I spend a lot of time on Facebook. Like, a lot. I imagine my kids' first sentences will be something like, "Are you going to update your status soon, Empress of the Universe?" Also I will be teaching my kids to address me as Empress of the Universe. And since I not only spend a lot of time on Facebook but also have a degree in public relations, which means I am basically a Facebook expert, I have noticed a trend. The majority of Facebookers I see fall into at least one category, sometimes two. Sometimes three. I fear those people the most. And, lucky you, I have decided to share these categories for your benefit and enjoyment. Which one are you? Are you more than one? Tell me all.
The Liker:
This person may or may not comment, but as soon as your status goes up, you can count on them to click the "like" button to show their approval of your latest update. This person moves like a silent ninja, liking things all over the place, even if what they like makes no sense. Sometimes this person likes other peoples' comments - people they don't even know. The most terrifying power this person wields is the notifications. Oh, the notifications. There is nothing like opening up Facebook, clicking on your notifications, and seeing the same profile picture eighteen times in a row because The Liker has struck once again to express their approval for everything you have written in the last three hours. Well played, Liker. Well played.
The InstaCommenter:
I don't know how this person moves so quickly, but within five seconds of you pressing "post," this person has already commented on your status/picture/link. This truly baffles me. I am not judging how much time The InstaCommenter spends on Facebook, because people in social media houses shouldn't throw virtual stones. But how does this person react so fast? HOW? What's even more impressive/confusing is that this person, much like The Liker, moves swiftly and silently. They may not have had any activity on Facebook for six hours. But the moment you respond to their comment, there they are, ready with an InstaFollowUp. I can only imagine they have some kind of pager attached to their wrist at all times that alerts them to the exciting news that they can once again comment on a Facebook status. Or maybe they're psychic.
The Drama Llama:
My goodness, this person has a rough life. Or so they would lead you to believe. I am not the Facebook police. You can write what you want on your Facebook page. But there are some days where I see a Drama Llama and have to resist the urge to find a way to cut off their Internet access. You will recognize the Drama Llama because while their crisis will seem urgent and/or terrible, further inspection will show you that what they are experiencing is not, in fact, that big of a freakin' deal. The Drama Llama is crafty, and toys with your emotions using lots... of.... ellipses... to build up... ... ... suspense... before doing... a... big reveal IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS. An experienced Drama Llama could make buying new shampoo a nail-biter of an event. It's hard to tell whether the Drama Llama is really this upset about a non-issue, or if they just really like typing sad faces. This is one of the mysteries of life that may never fully be solved.
The Nostalgic Stalker:
Have you ever gotten a notification that someone has liked or commented on a post, clicked to see the post, and been really confused for about thirty seconds before realizing said post is from 2009 and you barely remember writing it? That confusion is brought to you courtesy of the Nostalgic Stalker. Part of the blame has to lie with the silly Facebook newsfeed that shows you posts from two days ago and pretends they are new. But most of the blame lies with the Nostalgic Stalker as they scroll through your profile and acknowledge every post you have made in the last six months. Unlike The Liker and InstaCommenter, subtlety is not this person's strength. Oftentimes they refuse to acknowledge that any other events have passed since you posted whatever they are commenting on, resulting in gems like, "Hope your wedding is full of blessings!" three years after you get married. Have they not been on Facebook for several months? Do they think you might like to be reminded of the day you graduated college? It's hard to say why the Nostalgic Stalker does what they do. But one thing is certain - they will do it to you.
The Killjoy:
Oh, man. This person. This person bums me out just to write about, so you can imagine what running into one of them on Facebook is like. The Killjoy's main goal is to suck the life and fun out of every hilarious or uplifting thing you post. Writing out your favorite Bible verse and posting it as your status? The Killjoy will comment with a fun fact on how that verse is actually severely mistranslated and really does not mean anything close to what you thought. Want to post some lyrics of your favorite inspirational song? The Killjoy will link an article that explains the artist is now on meth and hates kittens. And heaven forbid you post something a little tongue-in-cheek as your status. The Killjoy does not do sarcasm. Any statuses about how you want to sell your baby online will result in lectures on how children are a precious gift, why DFACS does not want you to sell your children, and articles from parenting magazines about loving the moment. Don't be that person. No one likes that person. At all.
And there you go - the Five Types of Facebookers. They are real. They are out there. I have been all of these at one point or another, and - admit it - so have you. It's okay. We're here for you. But seriously, don't link parenting articles to my status. I will not have that nonsense. I will. not. have it.
