Sunday, August 19, 2007

DSC_0121 - Coffee table bookI feel dirty.

I've finally succumbed to the pox that is Facebook. After months, if not years of studiously ignoring it and the calls to join it (I was deterred early on by the invitation only policy, which would have required pointing out to assorted better looking, more confident people that I was a social pariah so could someone kindly invite me). And this is despite admonitions from one friend, following repeated mass email demands to "JOIN FACEBOOK!", to "EFF Effing Facebook! Get a MySpace page like me!" They really know how to convince me. Though I quite like the Alabamarite's special American take on swearing; somehow I don't think they get it.

And all it took was a text. And all the text said was:
+447...[Unknown]: Hey [Anyhoo] how's it going? What are you up to?

Confused the hell out of me. A day later a longer edition appears, this time remembering to include a name along with many others of friends already on Facebook. And so, being a miser, rather than spend whatever it is Orange Pay Through The Nose charge for a hundred and forty characters to reply, or send an email which he'll forget about within a Stock Aitken Waterman chorus, I choose to sign up, and thus have been browsing a hinterland of friends of friends, waiting for someone to acknowledge me.

Reactions so far (during that period where no one else exists so one can only see who knows who via profile images):
She's had how many children? And they all look like her. Oh dearie me. The world doesn't need any more of those genes. Whereas she, well, she looks like her mother does now. And even he's aged; that's just wrong. Oh, it's him. I used to like him. Not sure why he disappeared. Whereas he must have led a very boring life, as all his friends are bald, white men with standard British names. And at least two thirds of her friends seem to be double-barrelled; she always was Little Miss Snobbery. You'd never guess he was gay; all his have superb photographs. And trust him to have five pages of friends. Why's everyone engaged, married or procreating? Even the non-CUers seem to be at it. He's marrying... hang on, wasn't she in school with my brother? Golly, we really do get everywhere. As for her, even her photograph looks dull.

Hmm, having been browsing and got up to a grand total of five people who'll admit they know me, I'm not wholly convinced by the concept. I dismissed MySpace as inhabited by eleven-year-olds pretending to be thirteen; from what I've seen Facebook is full of thirteen-year-olds pretending to be fifteen (or possibly thirty-year-olds doing likewise). And despite turning off all email notifications Facebook is still emailing me each time someone accepts a friendship request. I may have to truly nark Gmail and delete stuff (and does anyone use folders or tags in Gmail? Or just search?).

Not that I'm in the best position to comment on maturity. The ever faithful Winamp (WMP is just vile to use and Real crashes the whole damn time. I have no use for album art or libraries. If I wanted the pictures I'll buy the CD and I have this cunning system for finding things; it's called putting them in folder with a suitable name. I know that's an anathema to XP, but I'm still Luddite enough to knowingly use drive C) just selected Jefferson Airplane - We Built This City. How cool am I? [Just checked and apparently it's by Starship. Thus is the nature of the network].

[Added some while later]
Oh God. I've just snuck a look. And then got excited because A's acknowledged me, B's asking after me and C's saying how they know me. Yay, people I like (as opposed to people I used to like and don't really know any more, but were in my address book and I couldn't bring myself to deselect. I probably still like them, I just haven't seen them in years). How playground am I? Or how attention seeking am I? And how did I cope with this new-found popularity? I ran away and closed the window so I wouldn't have to work out suitable responses just yet (as for people asking, how are you, just above me replying to exactly the same question half an hour earlier, must I reply to each of them?).

So that's about it for this special edition of PG Network News. Any tips, comments and add-mes to the usual address (In Act, I've already seen a namesake but had no way of knowing if it was you).


Oh my gawd, I totally want to be your BFF on Facebook. Invite me and I'll, like, add you as my friend.
Mock not.

Or were you being serious? It's so hard to tell if you're being sarky or just American, thus unspeakably earnest.

And you knew I'd have to Google BFF, right?

Should you actually wish to join my illustrious cohort, send something from your desired joining email to the address on the blog (as anything going the other way doesn't seem to get past your spam filter, whereas hotmail has no such complications [judging by the number of emails that get through]). I did try searching for you already on it, but there's a heck of lot of becapped, beshortsed Americans with your name.
You should know how to spell my full name by now, just search for me on Facebook :)
I did. And then I scrolled past you for not looking like you. Old pic or have you lost weight, shaved, got more of a tan* and taken your glasses off, all while sucking your cheeks in and cocking an eyebrow?

* Yes, I know I walked past you when we first met for not really looking like I expected**, your then skintone instead being what might politely be called light gunmetal or possibly dry shale, but I don't really have that excuse this time.

** That and the savage scowl of disdainful dismissal dusted upon me (which no doubt you will repeat on viewing my profile pic).

Oh, and you're not under your full full name on Facebook, though Google has your GCSE results (I would compare them with mine, but I'm having a slight problem remembering what I got) along with a little wishlist (US QAF? Oh dear).

Hmm, I hope having said all that that it's you I've just pestered for friendship. And that after reading that you don't click "Reject".
I'm glad you found me on FB. We are now totally BFFs! Did you say email do not get though the gmail filter? I'll email you and fix that.
Well, no, it's not the FULL name, but there's most of my name in Facebook. Not to mention, "light gunmetal"? What on earth are you talking about? And there was no savage scowl of dismissal, I refuse to go through that particular charade again. Not an old pic at all, a fairly recent one.
Light gunmetal: When I first met you (and walked straight past) your face looked very, very grey. Which was possibly a reflection of late winter exams* or perhaps your body's attempt to blend with its surroundings.

* I've just checked and apparently it was nearly June. Odd. Might explain why I was feeling incredibly sweaty meeting you. Anyway, you looked grey.

Good Lord, I've just been reading the build up to meeting:
And I'm sure you'll recognise me; I'll be the panicked looking one who turns up at ten past six, runs round looking for you and missing you, stands waiting for a while, does another circuit of the shop, and only then remembers the modern marvel that is mobile telephony. If it helps, I'm tall, dark, and not so handsome. And the first two come
with a degree of -ish.

Which is disturbing like what happened. How very ICDED People (or do I mean "there is no spoon"?).

Anyway, you've changed your profile pic now, though I'm not sure if it makes you more or less like a partially bald, particularly pudgy yeti.
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