Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Seven Days Without Facebook is Some Weak-ass Shit!
Facebook both sucks and is awesome.
Things that are AWESOME:
-Tagging every picture I can get my paws on. Even people in the background. Tag em. Tag em ALL.
-Having an instant fix for my pathological need for attention. All I have to do is have a witty headline for whatever the hell I am doing and behold! 15 comments from people I could just as easily call/see in person.
-Putting lots o' pictures up of all the fun and exciting things I do, complete with clever captions for entertainment value!
-Occasionally linking to my blog (something I actually care about and am trying to shape).
-Untagging ugly pictures of me because somehow it will cause people to think I am a shitty looking version of myself.
-Mindlessly clicking through a high school acquaintance's wedding/baby pictures for alot longer than I should.
-Harrassing my mother, sister, aunt, cousin, Alisa and Danny to no end.
-Poke around the site of a boy I met the day/night/weekend before. I am not ashamed to judge based on a history of frat-boy man-pile pictures with beer, sideways hats and hand signals. I simply leave dry-yet-disdainful comments and stick the poor bloke in the platonic friend category. Next!
Now, onto things that SUCK
-Knowing that you got up at 5am, you're fucking tired and "Ugh, it's Monday." On Thursday, you are "excited about the weekend" and "get to see (insert friend no one knows here)." Saturday you are hungover and Sunday you really hope your Team wins. Jesus at least Twitter is funny. The most guilty of this crap? Me.
-Being tagged in a photo where you look like a beast.
-Jackass people I work with/go to Kabbalah with/vaguely know making assumptions because my pictures involve my weekend outings. I yawn, and in reply I get a "Hey are you tired? Too much partyin' eh? Eh?" Oy!
-Emotional Cutting. In short, this is what you do when you go to the Facebook site of someone you know you shouldn't go to the Facebook site of and look at pictures you don't want to see and click on links you don't want to click on. People look at us, we look at them. What a negative shitshow.
-Facebook Chat. I'll hit you up. Otherwise, leave me alone.
-Facebook in General: My life has no ambiguity. There is no mystery. No "I wonder what he/she is like" or "I'm curious about..." Nope. Its all there. Described in detail on a newsfeed and laid out in pictures. Everyone is connected and dependent and enslaved. It causes you to not function without having to pause and share every thought and gather the thoughts of others. Had a great day in (Insert City Here)? Post it on Facebook, because it didn't really happen unless everyone is envious/entertained by it.
So what to do?
Well, I am a proud/ashamed Facebook addict. Thus, I have decided against getting rid of my Facebook and instead decided to abstain for one week. I will take note of the effect this has on my life in general. At the end of the week, I will probably post a link on my Facebook linking to this blog where people can read about what I did while NOT on Facebook.
Or...maybe I won't. Let see what I learn.
For now, Goodbye Facebook. You have left me in a tired, bored, trance for too long. You have caused me to hold on to things I should let go of and let go of everything else but you. You have fried my brain and worn out my laptop battery. I have missed dance classes and TV shows and sleep. I am done for one week.
...because I don't think I could give it up for longer than that.
Things that are AWESOME:
-Tagging every picture I can get my paws on. Even people in the background. Tag em. Tag em ALL.
-Having an instant fix for my pathological need for attention. All I have to do is have a witty headline for whatever the hell I am doing and behold! 15 comments from people I could just as easily call/see in person.
-Putting lots o' pictures up of all the fun and exciting things I do, complete with clever captions for entertainment value!
-Occasionally linking to my blog (something I actually care about and am trying to shape).
-Untagging ugly pictures of me because somehow it will cause people to think I am a shitty looking version of myself.
-Mindlessly clicking through a high school acquaintance's wedding/baby pictures for alot longer than I should.
-Harrassing my mother, sister, aunt, cousin, Alisa and Danny to no end.
-Poke around the site of a boy I met the day/night/weekend before. I am not ashamed to judge based on a history of frat-boy man-pile pictures with beer, sideways hats and hand signals. I simply leave dry-yet-disdainful comments and stick the poor bloke in the platonic friend category. Next!
Now, onto things that SUCK
-Knowing that you got up at 5am, you're fucking tired and "Ugh, it's Monday." On Thursday, you are "excited about the weekend" and "get to see (insert friend no one knows here)." Saturday you are hungover and Sunday you really hope your Team wins. Jesus at least Twitter is funny. The most guilty of this crap? Me.
-Being tagged in a photo where you look like a beast.
