humans are funny

Category: Facebook

  • The red fern grew in Japan, which is not really in China.

    When I arrived home from my around-the-world adventure last year, I felt like I knew what to do with my life. I’d been ashamed in Cambodia that I knew little about the holocaust there even though it happened in my very lifetime. Assuming other Americans my age were in a similar boat, I felt like my life’s purpose should be to write, the goal being to use humor to tell the world about the world.

    And then I started writing about Snooki and poo instead.

    But I am again renewed in my passion after seeing this gem from Lamebook:

    I’d like to first comment about how someone put a lot of time and thought into a Facebook app that tells you what kind of Asian you are. Umm…. actually, I’d like to not comment because I immediately imagine it asks racist questions like, ‘Do your parents own a convenience store, nail salon, or nothing because the Communist government won’t let them?’ Sorry. I know. Horrible. But, come on! What kind of app is that?

    Anyway, the more pressing issue is the chick who thinks that Japanese people are from China.
    The world needs help, my friends. Lots of help.

    But based on this guy’s Facebook profile,

    it seems that those who don’t read are kind of proud of it. If the only book I’d ever read was on the required list in junior high, I probably wouldn’t tell anybody. (But I’d also give books another chance. I mean… Where the Red Fern Grows? The only book? I can see why you may have been turned off, my friend, but at least try another. Read Maus if you have to. Geesh. [that’s a comic book- get it?])

    Now I’ve concluded that if I try to write more about the world, the people who need to read it won’t. Therefore, back to Snooki. I kind of miss her these days. And, OMG, let’s all plan a trip to China for sushi and kimonos.

  • Beware of the love caused by sweater terriers.

    It was a time when love mattered most: Addison, Illinois. 1990. Me. A Latin Lover with hair gelled to look like a bird’s nest. A freckly fresh-faced boy aggressive with his lips. A love triangle.

    The echoed hallways of Fullerton Elementary.
    As I debated with the Latin Lover over whether Brandon Walsh should really go for Andrea Zuckerman, Freckle Face interrupted.

    “All right, Laurenne,” he said. “You have to choose.”

    I threw him a look of despair. “Choose?”
    I began to sweat and could feel the tears about to plunge from my eyes. “Choose? That’s like asking me to choose between air [dramatic pause]… and water.”

    The Latin Lover, perplexed, ruffled his bird’s nest hair. “You mean you’re in love with both of us?”

    There was a long silence. “Yes,” I said. “Yes. My fourth-grade heart beats for you both.”

    Upon hearing the truth, my saddened lovers retreated to their classrooms. I fell to the floor, my heart screaming. It yelled to me that it burned for them both equally. But something… some unearthly element enveloped my soul and said, ‘Freckles. Freckles!’ So, I listened. Not to my heart but to my guiding light, the light that said, ‘You must invite Freckles to your New Kids on the Block party this weekend.’

    And that I did. It was a decision I would regret for eternity.

    A nightmare ensued that night. As I embraced the screen to see if I could feel Jordan Knight’s fluffy locks through the nineties pay-per-view technology, a hardened jealousy overtook my fresh-faced lover and his aggression reared. He stormed out, never to be seen again.

    But it was too late. The Latin Lover wouldn’t take me back. And he, too, stormed out of my life.

    Both true loves were gone. Gone! My air and my water had vanished. Without a trace. (try repeating that really dramatically) Without a trace.

    Until 2010.

    That’s right. They’ve both reappeared, and I can finally breathe again. Breathe again. Yes, I can finally breathe again.

    And I owe it all… to Facebook. I have to say that I haven’t been quite a fan of Facebook up until now. I like it and all, but I have calculated that it has stolen 4,561 hours of my time since its invention. I would have been an astronaut and have 12 best-sellers by now if Facebook had never come to town. Do I really care that a coworker from 4 jobs ago is drinking a PBR on the beach? Or how awesome your wedding was even though I haven’t spoken to you since kindergarten? Yes, I guess I do. Because there I go looking at your pictures. In fact, Facebook has distracted me away from so many thi–

    But I’ve put that all aside because I now see the reason Facebook was invented: to finally reunite me with the true passion of my fourth-grade love. Freckles lives in Buffalo and the Latin Lover sells phones not far from my hometown. Both have girlfriends and don’t seem at all interested in talking with me about whether or not Brandon Walsh should have ended up with Andrea Zuckerman. I thought you were supposed to look back at life in hindsight and share the true knowledge that twenty years can bring.

    Sigh.

    At least I have my closure. I have been waiting all these years, putting off marriage and relationships and love in the case that these lovers reappear. And now that they’re back, I can finally move on. Thanks, Facebook. Thank you.

    Adrian and Jesse: If either of you want to watch a NKOTB concert, I’m here. I’ll always be here. With a VHS.

    Of course I was caught in a love triangle! Amazing hat, hair to match, and terriers on my sweater.

    I got too cool for diaries by the time of the triangle, but this illustrates what a romantic I was: Thanksgiving 1987. Weather: sunny I Love and Like Robbie he looks at me all thru school oooo I love him. But he Dosen’t no it. I think he likes me to. (smiley face) he’s kind of cute Robbie always plays football after lunch outside. I love you Robbie Amy likes you to but she moved Cari like’s you but she to young I’m just Right [Incidentally, Robbie never reciprocated my beautiful love. Burn.]