I hate Facebook. Seriously. Not kidding – it’s ruining my life. Totally.
OK, I’m exaggerating. Facebook does not have that much power over me. But it has hypnotized several of my friends, family members, and colleagues into bind submission – and I’m out to stop it.
If one more of my Facebook friends tries to get me to eat their imaginary tofu pumpkin truffle muffins with gorgonzola icing, I’m going to literally – not to be confused with virtually – hurl.
If I get one more request to find a make-believe loving home for an adorable pink unicorn with blue velvet spots and a satin bow around its neck, I’m going to start inventing animals of my own for which to crusade – maybe the Patty-guin or the Kimer-saurus? Hmm, I could be onto something.
But, no, no! I won’t get sucked into some Facebook Fairy Land.
If one more of my colleagues asks me to join his or her to fight to wipe out a rivaling family, execution-style, as part of their ongoing Mafia War, I may turn my own cold hand.
Look, as the 1980s fitness guru Susan Powter so eloquently shrieked in her campy infomercial: Stop the insanity!
And it truly is insanity. Because, even though Facebook is a convenient way to stay in touch and share photos with out-of-town friends and family members, it’s gotten way out of hand.
To illustrate, I cite Exhibit A: My girlfriend who lives in Trumbull County but shall remain nameless for her own protection. This pal, let’s call her “Regina,” is a Facebook zombie and is in particular and dire need of a Facebook intervention.
Not only does Regina spend several hours a day posting videos, editing photos, and writing blurbs for / to her page, but she also sets aside extra time to become the fan of about a dozen new Facebook pages every day, too.
Honestly. I think the Facebook Czar reached in and entranced her brain ala the “Stepford Wives.”
Think I’m overreacting? She has a Facebook page that is hosted by her dog.
Then there’s my childhood chum, let’s refer to her as “Marie.”
Marie was spending so many consecutive Facebook hours bedazzling her page with hearts, joining online causes, and chatting with people she hasn’t even thought of in two decades that her husband called their township police department and had an All Points Bulletin put out on her. And when the police sketch artist came to the house for a description from her hubby and children, no one could even remember what she looked like.
True story – check it out at Snopes.com. OK, I may have embellished a tad.
Anyway, the sad fact remains that I’m just as guilty as they. Why?
Because I cannot completely shut my page down. I did it once, for about a week – but then curiosity about whether or not my friends are happy, sad, cold, bored or tired got the better of me and I reinstated the page (which is as simple as logging back on).
Oh, and I’m a total Facebook coward, too, because I’m afraid to ignore a “Friend Request” – even if it’s from someone who is completely mean to me or whom I have never met in my life.
Why, you ask, would someone even want to see the page of a rival or a complete stranger in the first place?
I can’t answer that. I’ve never requested to be “Facebook Friends” with someone whom I’ve never met. And naturally, I try to like everyone, so … I digress.
Ah, and, speaking of liking everyone, Facebook brings up so many sophomoric issues that I feel I’m back in high school any time I log onto my profile.
I mean, is “Suzy” just asking to be my friend so that “Nancy” – who is “Suzy’s” BFF but despises the fact that I even consume oxygen – can use my family photos to make a new dartboard in her basement recreation room?
That’s it. I’m done with Facebook once and for all. Seriously. Today.
After I make sure that no adorable faux farm animals need a fake home – and once I eat the Mincemeat and Guacamole Pie someone whipped up just for me.