Remember MySpace? Justin Timberlake and his $35 million dollar investment seriously wish you would. Though I didn’t spend much time in the social networking world during the mid-2000s, I did join and was thrilled to discover that I immediately had a friend in Tom Anderson. You know, Tom – the cute guy in the white tee who grinned over his shoulder at you with a whiteboard behind him. True, my excitement deflated a tad when I discovered that Tom Anderson was cozy with literally everyone on MySpace – apparently, he automatically became your friend the second you signed up. But still, just seeing his smiling face on my page made me feel better about the fact that he was the only smiling face on my page for awhile.
Fast forward to the year 2008. After being needled by our friends incessantly, I finally broke down and joined Facebook. For a day or two, my Facebook page just sat there. Lonely. Drinking hard liquor. Thinking dark thoughts. Finally, I asked my soon-to-be Hubby to friend me. My page couldn’t take the solitude. Then the friend requests and acceptances started rolling in, until I began deleting the friends whom I still couldn’t remember from geometry class and the ones who posted quotes by Ann Coulter without a hint of irony. For awhile, the banter was fast and furious. I played Scrabble with online friends, posted puns in a private Facebook group, reconnected with school chums, and ignored 18,000 requests to water my friends’ tomatoes or milk their imaginary cows.
Until this little film came out about a guy named Mark Zuckerberg. Like everyone in the country, I paid my nine bucks to see The Social Network, then left cursing Zuckerberg and the machine into which I’d been lured by a smarmy-faced, Harvard dropout. The fact that Facebook had started as a method of comparing the relative hotness of Ivy League coeds disgusted me. I vowed to close my account and start writing letters again. By hand. On pretty stationery.
Then I remembered what it felt like to actually write with a pen. Ugh! The arduous drag of ink against paper. The hand cramps. The annoying callous that would form against the inside of my middle finger. The postage. Considering how much the price of stamps has increased over the last decade, Hubby and I would have to move into a tiny efficiency and eat ramen noodles for dinner every night just to afford the cost of mailing letters to all 200+ of my Facebook friends. And how would all my buddies see how cute my cats are on a daily basis? Or that artsy Instagram shot I took of an orange door? The cost of printing and mailing photos to my chums would be astronomical. Forget the efficiency. My husband and I would be huddled in a soggy refrigerator box next to a dumpster, gnawing on chunks of six day old Cuban bread that someone had tossed out because it was harder than Anderson Cooper at a Chippendales performance.
So despite my concerns that Da Man was quietly using my Facebook status updates, private messages and photos to compile a dossier on me so vast it would make Bin Laden’s look like a Wikipedia entry, I continued to reside in Zuckerberg’s cyber world. As he smugly went about his day in his Adidas flip-flops and waxed humble by living in a modest home in Palo Alto, I watched as my circle of friends slowly became less enthralled with the Facebook universe altogether. There were complaints about formatting changes like Timeline and apprehension about privacy settings that randomly changed without any warning – like the recent one that allowed all of my conservative, Born Again relatives to access posts on my not-so-conservative, agnostic blog. Thanks a lot, Mark Zuckerberg. You better be by my side, backing my ass up at the next family reunion.
Still, many Facebook users remained loyal because their fearless leader wasn’t truly selling friendship and open communication, but games like CityVille, Mafia Wars, Bejeweled and The Sims Social, otherwise know as crack to middle-aged women (according to the tech website, Gigaom, the average social gamer is a 43-year old woman). Yes, Mark Zuckerberg is a drug-peddling, slimeball selling bored, disenfranchised overweight women the cyber life (and farm animals) they’ve always wanted. But, dude, even the local drug dealer drops by and says hello now and then. If he wants to keep you as a customer, he’ll make small talk and laugh at a joke or two before any (ahem) business transaction takes place. Or so I hear. But not Zuckerberg.
Where’s the love, man? Zuckerberg’s never sent me a friend request. He’s never liked one of my witty status updates or a photo of my cats. The dude’s certainly never bothered to share one of my blog posts. Granted, I don’t really know Mark Zuckerberg, but considering he just earned over a billion dollars when he sold a paltry 30 million of his reported 500 million Facebook shares, I feel like the man could show me a little love. After all, another 900 million folks and I helped him become one of the world’s youngest billionaires; the least he could do is acknowledge my existence. Maybe say, “Thanks for not dropping me after that privacy gaffe that got you disowned by your family.”