-Jackass people I work with/go to Kabbalah with/vaguely know making assumptions because my pictures involve my weekend outings. I yawn, and in reply I get a "Hey are you tired? Too much partyin' eh? Eh?" Oy!
-Emotional Cutting. In short, this is what you do when you go to the Facebook site of someone you know you shouldn't go to the Facebook site of and look at pictures you don't want to see and click on links you don't want to click on. People look at us, we look at them. What a negative shitshow.
-Facebook Chat. I'll hit you up. Otherwise, leave me alone.
-Facebook in General: My life has no ambiguity. There is no mystery. No "I wonder what he/she is like" or "I'm curious about..." Nope. Its all there. Described in detail on a newsfeed and laid out in pictures. Everyone is connected and dependent and enslaved. It causes you to not function without having to pause and share every thought and gather the thoughts of others. Had a great day in (Insert City Here)? Post it on Facebook, because it didn't really happen unless everyone is envious/entertained by it.
So what to do?
Well, I am a proud/ashamed Facebook addict. Thus, I have decided against getting rid of my Facebook and instead decided to abstain for one week. I will take note of the effect this has on my life in general. At the end of the week, I will probably post a link on my Facebook linking to this blog where people can read about what I did while NOT on Facebook.
Or...maybe I won't. Let see what I learn.
For now, Goodbye Facebook. You have left me in a tired, bored, trance for too long. You have caused me to hold on to things I should let go of and let go of everything else but you. You have fried my brain and worn out my laptop battery. I have missed dance classes and TV shows and sleep. I am done for one week.
...because I don't think I could give it up for longer than that.
Friday, October 9, 2009
I went to Italy!
And if you want to read my long, narcissistic ramblings about it, you've come to the right place.
Day 0 - Chess in the Airport and the resulting Madness
Day 1 - Train Station Hysteria and the Beauty of Firenze
Day 2 - David, what a Man!
Day 3 - Trains, Skulls, and a Forgotten Stumbling Home
Day 4 - Confusion in the Sistine Chapel, Wikipedia Tour Guides, and Italian Crazy People
Day 5 - Euro Extortion and the Danger of Being Alone
Day 6 - Chain of Screaming and the Venice Alternative
Day 7 - Executions, Flying Rats, and Kissing Italian Boys
Day 0 - Chess in the Airport and the resulting Madness
Day 1 - Train Station Hysteria and the Beauty of Firenze
Day 2 - David, what a Man!
Day 3 - Trains, Skulls, and a Forgotten Stumbling Home
Day 4 - Confusion in the Sistine Chapel, Wikipedia Tour Guides, and Italian Crazy People
Day 5 - Euro Extortion and the Danger of Being Alone
Day 6 - Chain of Screaming and the Venice Alternative
Day 7 - Executions, Flying Rats, and Kissing Italian Boys
A Day from Mama Sue's June Visit
A little late, but worth a post.
I should have known that my mother, a heavy packer under normal circumstances, was going to greet me with 4 suitcases holding no less than 850lbs of shit. She had been in Brooklyn for 2 weeks prior visiting East Coast family. This being said, I ask you - I BEG you - to tell me why this woman felt the need to travel with 6 cookbooks.
I arrived at my cousin Amanda's house where my Ma was babysitting Dominic, Amanda's newborn baby (of course that's his name, right?) "Nanny Fanny Pudding n' Pie!" - I hear shouted as soon as I walk in.
Enter Mama Sue. Buckle up, its gonna be one hell of a ride.
Amanda was due to be home in an hour, so until then, we were on nanny duty. I had never met Baby Dom. I should take this moment to enthusiastically proclaim that Dom is the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. Olive skinned, big brown eyes, and a smile that takes up his whole face. I love that little man more than anything. I will also point out that it is an amazing thing watching your mother be, well, a parent. It has been, presumably, twenty years since Mama Sue had to change a shitty diaper or burp an infant yet she was able to revert back to newborn mother status like it was nothing. Warming the bottle, putting the kid in the carrier thing, bouncing it in her lap (you know, whatever it is people do with babies). She had it down like it was a routine. Come to think of it...this dog-and-pony show was probably nothing compared to raising me.
We headed off to dinner after that. It is at this point that I should mention that there are a few things, as a Destefano woman, that you would rather have a root canal than deal with. A notable one is being in a situation that may require another Destafano woman to shout an an innocent bystander. To put it plainly: my mother HATES being interrupted by strangers trying to sell or tell us something. She hates random chatty people, Academy Award acceptance speeches, poorly behaved children, and all other humans that contribute to social awkwardness. Someone in a shopping mall is freaking out? You'd rather die than deal with the already icky situation in the presence of my mother.
