I ran into an old friend the other day at Starbucks. (Where else?)  I hadn’t seen him in forever and was dying to know if he had stuck it out with his latest girlfriend or went back to serial dating. (Three words: Majuh. Commitment. Phobe.) But before I could get my scoop, he started asking about my very recent trip to Hawaii and my daughters’s first day of school.

What?

Um, is this guy stalking me or something?  I mean, I was rockin’ my new do’… but although it was short and sassy, it wasn’t exactly stalker-worthy!

I was perplexed. But then, as he began to pellet me with questions about resorts, booze cruises and luaus, it came to me.

He was a Facebook voyeur! A social network Peeping Tom!

Now, let me just say for the record, that some of my favorite people are FB voyeurs.  They spend just as much time perusing status updates and profiles as you and I, they just don’t feel the need to participate. Like me, you might even forget they are even ON Facebook until they reveal themselves the next time you see them by asking you about the caffeine or your Bachelorette addiction.  That’s when you know you’ve got a Lookey Loo on you hands.

Fascinated by these Facebook rebels, I rang up some of my friends who fall in this category.  I just had to know why they won’t even list what year they were born or give some of my sassy statuses a thumbs up. (It’s just ONE click! Help a sista out here!)  I needed to see why all their wall posts go unanswered and all their fan page invitations are declined. Um, especially THIS ONE!

So now I’m ready to break it down for you.  To tell you why your second cousin never poked you back or why you’ll never see pictures of their kids until you finally suck it up and attend that family reunion next summer.

THE MULTI- TASKER

Always on the run, the multi-tasker prefers to get their “booking” done via iPhone or Blackberry.  She really does want to know what you are making for dinner or how your son’s soccer practice went, but actually commenting on it is a whole other story.  Basically this is the social network version of It’s not you, it’s me”.

THE HIGH-BROWER

The High-Brower finally buckled under all the peer pressure and joined FB but wants you to know she’s still too good for it.  That’s why you’ll never hear about her tropical vacation or find out whether she’s planning on watching the new Melrose Place.  And the fact that she’s traded Hemingway for Yoville?   She’s planning on keeping it her dirty little secret.

THE “PRIVACY PLEASE” FRIEND

Unlike attention whores like myself, she’s content with keeping her networks, political views and Farmville scores a secret. But I find myself  wondering which five cities she’s lived in and what her Saved By The Bell quiz results were. (Lisa Turtle, in case you were wondering…) And btw, this is also the same person who has 25 friends because she only wants to “friend” people she’s actually “friends” with. Um, I didn’t even know that was an option. What a concept!

THE FUGITIVE

Why are you on Facebook if you are trying to HIDE? I can understand an occasional block of a crazy ex-boyfriend or that over-zealous PTA mom, but to lurk around in cyberspace while no one can see you is creepy.  And was high school so bad you won’t even put your graduating year?  Come on! Even I got over my huge hair and penchant for spandex pants. Show yourself already!

Xoxo, Liz

©2012 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

We wrote about this topic just a couple of months ago…but already, so many new electronic devices have come into our lives. And we’ve fallen so hard for these objects! The way they blend a smoothie “stirs” something deep within and the speed in which they access the Internet makes us dizzy …with lust!  Or even the way they so effortlessly make the most perfect cup of coffee really gets the heart racin’ in more ways than one *wink* *wink*.

And although our affections are all in fun, there’s a term for people that, um, really want to be much more than friends with things like Big Ben (get your mind out of the gutter-we’re talking about the famous clock!) or the world’s largest catsup bottle. They suffer from a condition called objectum sexuality. So no need to worry–unless someday you find one of us dry humping the Eiffel Tower.

In the meantime, we’re dying for you to meet our new battery-powered boyfriends, And even though we love them, the only action they’re getting is some fast-fingered texting or a really hard cucumber to chop up.

LIZ’S ELECTRONIC ECSTASY

Hp Mini Notebook aka Webbie

Liz spends most of her day in the car. And as you can imagine, that makes it hard for a girl to keep up with her Internet addiction.  Her Facebook wall posts would go *gasp* hours before being addressed and she would completely miss Twitter’s #Follow Friday.  And the fact that Lisa and Crystal (our fabulous and uber-talented publicist) email each other every five minutes wasn’t helping. (Their banter! So witty! She was jealous!) And after a particularly busy day of postings, poking and reply alls, Liz determined her brokedown Palm Centro just wasn’t cutting it anymore.

