Tag: Facebook

An Unfinished Game

Politics connected us, provided conversation.
We’d never met, and still, I wept the day
That Richard died.

I became friends with a fascinating man on Facebook through a Liberal group we’d gravitated to before this past election. Richard was smart, funny, and upbeat. I learned that he’d lost his wife a few months before we “friended” each other, and he was fighting through his grief while dealing with a grave illness of his own.

As he prepared for a round of chemo Richard asked for volunteers to play against him in Words With Friends, figuring it would be a great way to distract him from the rigors of chemotherapy.

I volunteered and we played one game after another. He was a novice player, and I beat him soundly every time. We didn’t chat much on the app; although, he promised he’d come out the winner eventually. 

A couple of days ago Richard posted on FB that he was going to take some time away from the computer to concentrate all his energy on feeling better. We all wished him well and figured he’d be back in no time, not knowing how very sick he was. The man never complained.

This morning, though, a post from Richard’s brother let us know that our friend had succumbed to complications from pneumonia. All of those who’d befriended him in our political group are devastated, and I cried all morning for the loss of this friend.

We never met in person. Chances are our real world paths never would have crossed, but I valued his friendship. And I mourn his death. Rest easy friend. 


Peace, people.

Concert Shaming

A Facebook friend started a little guessing game on the social media app and it’s now gone viral. The idea is to list ten concerts and have your friends guess which one you haven’t attended.

I tried to play. I did. But when I realized that all of my groups seemed rather lame compared to those of my friends and acquaintances I deleted the post in progress. I didn’t have the Stones or Paul McCartney or Elton John on my list. No, I had Merle Haggard and Tanya Tucker, Charlie Pride and Brooks and Dunn. Big acts in their day, but I definitely have concert envy after reading some of my friends’ lists.

But just for grins, here are ten concert acts. See if you can guess the one I didn’t see in person. And try not to make fun of my taste in music. 

1. Dixie Chicks

2. Three Dog Night

3. The Fifth Dimension

4. The Cowsills

5. Hootie and the Blowfish

6. Huey Lewis and the News

7. The Captain and Tennille

8. Garth Brooks

9. Boyz 2 Men

10. Foghat 

Pretending for Grownups

Before I began blogging on WordPress occasionally I’d write what I called “Pretending for Grownups” posts on Facebook. My Facebook friends would read them and declare, “Oh! You should write a blog!” Ironically, very few of those who urged me to blog actually read my blog–but I blame (and thank) them for my addiction to blogging.

Today Facebook resurrected one of my “memories” which happened to be an early Pretending for Grownups. I thought I’d share it with you. Ah, the good old days…


You Don’t Get to Decide

In response to one of my Facebook posts about the increasing number of hate crimes committed since Trump’s electoral college win of the election:

I obscured the friend’s name to protect her privacy. I’ve known her since kindergarten and we’ve managed to remain friends even though we are on opposite ends of the political spectrum.

The thing is, I’ve gotten several comments like this, and my first thought is, how dare they?

I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone to get over something they’re feeling intensely. Maybe I’ve thought the words, but I would never presume to tell them that they don’t have the right to grieve or to feel something.

After my mother’s funeral, after everyone except my dad, my brothers and their wives, along with my husband and I had left the church Daddy pulled us all together in a massive hug and told us he loved us. As we all sobbed he reminded us to always tell our spouses that we loved them. We took a private moment to grieve as a family.

Later I received pointed criticism from someone outside my immediate family. Apparently it was inexcusable that we’d kept everyone waiting for a few extra minutes. You know what? Screw them. 

That time was a part of our grieving and part of the way we found the strength to move on. My family doesn’t always speak about its deepest feelings, and to have denied my dad that moment with us would have been a terrible mistake. 

No one gets to decide how I grieve. No one. Not a Facebook friend, not a family member, not a co-worker, not a smug acquaintance. I’ll be ok, but today, I’m still grieving. So back off. Seriously.

Peace? Yes, peace, people.

Question for the Aged 

A friend posted this meme on his Facebook page today and jokingly quipped, “My wife.”  
But being the deep thinker that I am, instead of quickly responding with something like “my vintage Huey Lewis concert tshirt which doubles as my favorite nightgown” I thought I’d turn the question into a blog post.

 

Huey Lewis. I sleep with him, you know.
 
