Social Networks

April 13, 2009

I'm not 100% sure, but I might have made fun of Mrs. theskinnyonbenny when she joined Facebook. If I did, it was a good natured accusation of trying to hold on to fading youth, just as she did to me when I surrounded my phone with a bright green protective case.

But it turned out that she enjoyed it. She found another couple with some Russian kids who seem to be cool, and she caught up with high school people not important enough for me to have heard of in the 20 years since we first met, and she was able to follow drama amongst common friends posting snide little remarks, vaguely targeted to one another.

All of this made me curious, but I didn't plan to join. I said that if luddite Crystal would join, I would join too and make her my first friend. Crystal does her work on a 10 year old laptop missing at least half of the letter keys by now. (I guess you can still type by hitting the nubs under the buttons.) I didn't think I was sticking my neck out too far.

Join she did, so a week or so later, I joined and sent her my first friend invite.

After that, I let their software scan my address book, and I let those invites go out. There were only about 10 or 15. Since I'm the last person on earth aboard this bandwagon, you know where it went from there. (If we know each other, friend me on Facebook.)

I'm not really sure what to do now. I'm very happy posting everything that I want the world to know (and actually, quite a bit more, truth be told) right here on theskinny. Not that it's hard to find me here, but it's not as easy as finding me on the book. So I won't be posting, "Hey, I just baked a brownie next to a tree in the neighborhood while walking the dog far from home!" You can only find that sort of inside information right here, baby.

(That happened most recently about six weeks ago. It was night time, and it was an emergency. I was about to squat when I saw what looked like a doorbell moving. It turned out to be the tip of a lit cigarette that someone was smoking on their stoop rather than a doorbell light. Had that person not been smoking, he would have thought that his neighborhood was turning into an Indian slum right before his eyes.)

Meanwhile, I signed up for Twitter too. I've been meaning to do that for a while, just to have an outlet for the random thoughts that pop into my head but that are too inappropriate given the setting for me to blurt out loud. (Follow me on Twitter.)

By now, this post is so annoying that I want to punch myself in the face. So I'll stop before it gets worse.