Category Archives: Laughable life

They found me. I don’t know how, but they found me.

Someone, or some mind-reading cyborg terror app, has blown my cover: people keep trying to make me their Facebook friends.

They found me. I don’t know how, but they found me.

Not, no the Libyans, Marty. The Facebook legions. The many proud members of the Wendy Wetzel Should Join Facebook Group.

I confess: I’ve had an account for a while, just sitting there reserving my name for me. But I am not, repeat NOT, going to start using the thing until my demands are met.

Yes, I have demands. I will not give you something awesome (me) for nothing. You cannot shame me into your gang. (You must bribe me.)

WENDY WETZEL’S FACEBOOK DEMANDS:

  1. At least 100 people must join the Wendy Wetzel Should Join Facebook Group. (This is a reduction from 500, so be thankful you have a shot.) These must be people I actually know, not creepy random stalker people.
  2. This post must receive at least 50 comments telling me you joined WWSJFB and why.
  3. You must convince me that the fact that I never got a Xanga or MySpace page before they went the way of the parachute pant (that is, lame fads of the past) is not all the more reason I should just wait it out for Facebook to go out of style too.
  4. You must convince me that the amount of time I’ve wasted just talking about FB will not be dwarfed by the time I waste on it. Or that it will but it’s totally worth it.
  5. Promise me you’ll never ask me to play Scrabble with you or build a city together or join your mafia or whatever the heck else you nerds do on there. The Internetz are for stalking people from a distance, not pretending we’re holed up in a cabin somewhere during a blizzard.
  6. Y’all get on da Twitter and follow me. You can link your FB status and Twitter. Twitter takes two minutes to set up; Facebook takes two weeks to figure out how to even read. So this is the least you can do for me.
  7. Post on the WWSJFB group or on Twitter photos of yourselves on your knees holding signs begging me to join or engaging in other similarly shameless pleading behavior. (When hashtag #WWSJFB is trending on Twitter, you’ll know you’re making progress.)
  8. Convince me that this will not happen to me! “Why I Left Facebook”
  9. Convince me that Facebook will not again suddenly declare that they own my everything, forever.

And finally, and this is very important:

10. Promise me you will never, ever, under any circumstances, use “Facebook” as a verb, as in “I facebooked you.” No! You “facebook” me, I’m gonna “outhouse” our “friend”ship. Capiche?

Your move, Facebookers. You want me? Show me what you’ve got.

Darn That African Spanish Accent

A couple five- and six-year-old girls were visiting some of our neighbors the other day.  We were getting dinner ready, but our neighbors were outside, so the Joygirl was out playing with the other girls (well, following them around, anyway). Joygirl did keep coming back in to see us, then going out again. One round the girls came up and had this conversation with Aaron:

Girl: She’s black.

Aaron: Yep, she has black skin.

Girl: Why?

Aaron: Why is she black? [Let’s assume this question is mostly about why she’s black and we’re not.] Well, we actually adopted her. She’s from another country, in Africa….

A little bit later they were back at the door.

Girl 1: I can’t understand her when she talks.

Aaron: Yeah…She’s only two. She’s still working on learning to talk.

Girl 2: It’s because she’s Spanish!

Aaron: Spanish? Oh, no, she’s not speaking Spanish. She’s just not that good at talking yet.

Girl 1: It’s because she’s from another country!

Aaron: No, not really…

Darn that pesky African Spanish accent!