I have a lot of old stuff. Probably the oldest is a bedroom suite that I inherited from my maternal grandmother, my beloved Nannie Grace. It was an antique when she bought it, but she went one step further and antiqued the antique. Sigh. Apparently it was a popular thing to do in the 60’s and 70’s.

   
 I’ve considered having her antiquing process undone and the furniture restored to its original mahogany, but one restorer explained to me that the paint Nannie Grace applied is probably the only thing holding it together at this point.

It’s still a beautiful set, and I’d estimate it at possibly 145 years of age.

There’s also this piece from Nannie Grace

  
And this poor old clock that was my Daddy’s:

  
But my favorite old thing is my side saddle.

  
My maternal grandfather, Grandaddy Carl P., bought this saddle when I was very young. He promised it would be mine someday and here it is. Like Grandaddy, though, I really don’t have anywhere to display it. He kept it in his workshop and Studly always gives me space in the garage for this sentimental piece. It deserves better, so if anyone has a suggestion for how I might incorporate it into my decor I’m more than willing to listen. 

What’s the oldest thing in your house? Why do you have it and what does it mean to you? Inquiring minds want to know.

Peace, people!

That’s Not What I Meant to Say

Forgive me, but my language might get a little graphic here. Saint Helen, don’t read this one, or if you do, read it with your eyes closed.

I engaged in a verbal battle with a Trump supporter on Facebook. I would have ignored him, but he called Hillary the “c” word, and I don’t mean “Clinton.” My intention was to call him “An asshole with typing capabilities” but autocorrect kept changing it to “ashore.” 

The sentence, “apparently you’re an ashore with typing capabilities” isn’t witty repartee. Heck, it doesn’t even make sense. I finally gave up and told him to piss off,  which Autocorrect changed immediately to “pus” off. And that’s just gross.

While I’m speaking of autocorrect, has anyone besides me ever noticed that when you’ve mistyped a word and replacement options are given often they don’t even vaguely resemble the word you had in mind? I once was offered the word “Illinois” when trying to type “loving” in a poem. Granted, I’d gotten the word started with an i instead of an l, but in what context does “His Illinois arms” make sense?

Ok, I feel better now. I’m going to go give that Facebook troll a pizza of my mind. 

  

Trial Separation

“Trial Separation”

Relax, Studly Doright and I aren’t splitting the sheets. Heck, after 40 years of marriage it would be a little ridiculous to call the whole thing off just when life is getting good. Of course, that’s not to say there aren’t days when I have to restrain myself from throwing him out a window. 

  
Studly outweighs me by about a hundred pounds, though, so he’s probably safe. Plus we live in a single story home, but don’t think I haven’t occasionally wondered what a good surprise shove might accomplish. (Note to self: delete this post in case of police inquiry.)

No, I’ve decided for the sake of my sanity to take a break from Facebook. This might not sound like a huge issue for most folks who check in once or twice a day to see what’s going on with their friends, but I have an addiction to this social network, spending as much as two hours a day scrolling through FB statuses on my phone.

I know that’s sad, but in my defense after so many cross country moves Facebook has become my best means of keeping in touch with family and friends. Lately, though, I feel such anger and disappointment that I’m not sure I want to keep in touch with anyone via Facebook. 

Of course my own sense of right and wrong is to blame here. Increasingly I have found it more difficult to ignore the racist comments and the outright lies being peddled as truths. Rather than call someone out as being a lying sack of shit, I’ve chosen to separate from them for a bit. How’s that for diplomacy?

Peace, people!

Unintentional Dating 

Unintentional Dating 

My lonely life revolves around shopping, blogging, and Facebook, but at least I have a life of sorts. On Facebook I’m particularly vulnerable to clicking on tests–“How Smart are You?” “What Does Your Color Preference Indicate about You?” “Are  You a Sociopath? Find out in 10 Easy Steps.”

 

For the record, there’s a unicorn inside me, which explains the gastric distress.
 
Like most facebookers, I take the results of these tests with a grain of salt, meaning if I like the results it was a righteous test; if I don’t, it was a lame questionnaire with no legitimacy. I still maintain that I am not a sociopath. Stupid test.

Most of the time these little activities are straightforward and harmless: Click on the site, answer a few multiple choice questions, receive your results. But one day this week I took a quiz and was automatically transferred to the online dating site, FirstMet.

