Thursday, February 5, 2009

Facebook Friends

One of the bloggers I follow recently posted about Facebook. Comparing her paltry 197 friends to her husband's 661, she waxed about the friendship requests she's received and accepted. As I perused my Facebook mates' friend lists, they're rocketing into the 300s (clearly not as popular as Mama Bird's hubby) while I'm lagging just a titch behind. Currently hovering around the 131 mark, I've opted to protect my FB domain.

Every so often I do a little house-cleaning of the friends list. Initially, I thought I had to accept every request, whether or not I knew them. Not only was it the polite thing to do, but more friends mean you're more popular and loved, right?

When I joined FB in the fall of '07, a smattering of college buds were on, but neither high school mates nor family could be found. All that has changed! I've got cousins leapin' on, left and right. I'm seein' an avalanche of high school chums joining (of course, an upcoming 20-year-reunion could have something to do with that). My point is, there's new friends and associates constantly popping up. So why am I not rocking the 300s?

Because I'm a bitch.


Yup. Sorry if I'm unapologetic about this fact, but there it is. I made the decision a few months ago to review my FB friend list and purge the people I didn't really know or trust. And I think it offended a few of those people because I regularly get friend requests from them. Well, sorry.

Yes, it's rude for me to ignore or block requests, but I gotta watch out for my bad self! I think of myself as a generally positive person who doesn't intend to harm others, but I know I've got this ballsy/weaselly personality that can be somewhat sandpaperish. And those who are on my FB friend list know what they're getting when they enter the Facebook world of this pissy kitty.

I really hate, no ABHOR making amends to people. But I end up doing it, a lot, because I have a tendency to speak/type before I think. Sure, with age comes some degree of mental engagement, but for the most part, I'm still an emotional talker/poster. Which is why I guard my Facebook world closely. If I don't know or trust you, you can knock all you want, but my door's locked. And it's purely selfish: so that I don't have to apologize to strangers for some inappropriate or offensive thing I will surely, eventually post. (I do it enough with the people I know.)

Eck, just admitting this feels yucky, like I've punched a baby! There's this part of me who wishes she were nice to everyone, sings with the birds, and frolics with the baby deer.

But that's just not how I roll. I can't even be bothered to fill the damn bird feeder. And the mess they make?!

Monday, February 2, 2009

Raised by wild, Republican dingos


Happy February! To January's passing, let me hear ya' say, "Hell ya!"

Since Punxsutawney Phil did, in fact, spot his damn shadow, how about a little pick-me-up? Let me introduce the newest member of our family: Maudry.


Maudry is a mild-mannered, small, mixed-breed adopted from an area Humane Society two weeks ago. While I think she's fabulous, I'll let the following interview speak for itself . . .

"So Maudry, I hear you were raised by a pack of wild, Republican dingos? Is that true?"












"Is that too uncomfortable? Oh, I'm sure. . . What's that? They forced you to watch Fox News?"















"Oh, how awful! Does that mean Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity are not your home boys?"


















"Easy girl. Let's change the subject. Kitties! Do you love kitties?"



















"For a snack?! Oh, just to lick. Ok, I can live with that. What do you think of other dogs?"






















"I know, it kinda depends on the dog, doesn't it? Well, how about you gimme a smile?!"













"Good Girl! Now, wanna chill out?"

















"Yes, we're done, Honey. No more questions . . ."