Seriously, how cool would it be if Zuckerberg tasked a few of his 3200 employees with simply liking things Facebook users posted at random? Considering he’s a tech genius, couldn’t he easily program an application that wished every Facebook user a “Happy Birthday” (except for the Jehovah’s Witnesses, of course) on their special day? Depending on your chosen religion, Zuckerberg could shoot you a Facebook e-card wishing you all the joys of your particular holiday season. Hell, I’m easy to please. I still get a warm fuzzy feeling when I open up that Christmas card I get every December from my insurance company. And maybe once a year, the Zuckmeister himself could sit down in front of the computer and do nothing but comment – yes, I said the C-word – on random posts. Imagine how many times Facebook users would check their profiles that day in the hope that Mark Zuckerberg had typed, “This is hilarious! ROFL” beneath a photo of their labrador clenching a vibrator between it’s teeth.
So if you’re listening Mark Zuckerberg, I’m here to tell you that your new wife isn’t the only one out there who needs some lovin’. Google+ might not be that big of a threat to your masculinity, but Pinterest has captured the nation’s attention and I might reconsider MySpace if Justin Timberlake is willing to show me exactly what’s in that box he keeps singing about. All I’m asking for is a little LOL action on your part. Like Sally Field, I need you to like me. Really like me.
And if you don’t have it in you, consider hiring Tom Anderson to do the job for you. He’s an old friend of mine.
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52 thoughts on “Where’s The Love, Mark Zuckerberg?”
Stated Facebook but that guy who wanted to be my friend looked too creepy. It’s fallen into the cracks and went the way of the Overstock.com subscription. If you look at that dog with the vibratror in its mouth you’ll see the dog is embarassed. Whoever took that shot scarred that dog for life, and if male made getting ouy of the shower with Fido around a real dicey situation. Anderson Cooper goes to Chippendales?
Is that how he makes money, off those games that go around? Do you have to play to pay those? I love the thought of your page sitting around lonely, drinking itself into cyberoblivion! But this has me thinking… Facebook… I’m no Zuckerberg, but why aren’t we friends?? Great read, as always, you-who-will-be-banished-at-the-next-family-BornAgain-reunion.
You’re willing to be my Facebook friend? Even though I’m about to be disowned. Do it, Laura! Do it now! I’ll be waiting for your request.
1 – “Like everyone in the country, I paid my nine bucks to see The Social Network”: Glad to know Canadians knew better, it made a better illegal downloaded flick than a popcorn blockbuster;
2 – “Or that artsy Instagram shot I took of an orange door?”: For once I’m impressed, you skipped Hipstamatic and you jumped directly into InstaGram…
3 – The dog with the SMALL dildo? Own up, girl;
4- Fuck Zuckerberg! Where’s the love for Le Clown… Still can’t like your Facebook page, even though I’m lucky enough to be able to Facestalk your personal page;
5 – I read a whole fucking post of yours. Get this recovering alcoholic a beer, will you!
Dear Le Clown,
1) I’m not going to touch that one because it’s funnier just as it is. You hilarious Canadian, you.
2) I didn’t skip Hipstamatic; I just wasn’t cool enough to catch on to it. Thus, I went straight to Instagram. Didn’t Zuckerberg just buy that company, by the way?
3) Re: the dog with the dildo. Man, I don’t know. Your wife sent me that picture.
4) I have no idea what is up with my FB page and why it doesn’t like you. Maybe it knows something I don’t. Perhaps Zuckerberg is looking out for me.
5) That’s cause this was a relatively short post. It was less than 1300 words – that’s half the size of my typical post and a third of the size of my longer diatribes.
I wouldn’t dream of contributing to you falling off the wagon. Unless it was a very tall one and there was a chance you might be killed. What? A quick, painless death. A bump of your head against the cobblestones and you’re out. Of course, Le Clown, I’m just kidding because deep down, I love…(stifling laughter). Nope, can’t say it. I’m kidding because deep down I enjoy bantering across our pages with you way too much.
