Nurse the Hate: Still Hate Facebook

My brother told me he has once again culled his Facebook herd of “friends”.  I am jealous of his initiative in this matter, as I continue to see pictures of ugly kids I don’t know, political emails, and links to things I am not interested in every time I log in.  My brother decided he was going to cut anyone that did not fit the following criterion:  If he saw them walking on the street, would he be excited to grab a beer with them and catch up?  That is a bold move and I applaud him.

My problem was when I started I just approved anyone that asked.  I would get the request, look at the picture, and think “I know that guy!”.  Approved.  Now I can’t seem to thin the list.  I know so many people through playing music that if I just see their name; I might not know who they are.  For example, “Mike Stevens” I may not know off the top of my head.  But if he was listed in my “friend list” as “That fucked up guy in Nashville that had sex with his girlfriend’s Mom on that cruise” I would know EXACTLY who he was.  Now, I am in a place where it would take so much effort to work through the list, it’s like signing up for an auditing job where you don’t get paid.  Who’s got the time?

 I find it odd that some of my “friends” have decided to make Facebook a place for them to campaign enthusiastically on one issue.  I have a friend, who I actually like, that makes a post every fucking day about bicycling.  “I just had a great ride with members of the Gear Gals bike club!”  Look, I don’t give a fuck that you rode your bike with some people I don’t know that belong to a stupid club.  Unless the “Gear Gals” post topless photos, or are involved in some crazy bicycling S&M where they tortured this guy’s testicle sack, I don’t care.  Do I let him know every time I went running?  “Hey everyone, I just ran three miles and almost got bit by a dog!”  Fuck no I don’t do that.  You know why?  Because I know you don’t care…

I have another “friend”, who I also like, that loves to post how cute her kid is everyday.  “Today my son Justin said I’m the best mommy in the world!  I’m so lucky!”  Hey, your kid is five.  He doesn’t know yet that you have addiction problems, blew half the guys on the East Side of Cleveland, and are a manic depressive whack job.  He is supposed to think you are great.  He’s five.  He has no point of reference.   You aren't selling me on that web of lies.

I saw the saddest little post the other day.  Like many of you, I “friended” old High School acquaintances when I first opened the account.  It has become quickly apparent that I have almost no common ground with these people now except that from ages 16-18 we snuck beers together, went to the same math classes, and all thought Def Leppard was a pretty good band.  The 80s were a confusing time.  

The post I saw was “After 16 years I have decided to leave my position at CVS as assistant human resource director.  It is time to continue my journey of self discovery.  I am pleased to announce I will be starting at Lowe’s as their Northwest PA assistant human resource director.”  You almost want to weep…  First off, what the fuck is the difference?  CVS?  Lowe’s?  Gap?  Walgreens?  It’s all the same place with slightly different signage.  Secondly, did you just use the word “journey” to describe moving from one shitty white collar job to another probably shittier white collar job as the low man on the totem pole in HR?  People need to reel themselves in when using the word “journey”.  That should only be used by dudes climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro and masseuses named “Skye”.   I only want to hear that word when I am holding a brandy at The City Club while an old British guy with a weathered face tells me about how his Sherpa fell into an ice cave.  I can also maybe stomach it when I am pretending to care about what the woman that is rubbing my quads is telling me as I listen to her horrible New Age music CD.  “Oh yeah Skye… I see what you mean.  You should definitely go to Sodona to chant.  Hey, could you move up and to the left?” 

The problem is that I can’t get out.  I have a business email, band email, personal email, and now… horribly, a Facebook message box that serves as email.  I am going to have to keep logging in, but please, I beg of you, think before you post.  Ask yourself, “Does everyone think my dog is as cute as I do?”  In my case, I’m sure they do.  If you will excuse me, Monty my basset just did the darndest thing in the back yard and I have a picture to post.