That’s when she found Webbie.   And even though she normally preferred larger electronics, she found his small size and wireless aircard appealing. He was so cute!  And whenever she was out with him in public, people would always stop to ask about him.  Soon Liz found herself tweeting with abandon and bantering with Lisa and Crystal like she didn’t have a care in the world!  Webbie even traveled with her to Cabo, although he strongly disapproved of her dalliance with Don Julio. Apparently, he thought her dizziness and dry heaving in the mornings cut into his time with her.  That Webbie has quite a jealous streak!

Which is why Liz found it odd that Palm Centro starting taking a turn for the worse when Webbie strolled into town.  Never the workhorse, Palm Centro had always been able to do at least the basics.  Now all of sudden he struggled to send a text and wanted to hot-sync in inappropriate places.  Then, one morning, he hot-synced himself to death, literally. RIP Palm Centro.

And was that a smile we saw on Webbie’s screen?  Little did he know, the next phone in Liz’s life would possibly render him obsolete.  And his name was…

Barry Blackberry

Liz had a bad attitude about Barry at first.  She didn’t know if he’d be able to meet all her needs.  She needed a partner that could keep up with her (She just turned 35!  She’s in her prime!) and wasn’t sure he was up for the task.

But she soon discovered that Barry was everything she wanted in a man phone and more.  He was always there to let her know the very second an email came in.  And Facebook?  Barry Blackberry didn’t want her to miss out on anything, even if it was that person who keeps inviting her to play Farmville (WTH is that, anyway?) or that crazy guy from high school that won’t stop harassing his ex-wife in his status updates.

And Webbie?  Well, let’s just say that he’s been crunching more fantasy football stats than keeping up with his social networking these days.  Liz, always looking to trade up when it comes to her electronics, kicked him to the curb in favor of Barry.  Webbie started feeling heavy and bloated and she was getting everything she needed from B. (Her private nickname for him.)

But don’t worry about Webbie!  Liz’s husband Mike has been keeping that little guy company.  He’s even renamed him “Webina”.   And although that confuses him a bit, he’s just happy to have someone’s fingers keeping his keyboard warm every night.

LISA’S KITCHEN CRUSHES

Keurig Single Cup Coffee Brewing System aka Kirby

It’s no secret that Lisa is a major caffeine junkie. If she doesn’t get that jolt of energy within minutes of waking up, she can make a crackwhore look tame.  Just talk to anyone who’s made the mistake of asking her difficult questions like, “How are you?” before she’s had her java. (Like that poor UPS guy who unfortunately crossed her pre-caffeinated path–he never did deliver another package!)

For years, she’s had a Starbucks addiction. Each morning, she’d order her Venti bold with sugar-free vanilla. The baristas knew her by name and her order by heart. And even when the economy went down the toilet, she vowed she’d cut “everything and anything” other than her daily grind. Well, until she met Kirby.

It was love at first cup. And within minutes of taking in his compact, yet strong exterior and watching as he filled her coffee cup with so little effort it felt like magic, Lisa was under his spell. Her new boyfriend, Kirby, just made everything so easy. Her heart skipped a beat as she simply put a “K” cup inside, pressed a button and *voila* coffee!  Gone were the days of manual labor like cleaning filters and grinding beans. And it was then she declared, “once you go single cup you never go back!”

And even though she’s been cheating on Starbucks for weeks, she doesn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. Especially since he wasn’t there for her when she traveled route 66! (As if!) She’s not saying she’ll never go back to him, but she’s no longer relying on him to solve her (caffeine) problems. That’s fo show!

But Lisa is not quite sure how to break the news to Kirby that there’s a new gadget in town…

The Magic Bullet, aka, The Bullet

Recently, Lisa saw something on TV that made her stop dead in her tracks on the treadmill. His name was The Magic Bullet and no, he’s not that kind of device ladies. But he’ll still turn you on with his many bells and whistles and his incredible (blending) technique.

Lisa bought him and brought him home that very day. She was so excited as she unpacked him and sized up his, er, parts. She was high with anticipation as she slowly filled him with ice,  fruit, milk and protein powder and watched her beloved bullet blend away. Twenty seconds later, she was drinking a delicious smoothie. And as soon as Lisa finished it, she was ready to go again!

