What you missed this week on Facebook

I was Wiki'ing tonight. And, well let me get right to the point. So in that old windshield wiper commercial, that wasn't really Laurel and Hardy? And not only wasn't it them, but they were already dead?!?! I feel so disillusioned.

It was a fine week here in Bone Diego, USA. Several of us attended the Braves/Brewers game in Atlanta last Saturday where we enjoyed seeing the Braves light up the scoreboard with zero runs. The week also included a round of golf, dinner with Lil Bootay, as well as spending time with the nephew, the godson, and the Darryls (all at different times and different locations). Wow, all that wouldn't even fit into one Tweet. I guess I really was the proverbial social butterfly this week. As opposed to my usual anti-social caterpillar-that-likes-to-nap persona.

But enough about life away from the computer. Let's get to the important stuff. Here at IYROOBTY, we are all about inclusion. So here are a few things you might have missed on Facebook this week. You know, if you actually have a life and aren't on Facebook, or if you are on Facebook and just haven't accepted any of my repeated friend requests.

Little Joe and Wolfgang each created "How Well Do You Know Me" quizzes. I scored 50% on Wolfgang's and 66% on LJ's. I was pleased with those scores--not terrible, but low enough so as to still appear hetero. Wolfgang, however, scored 100% on LJ's quiz. I suppose that's only natural though. After all, they are the Darryls.

What's even funnier--if that's possible--is that LJ's girlfriend took the quiz and only got 83%. We joked and joked about that. Or, I joked and joked about it.

Oh that's right, we finally got to meet the girlfriend last weekend. A few days before the big event, I had "the talk" with LJ:

"Does she watch General Hospital?"
"I don't know. I haven't told her about that yet."
"Well, what are you gonna do when we start discussing it Saturday, just pretend you have no idea what we're talking about?"
"I guess I need to tell her."

He did. She doesn't. But she has agreed to accept his lifestyle. Wolfgang and I have decided this is it for LJ, you know because clearly that's our decision to make. He asked me the other night,"If LJ gets married, where does that leave us?" I've often wondered the same thing. I mean, what are you talking about? There is no "us."

In other what-you-missed-this-week-on-Facebook news, I took the "What Kenny Chesney song are you" quiz and got the result "Soul Of A Sailor," which I don't even really know. Soon thereafter Wolfgang and LJ took the same quiz (because apparently I'm their leader). Thankfully, they each got different results.

Then last night, I noticed LJ had taken the quiz a second time. Odd, I thought. Even more odd was the message that had been typed above his result. Evidently, his girlfriend had taken the quiz under his name, and had typed a little love note on his wall for all the world to see. But as she was signed into his account, it appeared like this:

Little Joe: "I love the man I'm with, and always will."

Clearly, that needs no further embellishment or explanation.

Let's close now with some final tidbits from the past week in Facebook, or what I like to call, Facebits:

I received a friend request from a girl I made out with one time in high school. She, of course, is married with two teenage kids now.

I managed to avoid being poked, prodded, or kidnapped the entire week.

I scored a bingo in Lexulous (aka Facebook Scrabble) with the word "detente."

And last but not least, I posted this picture of Uncle Bone and Nephew Bone (but mostly Nephew Bone):


(Memorial Day 2009, circa 9 months)

And that's the week that was in Facebook.

"Too old to be wild and free still. Too young to be over the hill. Should try to grow up, but who knows where to start..."

Changing my relationship status

Roughly fourteen months ago, I was the victim of some sort of a failed setup. Failed in the sense that we never went out and five months later the girl had been impregnated by someone who most likely doesn't kiss in multiples of five.

This past Friday, the female portion of Kywana IM'd me to let me know that the baby had arrived. So Saturday night, I rode to the hospital with Kywana to visit. After all, that was almost my kid! Almost, that is, except for the complete lack of any physical contact with the mother. So... really not very close at all.

Shortly after we arrived, some other friends showed up and before long the conversation--as it is wont to do in 2009--turned to Facebook. Normally, this is the time when I look for the first opportunity to change the subject before I gouge my own eyes out. However, I was distracted by setup girl's mother and the uncanny resemblance she bore to small screen legend Judith Light.

So the conversation continued, and at some point turned to our respective familiarity with Facebook or lack thereof. That is when I confessed, "I don't even know how to change my relationship status on Facebook... or in real life."

I said it to get a laugh, which it did. But at the same time, the words stuck with me. It was one of those things you never realize until you say it out loud and actually hear the words coming out of your mouth for the first time.

Earlier in the evening at dinner, I brought up the fact that this May will mark the ten year anniversary of the infamous Atlanta trip. I've been thinking about that a lot since. There were nine people on the trip. All single. All in our twenties. Today, eight of the nine are married. And now there's just me.