You’re also a favourite. It’s much better than just being a “favorite”. I’d appreciate if you’d keep this quiet, especially from Gemini Girl.
snappy post, woman! comment section is fairly zesty as well.
It’s the garlic salt.
missed your witty reparte. thank heavens you’re back
Awwww. I wasn’t away that long, was I?
long enough to be missed. was hoping for your critical eye well-regarded opinions
Awwww. Sorry to have neglected you. I have tons of blog reading to catch up on.
no need for apologies. just glad you’re back reading and writing and stuff.
I’m using edwards’ address…but I think your blog is cool…Zuck.
Great! I had a feeling that stephenedwards and you were tight, Zuck!
Cristy, you never dissapoint. Maybe we aren’t getting any Zuck love because he is too busy commenting on car temp pics, statuses addressed to days of the week, and those pictures that white girls take of their feet. Btw, I will probably steal that Anderson Cooper line at least 4 times tomorrow.
Steal away, my friend!
This one is heartwarming Cristy, great read, I am almost smiling at the simplicity and obviousness of the thought and how it has missed the eyes of many…Excellent
I joined facebook late and swore that I restrict my number of friends. Soon my newsfeed was crowded by puppies and kittens getting forty likes each and obscuring intelligent articles shared by the few friends I should have stopped at.
And you did it again, your last line is killer.
Why thank you. I’m a big fan of killer last lines. It doesn’t feel write to end a post with just anything. I’m afraid that I may be responsible for some of those pictures of cats you’re complaining about. But you’re right; my kitties get all kinds of love, but when I share an important article or post, I get nada!
Please please tell me you’re trying to be ironic by saying ‘write’ when you mean ‘right’. I agree. Good last lines makes posts memorable. You have a gift with last lines.
Right? What’s this word you speak of? There is only one write – the write write is write.
Now I noticed that my original comment has a grammatical error. Why my writing has become so cringeworthy I can’t understand. In one of my research articles, I’ve used a cliché phrase that makes me blush every time. And it’s permanent. And the whole world can see it. Fortunately, the people who give a crap about that obscure bit of research probably won’t notice.
At least you can spell. I can’t remember how to spell anything. I’m constantly looking up synonyms for words because they just won’t come to mind. This is so unfair for a person who never really did drugs!
I know, I’ve tried to leave Zuck but he keeps hauling me back with easy access to people I didn’t know I wanted to keep in touch with. Bastard. Twitter just doesn’t give me the same emotional hard on.
Tell me about it. I tweet my blog and that’s about it. What’s wrong with me? I just don’t get jazzed about twittering.
I did get hooked on facebook games. The games got darker though and just took all choices and control away and began to be just a series of mouse clicking orders with negative and positive reinforcement. Its like some creepy diabolical social sciences mind control experiment. They lure you in an then try to suck out your brain or something. I was repulsed and forced myself away from those games. Now that I think of it, that poker face girl – lady ga ga- was involved. I heard things about her. She’s trying to capture the spirit of butterflies and turn them into something sinister. I like some of her songs, but she may very well be an evil b**** who is trying to take over the world. Somebody ought to do some investigative journalism on that, there is a story there.
I didn’t watch that movie and I’m not planning on watching it – pirated or not.
As for wanting this zuck person to friend me, make comments on my posts (especially lol or rotflol or whatever), or sending me cheesy greetings, thats just creepy. Oh and he definitely, better not try to poke me. Anything more than a thumbs up from a stranger is a bit creepy. This Zuck person looks a bit creepy too. I’d block him and customize my privacy settings against him. I getting chills just thinking about it. Its like there are spiders everywhere. Creepy……
I need to clarify something so people don’t think I’m drunk or crazy. I don’t think the ga ga woman is the mastermind. She is one of those over confident pawns, who gets killed three quarters away from the conclusion.
By the way, I also recently had an orphan/often moment. It involved the words roommate and room 8.
Just thought of something. This may be how the epic zombie pandemic starts. S***!! I may already be infected.
I freely give my permission for anyone to kill me should I become a zombie.
Don’t worry about it. No reason at all to feel guilty. It won’t even matter that I don’t have it written in my advance directive for health care. No one will be checking during the epic zombie pandemic.