She blended with abandon. Strawberry banana! Blueberry! Peanut butter! She grabbed his recipe book firmly and started planning all the beautiful things they’d make together. Guacamole! Salsa! Spaghetti sauce! The sky was going to be the limit with Lisa and The Bullet.

Or at least that’s what she thought until…he COULDN’T GET IT UP!

It happened when she tried to make salsa and The Bullet’s blade just wouldn’t chop. She tried again, because maybe he just needed a little help…She pushed down on his lid and prayed he’d be able to make the onions look like they did in the picture. But unfortunately, the salsa just came out looking like soup with huge pieces of onion in it. Lisa was crushed that her boyfriend couldn’t perform. She wondered if this is what Jillian felt like in the fantasy suite with Ed?

Lisa hasn’t tried to make salsa since and has decided to stick to smoothies only. She doesn’t want to upset The Bullet and she definitely doesn’t want to find out that he won’t be able to get his blade moving, yet again.

xoxo, Liz & Lisa

©2012 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

LISA SAYS: HIT IGNORE! I come from the dating school of thought that once you’re done, you’re done. If I eat bad sushi at a restaurant, I aint goin’ back for more. If I get smashed on Whiskey Sours, dance on the bar at Coyote Ugly and make out with some one-eyed Jack-HYPOTHETICALLY OF COURSE ;) –It’s pretty damn safe to assume I’m not going to drink Whiskey Sours–EVER AGAIN!

So, why on Earth, after ending my relationship with you, would I even be remotely interested in being your Mafia Wars partner? Or give me a good reason why I need to see that you became a fan of  In N Out?

I’m sorry, but there’s a reason we broke up. And last time I checked, our relationship didn’t exactly end with a high five.  So forgive me if I’m not super amped to join you in the cyberworld version of shooting the shit over a no-foam latte.

But to every rule, there are always exceptions…

And I think IF we’re going to be Facebook friends, there should be a statute of limitations that expires first.

Like how ’bout a decade?

Did we share a sloppy smooch behind the monkey bars? Sure, I’ll accept you!

Were you my junior high prom date who said I looked pretty in my blue taffeta? Okay!  I’m anxious to see what you look like without acne anyway!

Did I date you in high school and drink Strawberry Boons in the back of your pick up truck?  Alright! Because I’m curious to see what you look like without that mullet!

For the record, I am Facebook friends with an ex…or two…

Because our only conflict was arguing over whether or not we should show PDA in the cafeteria. So, I’ll support your cause to get the thumbs down sign added to Facebook; And I’ll give you a thumbs up when your status report says you’re remodeling your kitchen; I’ll even comment on the photo of your adorable kids in the school play! Because the worst thing you ever did to me was ignore me when your buddies walked up to your locker.

But if we broke up in the last few years, I think it’s better to just forgive and forget. Because although our relationship may have seemed like high school at times– it did end over something more complicated than you writing a different girl’s name on your Trapper Keeper. Or me wearing another football player’s letterman jacket.

So, look me up in ten years and if there’s still a thing called Facebook by then, I definitely won’t hit ignore!

LIZ SAYS: HIT ACCEPT! Come on, you know you’re curious what’s he’s been up to and if he’s traded up or down.  And the fact of the matter is that if I ignored every guy that I’ve swapped spit with, I’d have a lot less friends.  You see, I was quite the kissing bandit back in the day, especially after a few shots of Brass Monkey up at the Water Tower.   And I think it’s just plain mean to ignore someone just because they cut my lip with their braces and used their tongue as a WMD.

Like Lisa, I’m dying to see if you had a late growth spurt and finally ditched that Nissan Sentra and your love for Steve B.  And it’s so much less awkward than waiting for our um, *cough* twenty year reunion, where you’re sure to get hammered and grab my ass during the group photo.

But I won’t turn away the more recent exes either. Like childbirth, I’ve conveniently forgotten how painful our relationship was. And by the time I see your friend request, I’ve even convinced myself that you have enough redeeming qualities to enter my Facebook sanctuary.  And maybe, just maybe, I’m dying to know if you married that chick you dumped me for or if you ever got your snaggle tooth fixed.

So, I play nice on Facebook.

Dating for four months and you decided not to show up to my college graduation party?  No problem!  I was planning on drinking so much I blacked out that night anyway.  Oh look, we’re both Susan Boyle fans!  Hurray!