By all indicators, I've been going through a bit of a relationship recession the past few months. No doubt due in part to my failed policies over the previous eight years. This is where a back-up plan would really come in handy. I think I had a couple of back-ups at one point. But for the life of me I can't remember who they were with, nor the terms of those agreements.

So where to now? Well, I have made it my goal to get a kiss this coming New Year's Eve. But that's long-term. What about a short-term fix--something to help those who are struggling now?

Here's what I'm thinking: Maybe if I first figure out how to change my relationship status on Facebook, then my real life relationship status will follow. Sort of like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

With logic like that, how can I not fail to succeed?

"I'm getting bored of Facebook. So don't invite me, throw a sheep or bite me. I hate applications. There are far too many and I don't use any..."

Leaving Atlanta

Leaving Atlanta on Sunday afternoon was always the same. The cityscape fading into the haze and over the horizon. Ten lanes changing into eight, six, and finally four, as we chased the sun for awhile across the western sky. There is always something lonesome to me about leaving behind the life and excitement of the city.

We would stop before we got to the state line to fill up with gas, get a cold drink, and buy a lottery ticket. Back in the car, we'd talk about all the things we would do if we won, what we'd buy and the places we'd go. They were always different, but always the same.

Almost invariably, she would fall asleep. And I would listen to the 80's station out of Atlanta until the signal faded into unintelligible clutter. Sometimes I would be lost in thought and not even notice the static.

Birmingham always woke her. Turning her head to look out the window, realizing where we were, she would offer a soft smile. One of those lovers' smiles that says things words could never hope to express. I can still see her sleepy eyes if I close mine...

Today, Atlanta still has Six Flags and the Braves, and a beautiful cityscape. I don't think they have the 80's station anymore. Last time I was there, I couldn't find it. But you can still stop at some little store near the state line and get a lottery ticket. And think about the things you'd buy if you won.

Or maybe about the things you can't.

"Put her there in the front yard swing. Cotton dress, make it early spring. And for awhile she'll be mine again, if you can paint me a Birmingham..."

Last remaining single cousin

I haven't been feeling well the past couple of days. Woke up with a very mild sore throat Friday morning. It hasn't gotten any worse or better, but it also hasn't gone away. Is there a WebMD in the house? Began feeling really tired yesterday. Left work early and laid in bed most of the afternoon and evening.

Fortunately, the History Channel was off da hook last night. (It's a hip phrase the kids are using. Don't concern yourself with it.) First, they had a UFO special on that I hadn't seen before. Then came Lost Worlds: Secret Cities of the A Bomb. Am I the only person who saw this? It was fascinating. And some of those Calutron Girls were pretty cute!

The past few days have been filled with little friendly reminders that I am still single. Post-it notes, if you will, that say things such as "Still a bachelor," "You need a woman", and "You're 33, get married already." It began Thursday when I went to the mall to look for a new shirt, tie, and maybe pants to wear to my last remaining single cousin's wedding on Saturday.

As stated previously, I prefer to have a female with me on shopping excursions. When I do have to go alone, I like to find an attractive sales associate in the store to help me. Well, this wasn't happening at either store I ventured into Thursday night.

After looking around for half an hour and getting no help in the first store, I walked down to store B. One lady attempted to help me there. But after an hour of her trying to help, I wound up picking out a shirt and tie on my own while she was taking care of some other customers.

Reminder number two was Friday when I drove to Atlanta. By myself. Stayed in a spacious hotel room with two beds and a balcony. By myself. Ordered room service for breakfast. By myself. (From the price of my omelet and orange juice, I have deduced that eggs must be very rare in Atlanta.)

The wedding Saturday went off without a hitch. Actually, I guess that isn't entirely true, since the entire point of the wedding is to get hitched. So there was one intentional hitch, at the end.

As it stands now, I am the last remaining single cousin. At least over the age of 20 or 21. It's actually not that bad. I think of it kinda like a great quarterback who hasn't won the big one. The best golfer never to win a major. Basically, I'm to relationships what Colin Montgomerie is to golf. We've both gotten close. Just haven't closed the deal yet.

Driving home Saturday, I was making excellent time. That is, until the interstate was closed because of a wreck north of Birmingham. So I and every other northbound driver were routed off onto a two-lane road.

One might think driving thru the Alabama countryside for ten or twelve miles at an average speed of six miles per hour would be a pleasant experience. Yeah, not so much. What normally would be a three hour drive ended up taking six.