To provide an example, I will use the dinner we had that night at a brewery in Burbank. Me, my sister, our closest friends, and Mama Sue had an amazing dinner and probably a few too many cock-a-ma-tails on the back patio of the restaurant. 10 feet away, there was another large party that finished and left as we were still ordering dessert. The busboy proceeded to clear the tables that were pushed together, and then the waiter came to separate them back to their original locations. I should remind you that this is patio furnature on a concrete-like surface. Therefore, this waiter's determination to reorganize everything in a frenzy created no much noise we couldn't hear eachother to order dessert. There would be 5 seconds of silence, and as soon as Ma began, "how about the tiramisu?' He would begin dragging another metal table with a deafening screech.
Finally she stopped mid-sentence, glared over at the poor guy, threw her arms in the air and shouted, "REALLY?!? Really?...."
I hung my head and took slow breaths in an effort to slow my pulse down.
Besides Ma's quick (and implied) verbal thrashing at the waiter, who totally deserved it might I add, the night was uneventful after that. I hadn't slept in days because, apparently, making sure you see someone off to the middle east for two months is a week long bar hopping event with 20 other people. Needless to say, I needed to get some sleep.
A great day with Mama Sue.
I should have known that my mother, a heavy packer under normal circumstances, was going to greet me with 4 suitcases holding no less than 850lbs of shit. She had been in Brooklyn for 2 weeks prior visiting East Coast family. This being said, I ask you - I BEG you - to tell me why this woman felt the need to travel with 6 cookbooks.
I arrived at my cousin Amanda's house where my Ma was babysitting Dominic, Amanda's newborn baby (of course that's his name, right?) "Nanny Fanny Pudding n' Pie!" - I hear shouted as soon as I walk in.
Enter Mama Sue. Buckle up, its gonna be one hell of a ride.
Amanda was due to be home in an hour, so until then, we were on nanny duty. I had never met Baby Dom. I should take this moment to enthusiastically proclaim that Dom is the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. Olive skinned, big brown eyes, and a smile that takes up his whole face. I love that little man more than anything. I will also point out that it is an amazing thing watching your mother be, well, a parent. It has been, presumably, twenty years since Mama Sue had to change a shitty diaper or burp an infant yet she was able to revert back to newborn mother status like it was nothing. Warming the bottle, putting the kid in the carrier thing, bouncing it in her lap (you know, whatever it is people do with babies). She had it down like it was a routine. Come to think of it...this dog-and-pony show was probably nothing compared to raising me.
We headed off to dinner after that. It is at this point that I should mention that there are a few things, as a Destefano woman, that you would rather have a root canal than deal with. A notable one is being in a situation that may require another Destafano woman to shout an an innocent bystander. To put it plainly: my mother HATES being interrupted by strangers trying to sell or tell us something. She hates random chatty people, Academy Award acceptance speeches, poorly behaved children, and all other humans that contribute to social awkwardness. Someone in a shopping mall is freaking out? You'd rather die than deal with the already icky situation in the presence of my mother.
To provide an example, I will use the dinner we had that night at a brewery in Burbank. Me, my sister, our closest friends, and Mama Sue had an amazing dinner and probably a few too many cock-a-ma-tails on the back patio of the restaurant. 10 feet away, there was another large party that finished and left as we were still ordering dessert. The busboy proceeded to clear the tables that were pushed together, and then the waiter came to separate them back to their original locations. I should remind you that this is patio furnature on a concrete-like surface. Therefore, this waiter's determination to reorganize everything in a frenzy created no much noise we couldn't hear eachother to order dessert. There would be 5 seconds of silence, and as soon as Ma began, "how about the tiramisu?' He would begin dragging another metal table with a deafening screech.
Finally she stopped mid-sentence, glared over at the poor guy, threw her arms in the air and shouted, "REALLY?!? Really?...."
I hung my head and took slow breaths in an effort to slow my pulse down.
Besides Ma's quick (and implied) verbal thrashing at the waiter, who totally deserved it might I add, the night was uneventful after that. I hadn't slept in days because, apparently, making sure you see someone off to the middle east for two months is a week long bar hopping event with 20 other people. Needless to say, I needed to get some sleep.
A great day with Mama Sue.
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