Had anger management issues and tried to strangle my cat?  Merlin and I are so over it!  Oh, and thanks for letting me know you just became a fan of the middle finger and beer, just in case I was questioning my decision to kick you to the curb!

Asked out my best friend the week after we broke up?  It’s cool!  I feel better after I saw the picture of you frenching your bulldog and the fact that you listed “hooking up with hot chicks” under interests.

So unless you’ve heard through the grapevine that your ex is a major shareholder in Starbucks and/or is dating a supermodel, I say just do it!  Trust me, It will only make you feel better about the one you’re with.

xoxo Liz and Lisa

©2012 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

First, we’re so happy that Liz’s brother, Brian, is doing a little better.  I’d like to give a  big shout out to Facebook for helping Liz and her family pull through.  As we saw in her hilarious posts, Facebooking in the ICU was essential to Liz’s sanity! I even dubbed her the Queen of Facebookwhoreland because of course I support Facebooking anytime, anywhere!– I Facebook on the toilet for crying out loud!

So, I’ve now been on this fabulous social networking site for just about four months. And I pretty much went from being a Facebook virgin to a total whore overnight.  (It’s funny how easily the slutty side came out- or maybe it’s not?)

I laugh now as I think back to the beginning; when I thought this whole Facebook thing was going to be solely about reconnecting with childhood friends and keeping up with “real-life” friends’ pregnancies, babies, etc… I remember making ridonculous claims like “I wouldn’t accept any co-workers” (sorry to say it out loud y’all but you know you considered it too) or I wouldn’t send ANY friend requests. Instead, I’d wait for “them to come to me”. Or Liz will recall when I professed that I wouldn’t accept anyone I couldn’t remember. Ha! Those were the days…days of such sweet naivete. Before I unleashed the Facebook ho bag inside!

And now, I’m a slut.  Friend slut, that is. I used to spend a painstaking amount of time crafting my “pitch” to get you to accept me.  Now, more times than not, I don’t even include a message. I just send blindly. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. But I’m banking on the fact that maybe you’re a whore too. (Or sleep around just a little).

But please let me clarify. I do like you. Maybe only because you’re on Facebook, but still, I like you (isn’t it good for friends to have things in common?) And I do want to be your “friend”, really I do. But because friends shouldn’t lie to friends, I’ll be honest and tell you that I do sort of think of you as a conquest… another notch on my Facebook belt, if you will.

I’m on my way to 500 friends (I’m proud to say this includes some recently recruited moms, including my own! Hi mom!) and some of you might consider that a big number, but not me. Not when there are people with thousands of friends. Oh how I envy them!

Recently, someone suggested that I start a group for Facebook whores. And being the whore that I am, I formed Facebook Whores United! six and a half minutes later. But silly me didn’t think to check if someone else had already claimed that name (only about two dozen others). So, then I changed it to  Facebook whores on Fire… but  after saying it out loud three times, it sounded a bit risque- even for me. And as I was looking for another name I discovered that some of the groups are literally

Whores. On. Facebook.

Oh… even I hadn’t considered that. But that’s ok- no judgement here. There’s room for all kinds o’ slutty in these parts.  (Warning: shameless solicitation coming) But if you want to join our group, I’ll  make it easy for ya. Just click here: Facebook Whores & Proud of It!

So in celebration of my four-month anniversary, let me get on my soapbox (so hard for me!) and rant about what I consider to be some Facebook Faux Pas. You might wonder why I, who’s probably committing several just by writing this post, would be pointing out others’ faux pas? All I can tell you is even a floozy has to draw the line somewhere. Consider this my line in the Facebook sand.

1. TOP FRIENDS –WTF is this and how do you think it makes me feel when I’m not one of the “highlighted” people? Hey, you’re my friend, but you’re simply not as important as everyone else. I may be a friend whore, but at least I’m not going to rank you!

2. QUIZ NO-NO’S Why? What on Earth compels you to take a quiz and answer questions about whether or not you think I’m the type of person to contract an STD? Or am into porn? You do realize I get these notifications, right? Ewww… is that why you’re doing it?

3. STATUS REPORT ABUSE I think a status report is a privilege, not a right. So why must you abuse it? I’ve already mentioned how nauseating it is for me when you write inappropriate things on my wall. But now you’re taking it to the status report where everyone has to suffer?   Just yesterday, you updated your status that you didn’t understand why you’re husband wasn’t signing his divorce papers? Really? You’re really going to bitch about that on Facebook?