Showing posts with label Facebook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Facebook. Show all posts
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Thursday, September 27, 2012
The One-Upper
Have you ever been in a conversation where you say something so innocent, so non-confrontational that you are thinking of high-fiving yourself for your awesome conversation skills, only to be brought down moments later by the one person who just had to "go there"?
I have.
And so have you.
We have all come into contact with this person. We have all rolled our eyes, held our tongues, and utilized stress balls as a direct result of this person.
So who is this person?
It's the One-Upper.
Sound familiar? Sure it does. This is the person who, upon hearing that you think it's hot outside, immediately says, "You think THIS is hot?? I used to live inside a volcano. You don't know hot until you've lived inside a volcano."
Oh. Em. Gee. That makes me want to pull my hair out.
Or how about this one: Do you ever complain about something to a friend, only to have him or her say, "That's terrible! That's almost as bad as the time I was attacked by a rabid mutant squirrel and lost all of my limbs." Dude. I am just looking for a little support, here. Sorry about your limbs, though.
Here's the thing: When I say it's hot outside, or rainy, or silly, or rainbow-y, I am not throwing down the one-up gauntlet. Really. It is not a challenge. It is not a judgment. It is not a hat. I like hats. I wish it was a hat. It isn't me accusing you of being a moron because you clearly don't understand your surroundings.
I am just making a freaking observation.
Now, there are times when the One-Upper's attitude can be useful. For instance, if a smarmy butt-face that you know says something like, "I beat all the levels of Mario Kart in two hours" and then smirks at you, it's perfectly acceptable to say, "Oh, really? Took you that long? I did it in ONE HOUR" and then walk away in slo-mo to the rock song of your choosing.
But in general, regular, everyday conversation, no. Just no. And this includes all your basic social media, texting, smoke signals, etc. It's hard to resist, I know. When you see someone on Facebook complain about how hard math class is when you've just had a baby, or run a marathon with one leg, or fought off a manic zebra with only your wits and your trusty jackknife on you while simultaneously reciting the pledge to the flag because you are that dedicated to being an American AND you save a Girl Scout Troop from certain zebra death, it is hard not to write something, anything, to talk about your day and subsequent awesomeness.
That's why you have your own Facebook/MySpace/Xanga/Word Document. Highlight your glories there. Don't go deflate some college kid who has no idea what life is really about.
You don't want to be the One-Upper, anyway. In person it's annoying, but over texting or Facebook you just sound sad. And then people shake their heads and say things like, "Poor Susie. Still obsessed with her volcano. We'll pray for her. Bless her heart."
Listen to Kristen. She knowsmore than you things.
I have.
And so have you.
We have all come into contact with this person. We have all rolled our eyes, held our tongues, and utilized stress balls as a direct result of this person.
So who is this person?
It's the One-Upper.
Sound familiar? Sure it does. This is the person who, upon hearing that you think it's hot outside, immediately says, "You think THIS is hot?? I used to live inside a volcano. You don't know hot until you've lived inside a volcano."
Oh. Em. Gee. That makes me want to pull my hair out.
Or how about this one: Do you ever complain about something to a friend, only to have him or her say, "That's terrible! That's almost as bad as the time I was attacked by a rabid mutant squirrel and lost all of my limbs." Dude. I am just looking for a little support, here. Sorry about your limbs, though.
Here's the thing: When I say it's hot outside, or rainy, or silly, or rainbow-y, I am not throwing down the one-up gauntlet. Really. It is not a challenge. It is not a judgment. It is not a hat. I like hats. I wish it was a hat. It isn't me accusing you of being a moron because you clearly don't understand your surroundings.
I am just making a freaking observation.
Now, there are times when the One-Upper's attitude can be useful. For instance, if a smarmy butt-face that you know says something like, "I beat all the levels of Mario Kart in two hours" and then smirks at you, it's perfectly acceptable to say, "Oh, really? Took you that long? I did it in ONE HOUR" and then walk away in slo-mo to the rock song of your choosing.
But in general, regular, everyday conversation, no. Just no. And this includes all your basic social media, texting, smoke signals, etc. It's hard to resist, I know. When you see someone on Facebook complain about how hard math class is when you've just had a baby, or run a marathon with one leg, or fought off a manic zebra with only your wits and your trusty jackknife on you while simultaneously reciting the pledge to the flag because you are that dedicated to being an American AND you save a Girl Scout Troop from certain zebra death, it is hard not to write something, anything, to talk about your day and subsequent awesomeness.
That's why you have your own Facebook/MySpace/Xanga/Word Document. Highlight your glories there. Don't go deflate some college kid who has no idea what life is really about.