I didn’t answer a single question and left the page immediately. However, the site was linked to my Facebook profile so now I’ve been receiving dozens of emails from potential suitors. They include

Gary, a 55 year old male in Tallahassee who’d like to rock my world. His hobbies include listening to Rush Limbaugh and going to tractor pulls.

Mark, 58, is retired and enjoys television and Chinese take out.

Walt, 62, likes the Hunger Games and country music. Walt has a comb over (I saw his photo). 

I thought I could ignore these emails and they’d go away, but they keep coming. Either I’m much more desirable than I ever thought, or these men are slightly desperate. Let’s go with option #2.

Studly Doright really doesn’t want me to date. And honestly, unless Harrison Ford, Huey Lewis, or Adam Levine show up in an email I’m not all that interested. 

Finally a Facebook friend showed me how to stop receiving the emails from FirstMet, so maybe my suitors will fade away. Of course now I won’t have any way to know when Harrison tries to contact me. That’s the downside.

Ok, I’m going to go retake that sociopath assessment. Must be more careful this time around. Bwahaha.
Peace, people!

Politics: The Lighter Side

I have to admit this political season in the United States is getting to me. One cannot turn on the TV without encountering a nasty story or stories about this candidate or the other. 

On social media one might scroll through dozens of political memes before encountering even one cute kitten video, and weren’t cute kittens the reason social media was invented? 

I’m guilty of posting the political stuff on my Facebook page. Even though there is absolutely no one on my friends’ list who doubts my political leanings I am compelled to seek out and share that one photo that just might make everyone, even obstructionists like senate majority leader Mitch McConnell, change their minds and see things my way.

  
Can you imagine? The phone rings, 

“Hello?” I say.

“Ms. Noyes, this is senate majority leader Mitch McConnell.”

“No effing way!”

“Yes, it’s me. Surprise!”I can hear the smile and goodwill in his voice.

“Look,” he continues, “I want you to know that SCOTUS meme you posted…it really made me reexamine my position. Now, not only am I going to urge members of my party to visit with the President’s nominee, but I’m going to suggest they give him a down vote so Mr. Obama can nominate a true Liberal to the court.”

“Well, it’s about time you saw the error of your ways. Would you now please ask jackassinpoughkeepsie to stop trolling me online?”

“Sure! Sure! Anything for someone as politically astute as yourself.”

Something occurs to me, “Say Mitch, you know if you go this route with the Supreme Court nominee the National Rifle Association is going to pull its support so quickly that not only will your head spin, but the heads of your children and your children’s children will look like multi-colored tops orbiting the equator.”

“No worries! I’ve stockpiled the um, donations the NRA has made to my campaign for years, so I’m set for life. For several lives, actually.”

“Good to know, Mitch. So I’m pretty busy. I need to get back to scouring the web for cute cats. I hear there’s a great video showing them jumping out of boxes.”

“Okay! Hey, keep up the good work. You really made me see the light.”

“‘Bye Mitch.”

“Goodbye Ms. Noyes.”

My imaginary conversation with Mitch made me do some soul searching. What if, instead of posting serious political memes on my Facebook page I looked for the lighter side, the Pollyanna version of politics. So with that thought I give you the following. Both sides will get skewered:

Truly. Hitler might be surprised at all of the candidates, left and right, who’ve been compared to him.
My point….
  
 
See, I’m being kind-ish.
 
 
Hadn’t seen this one before!
 
 
Mrs. Clinton does field some odd questions.
 
 
bwahaha!
 
  
  
Now, this is clever!
 
 
Sing it!
 
 
Kasich was the only one I had to struggle to find anything even remotely funny about. Kasich, the only moderately sane GOP candidate.

My personal favorite:

 
But, honestly, wouldn’t we all rather see this?

  
https://www.facebook.com/AndMyCat/posts/1224833260861682
 

And as always, Peace, people! 

Undiscovered Treasure

Facebook is a source of much of my blog inspiration. Between cute kitten videos and wine humor, political satire and jokes about aging (un)gracefully the social media site is a veritable treasure trove of ideas.

Take this post for example:

  

Here is one of the sentences I culled from the multitude running through my head:

Gabriella Montagne plucked a pomegranate from a basket on the kitchen counter and hurled it at her loathsome brother Claude, hitting him squarely in his one good eye.

Justification for this being a unique sentence: uncommon names, uncommon fruit, one good eye.

The possibilities are endless. Come, give it a try. Who knows where that sentence might lead? 
Peace and happy writing, people!