4. STATUS BREAK UPS My real-life friend ’s Facebook friend recently announced his breakup in his status report–just to get a rise out of his ex. Another of my “friends” constantly posts status reports about breaking up, getting back together, breaking up. People, I beg you, stop abusing Facebook in this way….the status reports and switching between single & in a relationship aren’t supposed to be used to retaliate against a significant other…because then we are all caught in the middle! Please don’t fight in front of your Facebook friends! (Also please see #3- status abuse)

5.  SHAMELESS SOLICITATION STATUS You constantly use your status to plug your blog or your book or your this or your that….oh wait, that’s us! Oops…  On that note, Liz and I would like to use this opportunity to thank all of you who are following our blog on Facebook… but if you’re not, let me make it easy for ya. Just click here. Wink. Wink.  Networkedblogs Chick Lit Is Not Dead

xoxo

©2012 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

So I’ve got a confession.  I’m bitter with Twitter.  It’s like Facebook on Acid.

I signed up a month ago and have yet to figure it out. Isn’t it just a bunch of never-ending status updates?  And yes, I know that status updates are best part of Facebook.  But I feel like Twitter is cheating-like they’ve eaten all the yummy white stuff out of my Oreos.

For those of you unfamiliar with Twitter, it works something like this:  I follow people and they follow me.  Get it?  And by follow I mean you are able to read my wannabe Facebook status updates.

So I signed up and found a few people to follow through the email finder. I was on my way!  Wait, why aren’t they following me?  Of course!  There has to be some form of social rejection or Twitter wouldn’t be fun!   Why don’t you want to follow me?  Did I do something wrong?  Aren’t you dying to read my once-a-week tweet? Oh, you want them multiple times per day? Sorry! I spend all my energy coming up with witty Facebook status updates!  Isn’t that enough?

And forget about finding someone unless you know their Twitter nickname. Seriously, it’s virtually impossible. Twitter, if I knew their damn nickname, I wouldn’t need to search for them!

And I should have known Twitter would be trouble when I logged in for the first time and saw that most of the tweets were about how people didn’t get Twitter. Then, I made a rookie Twitter mistake when I decided to follow Jimmy Fallon.  Why follow Jimmy, you ask?  Well, I’ve been crushing on him since his SNL days and was too scared to friend him on Facebook.  Twitter felt less committal, less stalker-ish.  Except for that whole following thing. Hmmm, I guess I didn’t think that one through.

Anyway, I was saddened to discover that my celeb-crush tweets too much.  Jimmy tweets about everything and everyone.  Really Jimmy? Do we really need to know every detail about your day?  About the berber carpet in your studio? It’s a bit much, even for your biggest fan.  I know you’re excited about Tweeting via Tweetie, but we need some boundaries.

Lisa kind of almost likes Twitter.  She even went so far as to install Twitter Tools on our blog so we could Tweet. Funny thing is, we can’t figure out how to tweet to the blog!  So sorry if you are anxiously waiting to hear Liz and Lisa’s sweet tweets each day.  Not going to happen until hear back from our web designer.  He’s a big tweeter.  Tweets all the time!

But Lisa would not be stopped on her quest to have a productive relationship with Twitter.  That led her to install a Tweet Roll on our site that shows you all of our followers.  You know, those 12 people that are waiting to hear our daily wisdom via Tweets.  Oh, and she wants me to tell you to click on the Tweetroll link to follow us. Please.

Maybe part of the problem is that Twitter makes me feel old. And irrelevent. It makes me want to say things like, “Those young whippersnappers are all on Twitter!” and “Those Twitter young’uns don’t know what’s it’s like to walk a mile to school in the snow!”  I want to say these things even though I’ve never walked a mile to school or lived anywhere where it actually snows.

Am I becoming  like my dear mother, who can’t figure out how to turn on her DVD player when the kids want to watch Kung Fu Panda?  Is this the first step?  I have a blog, for Christs sake!  Doesn’t that make me tech-savvy?

So screw you Twitter because I am relevant!  And soon I will be tweeting like nobody’s business!  And then I will dominate you Twitter!  My Tweets will be heard around the world!

Um, just as soon as someone shows me how to do it.