Oh sure, there were highlights. Like the college kids two cars ahead of me continuously getting out of their car and running up to the vehicle ahead of them, dribbling a basketball out the window, etc. There were the fields and woodlands and little country homes, one of which had a Confederate flag flying in the front yard.

And then there was me attempting to, uh, refill a mostly empty Mountain Dew bottle. (I knew I shouldn't have stopped for that 20 ounce Dew, Zero candy bar, and scratch off tickets before I left Georgia.)

If we can't avoid hitting the toilet seat while standing still, well you can imagine what fun it was trying to keep it in a one-inch diameter hole. While driving. And trying not to be conspicuous. In stop-and-go traffic.

Let's just say I didn't eat anything or touch my face with my hands until I got home to my anti-bacterial soap.

And now, I'm sick. With no one to bring me juice or a wet washcloth for my forehead. Yet another reminder.

So you see. Shopping. Road trips. Weddings. Traffic jams. Being sick. Peeing in a bottle. These are just some of the reasons I need a female companion. And over the past five days, I've gotten that message loud and clear.

When or if I'll find said companion remains to be seen. In the meantime, whenever the next major golf tournament is, I'll be rooting for Monty.

"Now they're goin' to bed. And my stomach is sick. And it's all in my head. But she's touching his chest now. He takes off her dress now. Let me go..."

I don't care if I never get back

"I've always liked Atlanta. And not just for the strip clubs." - Jon Stewart

I woke up Sunday morning around 6:00, to the world's loudest alarm clock. So I've been told by others who have heard it. And since it normally takes me a good ten minutes to even hear the alarm, I'm sure my neighbors love me. I had almost forgotten there even was a 6 AM. Been awhile since I'd seen it.

It's quite remarkable how much easier it is to wake up for a road trip than it is to wake up for work. I was excited. A trip to Atlanta to see my beloved Reds. A nice drive. A city I don't visit very often anymore. And baseball. Axl arrived shortly after 7. We were on the road by 7:30.

I wore a Reds t-shirt and cap, cargo shorts, and flip-flops. I put an extra pair of flip-flops in the back of the car, because I'm always afraid of blowing out a pair and having to walk barefooted thru a restaurant in some sort of Mentos commercial gone bad. Or worse, what if I had to pee? Public restroom. Me with only one shoe? That is a germophobic nightmare. I'd have to lop off my foot.

We made it to Atlanta in about three hours. Highlights of the drive included a train of five or six police cars lined up single file along an interstate on-ramp, taking off one-by-one like airplanes on a runway to chase down speeding cars. Because we all know, one of the most serious threats to society today is speeding. And besides that, the best time to catch someone speeding or drinking and driving would be Sunday morning around 10:00 AM.

Another highlight was when we reached the part of I-20 that is so bumpy and in such bad condition, it was making the CD player in my car skip unrelentingly. That's a fun ten miles.

Upon arriving, I paid $12 to park. It was around this time that I decided an excellent investment for my retirement would be to purchase a large parking lot. We walked to the stadium and purchased tickets. Our seats were down the left field line, fourteen rows up. Not bad. And we wound up sitting around a lot of Reds fans.

To me, Turner Field is rather boring. There's no view of the city skyline beyond the outfield wall. No view of anything really. It's fairly symmetric. Not a lot of history. Nothing distinguishing about it. It was part of the Olympic stadium built for the '96 Summer Games. The rest of the Olympic stadium was torn down and turned into parking.

Still, there's nothing like a day at the ballpark. College football is, and will probably always be, my favorite sport. But there's something about a summer day or night at the old ballgame. Eating a hot dog. Hoping to catch a homerun or foul ball. The seventh inning stretch. Seeing kids standing by the fence, hoping to get an autograph from some big league player. A game seemingly as old as time.

The Reds lost the game 8-3. Our best chance came when we put two runners on, down 6-3, bringing the tying run to the plate, and Griffey pinch hitting. But alas, there was no joy in Boneville, as mighty Griffey struck out. That's OK. Another great thing about baseball, there's almost always tomorrow. 162 games a year.

After the game, we headed downtown. We ate and watched the end of the World Cup at some Irish pub. A waitress with cute glasses and a tongue ring gave me excellent directions back to the interstate. She had a sort of a if-we-were-in-college-and-studying-late-at-night-we'd-probably-end-up-making-out vibe.

We got home a little after 8:00. The drive home was nice. I didn't even mind the ten miles of bumpiness on the way back. As we were about four songs into Axl's Steve Winwood greatest hits CD, and I was well past my Winwood limit, when the player started skipping.

As Axl took out the CD, I was certain there must indeed be higher love.

"Some people call me Maurice, cos I speak the pompatus of love..."