Facebook Things (Alternate title: Hi, I'm Judgy McJudgerson. And you are...?)

1. I have gotten at least three comments in the past week regarding the giant margarita in my current Facebook profile picture. I don't know what all the fuss is about. The picture in question was taken in Mexico, after all, where margaritas are supposed to be as big as my head. One might argue that Mexico doesn't have to hold the patent on giant margaritas just because Mexico is where the tequila lives, but I'm trying to play by other people's rules here. People like the approximately 85% of my friend list whose profile picture features an infant or small child. I was actually thinking that perhaps I should borrow a baby for my next profile picture just to help me fit in a bit more with that crew. As it is, someone might erroneously believe that I am using tequila as a substitute for a baby. Actually, that would be a fine substitute if you ask me. Most days I would gladly take responsibility for tequila over responsibility for an infant, but I realize that's just me. I shared this train of thought with -R- a while back, and even though she does have her own baby (featured in her Facebook profile pic), she suggested that perhaps her next profile picture would be of her with a giant glass of wine. To which I, of course, replied, "Wine! Ah, yes. My FIRST-born child!" Someday perhaps I'll post a family picture of all three of us.
   
   
2. I think a particular high school acquaintance of mine has decided that Facebook's "What's on your mind?" prompt actually means "Precisely what's on your schedule today?" Every day he updates his status to say, "Chip is at work 7 am to 7 am, on the road 4 to midnight" or "Chip is at work 7 am to 7 am, on the road 3 to 11." I do not even know what this means except that if I wanted to rob his house, I'd have a pretty good shot at knowing when to best attempt that. And by "when," it seems I mean anytime, since he is apparently at work 24 hours every day. Incidentally, his name is not actually Chip. But "Chip" sounds just meathead enough to fit the person in question, and using "Chip" in place of his real name will prevent any of you from finding this particular person in my friends list and friending him yourself just to gain access to these riveting updates.
   
   
3. I have never yet created a Facebook event myself, so when I see invitations for various events, I can't be quite sure which information was entirely host-generated and which was selected from a drop-down list of default options. Is "Party - Night of Mayhem" a standard Facebook descriptor? I sort of hope it is. I also sort of want to use Facebook rather than Evite to invite friends to my next party (privacy and such be damned), because I sort of think perhaps there's not quite enough mayhem in my life. Night of mayhem. Doesn't that sound fun? Maybe not. Hmm.
   
   
4. I keep vowing never to click another silly quiz link that shows up in my news feed. In some foolish and gullible part of me, I would like to believe I might actually learn something interesting or insightful about myself from Facebook's "Who is your soul mate?" or "What color are you?" quiz, but in reality, any quiz that is riddled with spelling and grammar errors or asks me if I enjoy the smell of my own farts (no, really; that was on the "What alcohol are you?" quiz, and I refused to finish the remaining questions on the grounds of that one's ridiculousness) is probably not particularly legitimate. And yet? I keep clicking through, out of curiosity or self-inflicted punishment or simple boredom and lack of motivation to find anything better to do. Today, however, when a Facebook quiz asked me for my perfect choice on a first date and one of the multiple choice answers was "Olive Garden (or another nice place)," I became convinced once and for all that these Facebook quizzes are written by 13-year-olds. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy the $5 bottomless soup, salad, and breadsticks lunch as much as the next girl, but a bottomless soup bowl does not automatically equate to "nice place" in my mind. But then, I am the giant snob who laughed when the bartender at a supper club in my grandma's town pulled a bottle of "Mer-lott" off ice, so maybe I'm the one in the wrong.
   
   
5. Speaking of boredom and pointless curiosity, I've picked up a little hobby that I'm more than a bit ashamed to tell you about. Every few weeks, I like to pull up my ex-boyfriend's new ex-wife's Facebook profile. Once upon a time, I didn't let myself look at it because it only tortured me. Now that I don't give a damn about her, however, I find myself wholly amused by her profile, and viewing it is the sort of smug guilty pleasure that many of you look to reality shows on VH-1 or MTV to satisfy. It started when I realized that she and the man who I suspect was the reason her marriage ended were leaving each other inappropriately suggestive comments in what is essentially a public forum. Seriously, people, there was love poetry. BAD love poetry. The sort of love poetry found in 80s hair band lyrics. Come to think of it, it may have actually been 80s hair band lyrics, as the man in question is 16 years older than she is and was likely driving his mulleted self to Skid Row and Whitesnake concerts while she was playing with My Little Ponies and drinking out of a juice box. Now, however, it's not only the ex-wife and her new boyfriend whose wall posts I look forward to, but I find myself hoping to see an appearance from the ex-wife's friend "Hojanna" as well. I feel a little bit bad making fun of Hojanna, because it's entirely possible she may be "special" in the "air quotes around 'special'" way. Or maybe she is just a very bad speller. ("I saw your changed relationship statice," she wrote recently. "Whoes the new boe?") A very bad speller with a very bad picture. (Is it really possible that the best photo she could find of herself was one with a wide smile but her eyes fully closed?) A bad speller with a bad picture whose view of reality is maybe a little different from my own. ("I have a boyfriend, too!" she posted on the ex-wife's wall. "I met him on [meMarmony]. He lives in Ohio and we haven't met yet, but it's going really well.") Come on, now. Tell me you wouldn't click back on occasion for more of that comedy gold!