You don't want to be the One-Upper, anyway. In person it's annoying, but over texting or Facebook you just sound sad. And then people shake their heads and say things like, "Poor Susie. Still obsessed with her volcano. We'll pray for her. Bless her heart."
Listen to Kristen. She knows
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Why SafeSearch is always a good idea
The other day I was searching for something on the Google. I got as far as "How to get" and these were the results that popped up, based on what people search for the most:
Result # 1: How to get married in Skyrim. For those of you lucky enough not to know, Skyrim is a video game that I am way too familiar with, courtesy of my husband. I have lots of questions about this. Why would you want to get married in Skyrim? Do you get bonus points? Is there an extra level where you have to balance your checkbook together and figure out how to file joint taxes?
Result #2: How to get Facebook timeline ...really? Barring the fact that Facebook timeline is the 21st century's version of being crushed to death slowly with lots of heavy rocks, Facebook asks to you to change to timeline every single time you log in. Every. Single. Time. Just log on and start clicking random buttons; you'll get there eventually.
Result #3: How to get rid of hickeys. My mom reads this and my Mamaw just got an iPad, so all I am going to say about this is that Googling it will probably get you some weird results, especially in the images section. And shame on you, Google - little kids could have access to this. Although hopefully not without their parents, but you've still created thousands of awkward conversations across the country.
And, yes, for those of you wondering, that is Bumblebee the Transformer on my browser background. I'm just that awesome.
Result #2: How to get Facebook timeline ...really? Barring the fact that Facebook timeline is the 21st century's version of being crushed to death slowly with lots of heavy rocks, Facebook asks to you to change to timeline every single time you log in. Every. Single. Time. Just log on and start clicking random buttons; you'll get there eventually.
Result #3: How to get rid of hickeys. My mom reads this and my Mamaw just got an iPad, so all I am going to say about this is that Googling it will probably get you some weird results, especially in the images section. And shame on you, Google - little kids could have access to this. Although hopefully not without their parents, but you've still created thousands of awkward conversations across the country.
And, yes, for those of you wondering, that is Bumblebee the Transformer on my browser background. I'm just that awesome.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
I don't really "know" what to "think" of "this."
I keep noticing an odd pattern. These guys: "" are everywhere. It makes sense in some situations. But then I was leaving O'Charleys the other day, and I noticed a sign that said, in quotes, "It was a pleasure to serve you."
Maybe this is just me, but when I see the quotation marks, I always associate it with something not being real. Like if you say you're going to the store, but you really mean you're going to the local crack house in an attempt to get funds for groceries, you could say you're going to the "store," and everyone would laugh as your air quotes conveyed your sarcasm. Good times.
So when I see stuff like "It was a pleasure to serve you," I feel like it should actually say "Our boss said we had to tell you that it was a pleasure to serve you." Or at the gas station when the screen says "cold drinks," I immediately think of two guys snickering as they pour gasoline into a cup and stick in in the fridge, just waiting for you to buy it.
Maybe I just don't get it. Maybe I'm like Joey, forever destined to misunderstand the power of quotation marks.
But am I alone? Do any of you fully understand? Help me, Obi-wan Kenobi.
Maybe this is just me, but when I see the quotation marks, I always associate it with something not being real. Like if you say you're going to the store, but you really mean you're going to the local crack house in an attempt to get funds for groceries, you could say you're going to the "store," and everyone would laugh as your air quotes conveyed your sarcasm. Good times.
So when I see stuff like "It was a pleasure to serve you," I feel like it should actually say "Our boss said we had to tell you that it was a pleasure to serve you." Or at the gas station when the screen says "cold drinks," I immediately think of two guys snickering as they pour gasoline into a cup and stick in in the fridge, just waiting for you to buy it.
Maybe I just don't get it. Maybe I'm like Joey, forever destined to misunderstand the power of quotation marks.
But am I alone? Do any of you fully understand? Help me
Thursday, June 30, 2011
The Evil Spinning Rainbow Wheel
I have a Macbook. As many of you probably already know, owning a Mac is a key step in ruling people/feeling superior. So my brother and I both got one a few years ago. He named his Bernie and mine Miss Mary (wait for it... funny, right?)
Miss Mary and I have had some wonderful times. She lets me have iMovie, which I like to play with, she never gets a FB virus, and the little apple on the back is just plain uplifting. I'm also 99% sure Miss Mary is magical - a few weeks before Daniel and I got married, she got sick :( and the hard drive crashed - taking a ton of wedding details with it. I was very sad. I had loved Miss Mary the best way I knew how. In retrospect, letting her battery die constantly along with dropping her onto the concrete several times may have factored into her illness. We may never know.