©2012 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

I guess you could say my “signature cocktail” is a slightly dirty Grey Goose martini with extra olives. Made right, it can make you swoon with delight as you savor the taste of the perfect blend of vodka and olive juice in your mouth. So, at a party over the weekend I thought to myself, “What better to pair with my favorite drink than my favorite conversation topic–Facebook?”

I’ve obviously made no secret that I’m a total Facebook whore who’s now made a hobby out of collecting friends. My latest offense was just yesterday when I was sent a friend request by someone I’d never met and with whom I had no mutual friends. An automatic “ignore” for most, but not for me. Instead of rejecting this prospective friend, I made an inquiry. Had this man from South Africa meant to friend me? It turns out, he hadn’t. He was looking for another person with the same name.

You might be thinking, “Yeah, right, like there’s another Lisa Steinke out there that he meant to friend?  Please. This guy probably just wanted to get in your pants!” (Well at least that’s what my boyfriend would say!) Well, it turns out that there is in fact another Lisa Steinke out there. She lives in the Midwest and I happen to already be friends with her. A few weeks ago, I thought it would be funny to friend someone of the same name. Since it’s always about the status report, I could see it in my mind…Lisa Steinke is now friends with Lisa Steinke.

Well apparently the other Lisa Steinke liked the idea because she swiftly accepted me and even beat me to the punch with her own status report. I was curious now that I knew we shared a name and a sense of humor. Did we have more in common? I went to her page to find out. I discovered that she belonged to a group called, “You Know You’re In The Steinke Family When…”

Oh, how exciting, I thought. I wonder if other Steinke families are like mine.

But after reading the first point, “You can’t leave a family reunion without hugging and kissing everyone twice”, I laughed. It wasn’t an LOL situation like many of you are so fond of. It was more of an outward chuckle–more of a COL, if you will. In MY Steinke family, we’re lucky if we even smile at each other when we accidentally pass on the street! And we certainly would never have a,*cough*, family reunion.

But I really digress…. So, back to the man in South Africa. Even after discovering he wasn’t intending to friend me, I friended him anyway. Afterall, I didn’t have any friends on that continent yet.

And these are the stories I was thinking of as the conversation at the party inevitably turned to Facebook. There was an article in last week’s Time Magazine about how the boomers are all over Facebook. Damn right! Although not a boomer myself, I’m certainly no spring chicken. I’m rounding the corner to 36 so of course I’m going to defend the “older” folk who want to be part of a social network. There’s plenty of room for everyone- even you Mom- I’m waiting!

So, when a 49-year-old woman began to tell me a story about Facebook, my ears perked up. I took a sip of my glorious martini and gave her my undivided attention.  She explained that recently some of her high school classmates had found her. She didn’t understand why, after thirty years, they now wanted to see what she was “up to”… In fact, she wrote each of them a note that said if they were REALLY interested in forming a connection with her, they could call her on the phone. What a novel concept.

I was surprised to hear that 3 out of the 4 classmates did in fact call. I stood there in shock and took a bite out of my olive. I certainly wouldn’t have called had I been one of those classmates and I told this woman as much. I said, “I have to be honest, that although I respect your position, I feel the complete opposite. I enjoy getting notes from former classmates and people I haven’t seen in two decades… but would NEVER want to hear their voices!”  That would just be taking it entirely too far.

I knew I sounded like an a-hole, but it was the truth. The best part of Facebook is the fact that you can keep up with people without having to write more than a sentence or two on their wall. It doesn’t mean I don’t give a sh** about them, it just means I give more of a sh** about my own time.

Throughout the night, I heard myself saying to the other partygoers, “I’ll be sure to tag you in that photo” and “I’m going to friend you tomorrow!” Sentences I would never have put together before I lost my Facebook virginity three months ago. Sentences that are completely part of my vernacular now.

The day after the party as I was uploading the photos to Facebook, I thought about the woman who told me the stories about her high school classmates. Suddenly, I desperately wanted to be her Facebook friend. Not only because she clearly played hard to get, but because I liked her style. She wasn’t going to accept just anyone. If I could get into her exclusive club of friends, I would be cool. So, I sent her a message and told her how nice it was talking with her and getting to know her and I left it at that. (Honestly, I promise you that, a-hole or not, I really did like her and meant what I wrote). A few hours later, that little red notification symbol popped up and, wah lah, a friend request!

