Facebook and Other Delightful Slices of Life

Don't ask me why I used 'slice of life'. I despise that phrase because it makes life seem like a big delicious cake or pie (chocolate cream pie is yummy). It's clearly not. And it just makes me hungry.

But yeah, welcome back to my blog of opinions, note the last word. I noticed I tend to post a lot of blogs at once. It's because I have a lot of ideas that I write down, save and then add to later, usually complete with Youtube links because Youtube and I are totally bff.

If you know me, try to refrain from talking about it in person, as it makes me feel awkward. Like when I have conversations at dinner about bumper stickers or wall posts on Facebook. I like to keep my online self and off-line self separate, even though we are essentially the same person, with the online self having slightly better photos. I also feel like maybe we should talk about something more substantial...and once i find out what that is, I'll be more than willing to strike up that conversation. Until then, let's talk Facebook.

I've been in a few long-term Facebook-only relationships, first with my male friend from high school. Everyone from high school was sending messages like "OMG HOW CUTE! CONGRATZ!" We ended it. Then it was with my best friend Emily until I ended it to be in a complicated relationship with a guy. That lasted a short time, because I was pressuring him or something. He decided to get off the pot when I wanted to shit. Tell me that's never happened to you. Then another one of my best friends and I ended our Facebook marriage that went to the next level of combining our last names. Not a hyphen but a mixture! It was crazy. (And then I wonder why people think I'm a lesbian, probably because of such silly ideas.) It ended because she wanted to actually be in a real Facebook relationship with her boyfriend. Bastards.

But it's hilarious how much we put into Crackbook. We ended our relationship and I got a message asking me what happened. And we were just Facebook wife and wife. Real relationships, it's a hassle because the inbox gets FLOODED. Crazy.

I feel guilty. On surveys, it's like "How many times a day would you say you check Facebook?" And I can't even put a number on it. I'd say, when I'm home, about every half hour. I really should be doing laundry, reading, socializing but no. I'm at home, on Facebook. Sick.

Anyway, I actually applied to be a student blogger for my school. I'll have to make that blog a LOT less peppered with obscenities, pending I actually get chosen. If they saw this, they probably wouldn't choose me anyway.

So Phelps did it. I stand corrected that he didn't crack under pressure. He actually cried at the last medal ceremony so we know he's human and not some emotionless swimming droid. Which would be interesting because why would someone make a machine that did nothing but swim really fast? A human-looking torpedo? Don't tell the Armed Forces. They may already have this going as a top-secret mission and I could be shot for exposing secrets. (If there are no blogs for three months, notify someone immediately.)

I actually got choked up at one of Phelps' medal ceremonies when they played the Star Spangled Banner. I'm not overly patriotic at all so I'm confused as to what happened. My conservative best friend was very proud of me. Liberals are patriotic, contrary to popular belief. We just keep it inside instead of plastering the flag everywhere there's an empty spot.

But I can tell you this. Aside from maybe Phelps and his 10,000 caloric intake, I can assure you that not one Olympian is chowing down on McDonalds. Stop with the Southern Chicken Sandwich commercials. They're gross. Chicken, pickles on the hamburger bun? Sounds like diarrhea to me. I had the Chicken Biscuit because I was hungry for lunch and they were still serving breakfast. It was a sandwich nightmare.

The soda guns are too fizzy at work. I like to pour my pop and have to do a top-off to make up for the fizz, not sit there and do a fff wait fff wait fff wait. (Fff being the noise a soda gun makes.) It also makes the drink half flat by the time it reaches the table. If I knew how to turn down the CO2 tank without making the basement explode, this paragraph wouldn't exist.

I don't understand netspeak. The only time I use it when I'm at 164 characters on a text message and the max is 160, then I'll change a 'probably' to a 'prolly'. Or when I'm making fun of my sister. I realized that it doesn't save anyone any time at all. Was it really that much more strenuous before to spell 'people' that it is now 'ppl'? Apparently it's easier for the pinky to return to home row now.

I was pissed when I searched for pet peeves (and to see if there are any other equally pissed bloggers). I found this website, which is pretty much College Behavior for Idiots. Not talking in class? Disrespect of other classmates? The only time this would have been acceptable would have been to hand this out to homeschooled kids who may not be overly socialized. How is this only for collegiate professors when I've been hearing this same shit for years? Apparently the rules go out the window for college. (They did for me, but only to disrespectful professors that I pay to talk in front of me and put a decent grade on my transcript, and I'm the scant minority. I'm surprised this wasn't one of my professors writing this.) This goes to anything, fools. Anything when you're around people.

I am currently obsessed with failblog.org. I almost cry-laughed during orientation last week because of it. Therefore I'd advise you to look at it.