BUT THEN my dad used some sort of computer voodoo and spoke to Miss Mary, and she heeded his call from the Motherboard in the Sky, and returned to me with all wedding-related things intact. Hooray for my dad and Miss Mary!
However, there is one trait of Miss Mary that she and I have faced off over many times: The spinning rainbow wheel. If you do not own a Mac, here's the skinny - when Miss Mary decides she is tired, or if she misses breakfast, or just generally wants to aggravate me to extreme levels, she employs the cruelest form of torture, which is the spinning rainbow wheel. The wheel means one thing and one thing only: You must wait. Do not ask how long or why, for these questions have no answers. Just wait. And grab a pop-tart because it could be a while.
I think a big part of my issue with the spinning wheel is that I can never figure out for the life of me why it decides to pop up. For instance, earlier today I was checking my email; I click on a FB email and lo and behold, the spinny rainbow comes out to play. It spun and spun and spun and spun and spun and spun. Then it stopped spinning. As far as I can tell, no changes or updates were made to the computer. The rainbow wheel, realizing it hadn't screwed with me for quite some time, just got tired of the lack of attention and popped up for 470385 minutes before disappearing again, lying in wait for the next inconvenient time to attack.
The other reason I don't like the spinning rainbow wheel of doom is because it's a RAINBOW. Rainbows are supposed to equal God's promises and happiness and unicorns and little tiny people dressed in green suits carrying pots of gold around. But Miss Mary uses the rainbow for dark, mean purposes, so not only is my work - okay, FB time - interrupted but I am momentarily excited to see a happy rainbow on my screen. That's not cool. If the rainbow isn't at least going to bring my computer shinier versions of Firefox or software updates or even a picture of a puppy, it should be changed to something unhappy so I know what to expect. Like a math problem, or Snooki, or a fire-breathing dragon that raps the wrong words to the Fresh Prince song. All these things would be annoying as heck and would better indicate that, far from the happy times expected, I will spend the next five minutes yelling at Miss Mary and tapping the keys incessantly.
I hate you, evil spinning rainbow wheel.
Miss Mary and I have had some wonderful times. She lets me have iMovie, which I like to play with, she never gets a FB virus, and the little apple on the back is just plain uplifting. I'm also 99% sure Miss Mary is magical - a few weeks before Daniel and I got married, she got sick :( and the hard drive crashed - taking a ton of wedding details with it. I was very sad. I had loved Miss Mary the best way I knew how. In retrospect, letting her battery die constantly along with dropping her onto the concrete several times may have factored into her illness. We may never know.
BUT THEN my dad used some sort of computer voodoo and spoke to Miss Mary, and she heeded his call from the Motherboard in the Sky, and returned to me with all wedding-related things intact. Hooray for my dad and Miss Mary!
However, there is one trait of Miss Mary that she and I have faced off over many times: The spinning rainbow wheel. If you do not own a Mac, here's the skinny - when Miss Mary decides she is tired, or if she misses breakfast, or just generally wants to aggravate me to extreme levels, she employs the cruelest form of torture, which is the spinning rainbow wheel. The wheel means one thing and one thing only: You must wait. Do not ask how long or why, for these questions have no answers. Just wait. And grab a pop-tart because it could be a while.
I think a big part of my issue with the spinning wheel is that I can never figure out for the life of me why it decides to pop up. For instance, earlier today I was checking my email; I click on a FB email and lo and behold, the spinny rainbow comes out to play. It spun and spun and spun and spun and spun and spun. Then it stopped spinning. As far as I can tell, no changes or updates were made to the computer. The rainbow wheel, realizing it hadn't screwed with me for quite some time, just got tired of the lack of attention and popped up for 470385 minutes before disappearing again, lying in wait for the next inconvenient time to attack.
The other reason I don't like the spinning rainbow wheel of doom is because it's a RAINBOW. Rainbows are supposed to equal God's promises and happiness and unicorns and little tiny people dressed in green suits carrying pots of gold around. But Miss Mary uses the rainbow for dark, mean purposes, so not only is my work - okay, FB time - interrupted but I am momentarily excited to see a happy rainbow on my screen. That's not cool. If the rainbow isn't at least going to bring my computer shinier versions of Firefox or software updates or even a picture of a puppy, it should be changed to something unhappy so I know what to expect. Like a math problem, or Snooki, or a fire-breathing dragon that raps the wrong words to the Fresh Prince song. All these things would be annoying as heck and would better indicate that, far from the happy times expected, I will spend the next five minutes yelling at Miss Mary and tapping the keys incessantly.
I hate you, evil spinning rainbow wheel.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)