facebooked_mom-1Apparently, there are rules in this life.  Rules we are supposed to adhere to in order to lead a full and fluffy existence.

We’re not supposed to eat the yellow snow, for instance, for fear of contaminating our temple-like bodies with something icky.

Thank you notes are important after you have been gifted, particularly by a family member you see but once a year and who presents you with the worst fucking tat known to man.  Not sure if this is a rule but it sort of is, so go with it.

There are relationship rules, friendship rules, work rules – boundaries, processes, bundles and bundles of scratchy red tape to get caught up in.

Life is peppered with so many ‘oooh don’t’s that it is sometimes possible to forget what living is actually all about: flipping the bird at convention and leaping before you look.

Anyway.  I digress.

This post is about living life via a series of oft-intrusive networking sites and the perils of not following the correct ‘etiquette’.

It’s a mine-field friends and, although you may think you are just ‘staying in touch’ with the people out there, you are not.  You are in danger at any moment of having it all topple down around you.

How do I know?

Because it happened to me.

  • Subtracting

I am told, in no uncertain terms, that over-enthusiastic trimming of the ‘Friends List’ may lead to something terrible.

In other words, hurting the feelings of someone you once worked with ten years ago and haven’t spoken to for at least two by removing them from your newsfeed and essentially, your life, will have that bitch Karma breathing down your neck faster than you can say ‘See ya, LOSER!’.

I hadn’t intended to start a war of words by doing a little online housework but it seems my naturally cruel nature attracted one anyway.

You know what?  Hold the phones here a minute.

Back up.

Really?  So let’s say, I removed said furious email sender from the list on day one.  By day three, the chastisement had begun.

A message entitled ‘Karma’ fluttered into my inbox with a ting.  The gist of it was, and is, that I am a bad person because I have hurt her feelings.

And therefore the ominous threat of something horrific happening to me is just around the corner now, conjured up by a rejected party.

Was this chick sitting on her computer, keeping a watchful eye over her ‘flock’?  Because how else do you know someone has removed you unless you are monitoring the fluctuation of your numbers?  Or did she try to contact me specifically?

There has barely been any contact for years, apart from the odd ‘Oh well done, you have a fully functioning womb, congratulations’ message.

I like the girl but do I really have to justify not wanting to watch her every move on an already over-populated networking thingamybob?

Also, should I now send a courtesy email to everyone I kick out of my psuedo-life before I axe them?

I think the answer I am looking for here is ‘Fuck you’.

But be aware, your movements are being monitored by somebody, somewhere.

Don’t be like me – be careful who you scar on your way to the heady top – once you’ve been called up on your shocking behaviour, life (and indeed Facebooking) is never quite as shiny.

  • Tagging Pictures

You should never do this.  Ever.

If people want to be featured in your excrutiating online album, they will let you know.

(And no, I never follow this rule – I’m tag-happy as they come).

  • Adding

I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve been ‘added’ by somebody I don’t even know.  Always male, always from a far-flung destination.

With only girls for ‘friends’

This is not cool.

Oh, there are plenty more rules out on how to conduct oneself.  Many, many pet peeves and a hundred things people do that bug the living shit out of me.

(Replace themselves with their children in their profile pics, talk about how tired they are every day, etc).

I’m pretty sure the fact that I change my profile picture sixteen times a day could be a bone of contention for someone, I’m not claiming superiority.

I just hope we all realise before it’s too late that this whole thing was meant to bring us together, not keep us apart.

Just because I don’t comment on your baby photos doesn’t mean I don’t care.  Actually, it does mean I don’t care but…

Isn’t it time to get out there?  Have a real conversation, pick up the phone, enjoy some human contact?

Facebook – I wish I knew how to quit you!


4 thoughts on “Facebollocked

  1. BoobarfDaurry

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  2. Pingback: Lightle Et Martin: A Blog « Groupie in Wondyland

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