isn’t the largest.
Me: And the king really isn’t the king.
DTE: Yes, The Super King is one bigger, sir.
Me: Does he go to 11?

Stream of Consciousness

December 18, 2008

No longer “The Ramblings” because that was a stolen idea

Kind of funny that I spend all my time telling our students not to put anything online that could get them in trouble. Then I start this site. I guess the difference is that they have something to lose and I don’t. Also, someone might actually SEE their Facebook. I think I know the 12 people visiting per day by name (Welcome to the club… Eric!)

My current philosophy on Christmas gifts is: I only buy gifts if we’re related, or I am trying to make out with you and think the gift will seal it. And I’ve actually had to cut that down because I am related to too many people now. Every year some dumbass goes and gets me something even though they aren’t related. I should just yell “No I will not make out with you!” and leave them holding the gift. But no. Now I have to buy a gift for a co-worker because he keeps giving me things. He’s a MAN. A beer is a perfectly acceptable acknowledgement of our friendship. A pat on the rear may be substituted if we are on an athletic field and I make a nice play, but there is no need for gift giving.

Why does your apartment complex (or some neighbor) always decide its a good time to mow, weed whack or leaf blow on the one day you have off to sleep in?

As much as I love technology, I can’t help but feel that science and technology have failed us. I’m not talking about the Jetson’s flying car that folds into a briefcase. I’m talking about useful things:

Im okay without the flying car, just get me a copier that works and inpenatrable synthetic teeth enamel
I’m okay without the flying car, just get me a copier that works and inpenatrable synthetic teeth enamel

Like a copier that works (C’mon, how hard is it to coat the insides in teflon so papers don’t jam? And couldn’t it know the average weight of paper, weigh the tray, do some math, and warn you that there isn’t enough to finish the job before you push start and walk away?)
And why do we have pills to get our grandfather’s dicks hard, but we haven’t eliminated dentistry? Why not synthetic enamel that is inpenatrable to acids/sugars/plaque/cavities/stuff between your teeth? Age 12, get the wisdom teeth pulled and have this sprayed on. How hard is that?

Is there any reason on the planet that companies should use Microsoft Outlook? I tried exporting all of my Thunderbird email lists to Outlook. I googled how to do it, and the only results were 9 million results for going from Outlook to Thunderbird; The only entry for going from Thunderbird TO Outlook was a forum post which read: “Why would you want to?”

How hard would it be for the NBA to set up some kind of program to let college kids know they shouldn’t go to the NBA early? Just a “hey, none of the 30 teams has you in their top 60. Stay in school.”

Regular mail is way too time consuming. My first thought when someone asked me to mail them a check was “you don’t have PayPal?”

So my cable company wants money from the last two months. A Fair request. However, they keep calling my cell phone at random times. I do not answer. Or, I answer and hang up on them. Now they have turned off my cable box (but basic cable still works by bypassing the box. Odd. Why would I pay other than my romantic relationship with my DVR?). Now I am WAITING for a call so I can pay my bill and get my DVR back. Naturally, instead of calling twice a day, they call every other day. And when I answer, they hang up on me. I’m not sure if I am pissed, or secretly impressed.

Rebel, Rebel, Yeah:

Breakin' the Rules!

Breakin' the Rules!

The Last Email to The First Girl

November 18, 2008

Everyone told me I needed to get on facebook. “You can look up all the people you haven’t talked to! Like people from college and high school!” The reason I didn’t join facebook is because it’s simply the next generation of computer communication. When I got to college, we all discovered email – which wasn’t all that mainstream in 1996. All the people I went to high school with and still talked to used email. The rest, didn’t use it. Then instant messenger became popular, and it was just all the people who used email. The people I stopped talking to are the people who never use the computer to communicate, period.

I made an effort in college to send emails to people and see who used it to keep in touch. I had plenty of time to do it, working in the computer lab my sophomore year. So I’m sure I sent one to The First Girl.

I met The First Girl my sophomore year of high school. She was gorgeous, smart, funny, way out of my league. To say I had a crush on her would be an understatement. She was The First Girl I was in love with. We had one glorious weekend together that sophomore year, but never a relationship. Of course, I was too stupid to tell her how I feel and ask her out, I kept just waiting for something to just happen.

By the time I graduated, I was getting over her, realizing it wasn’t meant to be. I went to college, sent that email (like many others) and never made any effort to contact her again. I don’t think about her. It’s the past.

My last contact with her came in the summer before my senior year of college. I was with this girl, Jennie, whom I had run into her a few weeks earlier. She too was beautiful and out of my league. Again, too stupid/afraid to actually say the words “will you go out with me?” we hung out a couple times. Way back in high school, Jennie ran in the same circle with The First Girl. We were leaving her place, one summer day when she said “Hold on, I need to stop by the pool and talk to someone.”

As we opened the gate of the pool, she casually threw out there “You know The First, right?”

“The First?” I asked.

“Girl,” she responded. And there was The First Girl, a life guard. The two of them talked. I didn’t realize they were still friends. I just stood there, silently. Jennie said, “Well, I’m going to get some dinner with Kev and then we’re going to a movie.”

“Kev?” The First Girl asked.

Kev Fu” Jennie replied, with that what-are-you-stupid-question tone.

“You still talk to him?” The First Girl responded.

“Uh, he’s right here,” Jennie said, pointing out that I was indeed standing in front of her face. In her defense, my hair was about six inches shorter, I was wearing sunglasses, and someone taught me how to dress myself since she had last seen me.

We exchanged a couple pleasantries, The First Girl told us to have fun, and we left.

That was over nine years ago. I haven’t even been back into that town more than twice in the last three years. My last trip, I was going to Tom’s wedding. And Delta forgot to put my suitcase with the plane with me. So, while my parents are driving a rental car towards the old mall, I’m frantically pulling up the online directory of the mall to find out if the Men’s Wearhouse is still there, and where it is, since I never bought a suit until I left town.

My web search brought up the mall’s staff directory first. And right before I clicked off the page, something caught my eye. Girl is not a common last name. So I figured The First Girl on my screen was probably The First Girl I fell in love with, and was now the PR rep for the mall.

While I never made The First Girl love me back, I definitely made her mom love me, and in the very same mall. The First Girl had an older sister. I actually had a class with Sister of the Girl, and we did not get along. Probably because she knew I was after her younger sister. Shortly after our one glorious weekend, I was walking through the mall and saw The First Girl, walking with Her Mom. I went up to The First Girl, kissed her on the cheek and she looked absolutely horrified I’d do that in front of Her Mom. Her Mom was giving me the evilest look I’ve ever seen. I smiled at her, my face beaming, and I said “And you must be Sister of the Girl. Nice to finally meet you.”

She’s loved me ever since. It’s my only fond memory of that mall.

In the back of the rental car, I bookmarked the webpage, found what I was looking for, and was trying on suits before the store closed.

A few days later, I figured what the hell and sent her an email. I asked if it was her, how she was doing and told her how I stumbled upon her name. She replied about two weeks later, and asked how I was doing, what I was up to, etc. I answered the questions and asked more back. Still haven’t heard back from her. But that’s to be expected. She never was a computer person.

It’s funny. All the time I’ve never used facebook, myspace, or the internet to hunt down old friends… I stumble upon her email by accident. And she probably still thinks I’m a stalker.