Feel free to burn my body if you can do so safely. No reason to risk your life, just to dispose of my body as I wish. Hopefully I will be forever snuffed out of existence at that time. I will not have any conscious to think or feel. Just gone, a clean and perfect ending.
Sorry, just one more piece of advice. If Javert from the health department should start harassing you about advance directives during the epic zombie pandemic — He makes excellent zombie food, should you need a distraction to get away from a zombie mob. I saw him the other day he is big but out of shape and he is every bit the Javert. If you let him live, he will just get you all killed. So I’ll repeat myself Javert = zombie food.
You got your hands on some of that medicinal pot, didn’t you?
Are you missing some? I don’t need those type of drugs. I live in my own inner world. I’m not really strange. I’m a human being living in a society where that concept is without meaning. Its everyone else that has lost their being. Good luck with find that pot. Cheerio!
No…sad to say I never had any to begin with, but if you come across any, please feel free to send it my way.
P.S. I think Ted Bundy may have believed in that whole “living in a society where that concept is without meaning.” Are you sure you aren’t actually a violent sociopath?
I haven’t bothered with researching the phiosophy of Ted Bundy. It is actually from John Trudell.
Oh, so are you becoming a political activist now? You should come on down to Florida and protest outside the RNC in August.
Note to self: Never just take a sip of Coke while reading a Cristy Carrington Lewis blog post. Too funny, Cristy. I had to laugh especially hard at myself because right after my divorce I was hoping I wouldn’t be lonely, but a friend begged me to join Facebook and the next thing ya know I was planting corn and cutting down trees. Ain’t life grand?
I tried FarmVille one time and I was like, “Erm, no! This farm is too demanding. This is why I don’t have a dog.” Just discovering that the average online gamer was a 43 year old woman (yes, that would be me) was depressing. Now I won’t go near them because I’m sure I’d get hooked and we’d end up eating ramen because I’d never cook anymore. I’d be too busy harvesting and selling my tomatoes in FarmVille!
P.S. Sorry about the Coke on your blouse.
Another thing—I had the same realization about writing with pen on paper recently. It’s amazing how out of touch we are with that. It took me a forever to write a paragraph. My hand had forgotten to move that way. I even got irritated with the sound the pen made on the paper as I scribbled laboriously.
If 900 million people planted real crops, world hunger would be obliterated. If 900 million people sent snail mail to hundreds of their “friends” every day, the Postal Service would be so rich and so busy they’d have to start Sunday delivery instead of stopping Saturday delivery like they are currently threatening. And if 900 million people offed just one real gangster a day, there would be no gangs left at all. So if Zuckerberg REALLY had some imagination, he would figure out how to move his network into reality instead of a nonsense world where nothing really grows and no one knows half the people on their friend list.
Ooops didn’t mean to be so serious. ‘Cuz your post did make me laugh!
Hey, whatever works! Good thoughts. 🙂
Oh, CCL. Some day M-Zuk and his SEO gods will find you. ’til then, m’dear!
Well, you DID get a certain funny man to draw a certain part of the anatomy (I can’t say it or the Michigan legislature won’t allow me to comment on your blog again) on your book. Anything is possible, CCL. And if it is possible, then you can make it happen.
I love the inherent ‘snark’ in your writing. You’re so effortlessly witty it’s a joy to read your blog posts. I’ve been hooked for about a year now.
I went through a similar determination to abandon Facebook after watching The Social Network, but alas could not tear myself away. The silver lining: I am a bit more careful about my privacy settings and what I put out there.
Smart woman. I wish you’d had been hooked for a year, but I’ve only been blogging since late January, so it must be a familial thing. Spending time with me just feels like you did it a really long time ago. Time flies when you’re having fun, right?
I didn’t know it was even possible to quote Ann Coulter without being ironic. I’m going to have to mull that over a while.
There’s an entire news network devoted to quoting Ann Coulter without the slightest hint of irony. If I watch it, I have nightmares.
I say we jump her in the parking lot after the concert.
Hi, just wanted to say, I loved this blog post.
It was funny. Keep on posting!
Thanks so much! I will be posting again regularly beginning this week. Please come back and visit again!