The perfect martini coupled with a new Facebook friend.

That, my Facebook and non-Facebook friends, is what I call a successful night.

©2012 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

I was laughing last week as Lisa came out of the closet, proclaiming herself a Facebook whore.  Was it only three months ago that I was begging her to join?

I fondly remember my first few days on Facebook last July.  The randomness of  being able to friend your mom, your boss, the guy who took your virginity all at the same time held a lot of appeal to me.

At first I was a bit shy.  I would troll around in cyberspace for hours, wishing my exes didn’t have such common names so they’d be easier to find.  Why hadn’t I dated less Smiths and Jones?

But once I did find these people, I was happy to see that they were  just as curious to find out what I’d been up to for the past 10-20 years.  They were probably dying to know if I’d finally figured out how to use a tweezers and a straightening iron. (FYI, I did, but only after a intervention by my friend Heather.)

As my friend list grew, I became drunk with the power of finding every ghost of my past.  I began to friend with abandon, adding everyone from from my  high school nemesis to a fellow mom at my kid’s preschool. I was unstoppable!

Until I found Gappy McGapperson.(Not his real name, obviously.)

I met Gappy my junior year of college.  Let me make one thing clear, just in case his name doesn’t do him justice. He was not cute. At all.  He was a  Kurt Cobain wannabe with a huge gap between his front teeth and helmet hair.

But he’d transferred in from another school and immediately started dating a very cute girl. So everyone thought he was hotter than he really was. Then he dogged that cute girl. Real bad.  And the rest is history.  I had to have this gap-toothed asshole for my own.

Like a lot of us, I had a secret fantasy that I would one day tame a “bad boy”.  That although no other woman had been able to break him of his drunken, tardy(I’m so anal about time that I consider this bad boy behavior), dogging ways before me.  I had visions of people toasting about it at our wedding…I would become a legend to insecure woman with daddy issues all around the world!

And this secret fantasy led me to date the biggest jackasses on earth until I finally realized that it’s okay to let yourself love a nice guy.  They make great husbands!

Anyway, I digress.  So long story short, I dated Gappy for a New York minute.  We had big plans to attend my sorority formal the week after spring break.  Formal was the place I was going to show him that I was the girl that would change his life forever! But my dreams were crushed when he proceeded to mack on at least ten other girls in Mexico on Spring Break.  In front of all my friends.  With some of my friends!

Needless to say, that was the end for Gappy and me.  The toast at our wedding just wasn’t in the cards now, even if he did beg for me back and  pledge his undying love.  I was hurt, humiliated and frustrated with myself for letting the fact that he was a “bad boy” make me forget how gross he was.

Fast forward to last month.  I’m cruising Facebook while watching Grey’s Anatomy and decide I have time to peruse the millions of  pages from my college graduating class.  It had been a while since I’d made a great Facebook “find” and I was anxious to discover someone interesting from my past.

And there he was!  Gappy McGapperson.

Okay, so I know what you’re all thinking.  OF COURSE I want him to take a look at my profile and feel regret that he let me slip away.  That if  he had just been patient and pointed me in the direction of Weight Watchers and a good hair stylist, we could’ve really had something.  I wanted him to see my incredibly tall, handsome husband,(Gappy wasn’t too tall and I think we’ve established he had a dog-face.) and beautiful children and say, “Damn! She could’ve been mine!”

So, without having tasted Facebook rejection yet, I confidently hit the “Add Friend” button and wrote a short note. Something like. “OMG, hey Gappy!  It’s Liz!  How the hell are you!”

And then I waited.

And waited.

AND WAITED SOME MORE…

After a couple of weeks, I dropped back in on Gappy to see what was going on and saw that I had been REJECTED!  That’s right.  The friend request was gone, I had been ignored.

Basically, Facebook’s version of the middle finger.

Really Gappy? Really?  You’re not even a wee bit curious what I’ve been up to?  If you would just add me as a friend you would see that the tables are turned. Now I’m too good for you!

And I’m not gonna lie.  The rejection stung.  All of a sudden it was 1995 all over again when my roommates sat me down and detailed Gappy’s extracurricular activities in San Felipe.  And then all the scrambling I had to do the next week to find a formal date that hadn’t publicly humiliated me. (Much harder to do than you might think!)

