Crack without the jail time.

That’s my definition of Facebook.

The official description of Facebook is a “social networking”
place. Apparently my friends and I are social animals, because we can’t stay
away from it for longer than an hour. Thank God for iPhones….

I had been a resident of MySpace for awhile, especially when
I was trying to get a younger perspective on a story or staying in touch with
my kids. My first exposure to FB was from a friend who has way too much time on
her hands at work and would post, comment, suggest and tag me incessantly until
I finally looked into it a little closer and found it was much more suited to
people, ahem “my age.”

OK, mature. FB is not the place for obscene rants about life
or jobs or how much you hate your parents. Feel free to rant on MySpace, I have
left the building for a better place.

For the uninitiated, Facebook is a free website where you
can ask others to be your friend and you will find yourself being extended the
same courtesy.

Once you get over the junior high idiocy of that move, it
all gets easy.

The variety of potential friends, however, range from the
ridiculous to the mundane.

For example, today, I learned that Valencia Hyatt named me
as a friend.

Last time I checked, that was a building, not a person.

“You’d have to be a big nerd to do that,” said my co-worker,
as I pondered whether to click the “accept” or “ignore” button.

I clicked “ignore” and went about my business.

For connection with real people, though, I LOVE Facebook.

Facebook has helped me re-connect with family I hadn’t seen
in 14 years and re-kindled communication with former Signalites from the days
when newspapers were Mighty. They live all over the country, but we talk almost
every day. We’ve shared pictures of kids and significant others, discussed careers
and shared lots of memories from way back when.

We get along better now than when we all lived in the same
room. Funny how that happens.

What I don’t like are people who I thought were my friends
in real life, and then they join Facebook to sell me something.

(Annoying buzzer sound) Thank you for playing. I know how to
hit the “block” button just as quickly as I can update my status.

(Which right now is “theater geeks, read my note”)

Let’s continue that thought and return to the original
premise of Facebook.

Social networking.

Not carrying-business-cards-in-a-coat-pocket-and-holding-your-drink-and-noshes-in-your-left-hand-so-you-can-shake-with-your-right
kind of networking.

Don’t tell me to act now so I don’t miss your jewelry sale.

Or tell me about a seminar you’re getting paid to put on.

Or cajole me to join a political group. OK, I did join all
the Pro-Obama, Anti-Palin groups I could find before November, but those don’t
count. I’ll do my own research before I vote without your annoying videos,
thanks.

I have several friends who do business that “get it.” My
favorite is the one who tells me what kind of wine he’s drinking so I can check
my cabinet and enjoy a glass of something similar.

So please, if you want to be my friend, leave the office
behind.

And if you’re more bricks and mortar than flesh and blood,
save yourself the clicks.

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