So I’ve been a bit shy on the Facebook trigger since then.  I’ve found another “bad boy” from the past but I’m just going to have to wait it out for him to friend me and discover I was the best thing that almost happened to him.

*big sigh*

©2012 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.

“Facebook Whore and Proud of It”—that’s the flair that’s proudly posted on my Facebook wall. Hard to believe since just two short months ago, I was still a Facebook hold out that had to be dragged kicking and screaming to my laptop to sign up. It was a blissfully ignorant life, not knowing what a wall was, the significance of a notification and still believing getting poked could only be sexual.

But once my profile was created, it was almost scary how effortlessly I learned the lingo and incorporated Facebook into my daily technological routine. It became the start to my day. I’d  wake up and immediately check it on my Iphone. Before coffee. Before toilet. Before leg swung over bed and foot hit floor. And as I got ready, I’d be tossing around ideas for that day’s hopefully witty status update (there’s a lot of pressure!).

And now, I often wonder, what the hell was I thinking waiting so long? I love an audience and who better than my 200+ friends who have no choice but hear about the fact I’m at the dentist and irritated by the sound of the drill, unless, gulp, they unfriend me?

But it wasn’t until two days ago that I officially crowned myself a Facebook whore and left my crackberry addiction in the dust. TMI alert: I checked my Facebook while on the toilet. Right then and there, I ordered up the Facebook whore flair, agreed with all the people who’d been accusing me of being an addict and threw in the towel. It was time to call a spade a spade.

In honor of the “20 random things about me” note, here are “Lisa’s 20 random Facebook rants”:

1. THE VAGUE STATUS. Why do you post “I’m trembling with fear” if you aren’t going to tell all of us why?

2. THE NON STATUS. Come on people, I know you’ve got something to say!

3. THE BORING STATUS. Jazz it up! If you’re doing dishes, add in that you’re irritated your husband’s not helping or you’d rather be walking on nails.

4. THE ONE TRACK STATUS. You know who you are. The status revolves around one thing and one thing only. (See #3)

5. THE HUG REQUESTER. Never going to accept. Please stop. Even I have limits.

6. THE NON -WALL RESPONDER. I suppose it’s your choice to not reply when I write on your wall. But it feels like a call isn’t being returned or an email isn’t being answered.

7. THE PERPETUAL POSTER. I love your enthusiasm for every link and video clip under the sun, but can we be a little choosier? Oh pretty please.

8. FRIEND REQUEST ANXIETY. Does anyone else spend way too much time  trying to craft the perfect friend pitch? For me, it’s like Match.com all over again. That fear of rejection is intense!

9. WALL ETIQUETTE. Why has discretion gone out the window and indiscretion ended up on the wall?

10. TMI’ER. There’s a time and a place to tell me you’re divorced and what % of custody you got. On my wall? Not so much. (See #9)

11. THE SIDE EMAILER. The main problem I have with this is when you’re married & hitting on me. Let’s put it this way- if you can’t write it on my wall, you shouldn’t be writing it.

12. THE FRIEND WHORE. That’s me. Plain and simple. I have friends I should know, but don’t know why. I have friends I don’t know at all.

13. THE “I DON’T KNOW HOW MANY FRIENDS I HAVE” LIAR. Please. We all know our number.

14. THE AFTER HOURS IM’ER. We haven’t talked since high school and you want to chat me up at 11pm?  A little odd for my taste especially if you fit #11.

15. THE PREMATURE REUNION PLANNER. I don’t know about you, but I’m not excited to admit that my 20 year high school reunion is only two years away. Do we really need to start planning it now?

16. THE NON PROFILE PICTURE POSTER. Unless you really are a shadow with a man’s short hair cut, show us your face!!

17. THE MIA FRIEND. I know everyone can’t be addicted. But I miss you when you aren’t active for days. When your status report has been the same since last Tuesday.

18. THE COMMENT CUL-DE-SAC. You write, then I write back, then you write, then I write back. When do the comments cease?

19. THE LOL’ER. I feel bad attacking you because I’m a happy face’er, but really? Are you really LAUGHING OUT LOUD?

20. THE HUMILIATOR. If you’re going to dig up the old photos, can you TRY to find one where I don’t look like a chubby, mom-jean wearing, uni-brow sporting co-ed? I know I was, but still.

©2012 Chick Lit Is Not Dead. All Rights Reserved.